Date: Tue, 22 Sep 1998 00:21:43 PDT
From: Guy Trache <pfantazm@hotmail.com>
Subject: Strings Attached

Strings Attached

By Pfantazm

~~~

Author's Note:  The following story contains depictions of-- oh, wait.  
No, it doesn't.  Oops.  Never mind.

Oh, wait, there was something I wanted to say.  You're going to read 
this story, then go back, see the title and go huh?  I don't know 
either.  It just seems to fit.

~~~

It's actually kinda nice out here.  I can see why no one would want to 
spend their lunch hour here, but it is a pleasant spot nonetheless.  
Just don't look down.

Of course, there's really no reason for me to heed my own advice.  What 
am I going to do, fall?

When you're looking *out* a window, it doesn't seem so high, because 
there's so much directly ahead of you in the skyline to distract you.  
But if you look down....

My mother hates high places.  She told me it's because when she looks 
down from them, she feels this urge to jump.  So maybe it's hardwired 
into us.  One day, one time, we all just want gravity to claim us.

So why not now?  Enought sightseeing and dawdling, it's time to end it.  
Gotta hurry before someone sees me.  Whoops.  Too late.

What are those three idiots doing down there?  One's running off (oh, 
great, the cops) and one's taking off his jacket.  Oh, for Christ's 
sake.  You jackass, you'll never catch me in that.  This guy must be an 
engineering major, I can tell.  I'm ten stories up.  How fast do you 
figure I'll be going when I get to street level?

Just my luck, I'll probably land on one of them, he'll break my fall, 
I'll break his neck, and I'll end up in jail for involuntary 
manslaughter.  I don't need this.

Huh.  I'll fix them.  It's a long ledge.  I'll just go around the 
corner.

They're following me.  I don't believe it, they're following me.  How 
does that poem go?  Razors pain you, rivers are damp, acids stain you, 
drugs cause cramp, guns aren't lawful, nooses give, gas smells awful... 
and if you jump two dickheads will try to catch you in a sportscoat.

Oh, to hell with this.  If I can find that open window, I can get back 
inside, find another building and try again.  No delays.

Oh, hello.

Fine.  Don't stay to talk.  People rarely do.  Well, if the cops aren't 
already coming, he'll call them.

He *locked* the *window*?!  You asshole!  Great, now I'm stuck out here 
whether I want to jump or not.

If I run along the ledge, I can take a flying leap and those two-- no, 
three, the other guy's come back.  And oh, look, they're donating 
another jacket to the cause.  Anyway.  If I take a run at it, the 
Flying Wallendas down there can't catch me.

But I'll land right in that playpark.  Little kids.  I can't do that.

What's the other way?  Parking lot.  What's that?  A news truck?!  The 
guy with the jacket had his friend call for a camera crew?  Maybe I 
should land on them.  No matter who dies I'd be doing the world a favor.

[Excuse me...]

"What do you want?"

[The lady on the phone wants to talk with you.]

"Go away!"  What an extremely brown person.  Brown eyes, brown hair 
(bald head), brown moustache, brown glasses, brown cardigan and beige 
dress shirt.  For variety, I guess.  This is probably the most exciting 
thing that's happened to him since he lost his virginity.  Assuming.

Gotta be 911 he's talking to.  Who else knows I'm here?  Oh.  Maybe 
everyone.  That cameraman looks ready.  Maybe if I go to the other side 
of the building, I can get this done in peace.  Shit.  Now the cops are 
here.  I pass either of those windows and they'll try to grab me.

I'm trapped.  I don't fucking *believe* this.  I can't even fall off a 
building right.

[Can I talk to you?]

Police negotiator.  I've been expecting you.  "No.  What makes you 
think I want to talk?"

[I'd just like to know why you're doing this.]

"I'd like to tell you, really, but I've got places to be..."  Damn.  
They've got a net.  You guys really know how to ruin someone's day.

[What's your name?]

"You can fish my ID out of my wallet when I'm finished."  If I tell you, 
you're going to call someone, and then I'll have to *explain*.  And 
where could I begin?

I'd have to explain that having the marks I have coming out of 
university make me useless for everything.  Any job for which I'd need 
the degree, they'd take one look at my transcript and turn me down 
flat.  Any job for which I wouldn't need the degree, as soon as they 
see I have one, they'll throw out my resume.  Everybody thinks I'm so 
smart because I was "gifted" in school.  All that means is that the 
other kids all hated me.  Some gift.

From an educational standpoint, I'm a fraud.  I have almost no friends, 
no job, no money, no prospects, no chance, no hope.  I'm having to rely 
on about my only friend I have to let me stay with him.  Now _he_'s 
having money problems, and I'm so deep into despair I'm pushing him 
away so he's not going to want to have anything to do with me.

And let's not even think about my love life.  It's amazing.  Being gay 
is about the only part of my life that doesn't depress me.  It's about 
the only thing in myself I can be sure of.  I still can't tell anyone.  
My parents would never accept it.  I don't dare tell my roommate 'cause 
I'm on shaky ground there as it is.  But I can still accept it within 
myself.

Since I've been on my own, socially, since I was about six, I never 
heard any of the crap the other kids must have said about being gay.  So 
I never saw what was wrong with it.  I was not only anti-social in the 
most literal meaning of the word, I was pretty much asexual too.  I 
didn't figure out about me until almost a year *after* university, 
when I was all edumacated and could think about it rationally.  Being 
gay itself didn't bother me.

[We want you to know we're here for you.  We are all worried about you.]

"Don;t make me laugh.  You and that guy with the phone and those three 
idiots down there with the jackets, you're all keeping me from what I 
need to do!  Youdon't care about me, you don't even know me.  The 
people down there are wondering if I'm going to cave in their car.  If 
you all give such a damn about me as a human being, then where the hell 
were you when I needed you?!

"Where was everyone who was supposed to help me?  What were my parents 
thinking of when I said I should go looking for a job and they forced 
me to work in the family business and live at home?  No paycheck, just 
room, board and a small allowance, like I'm a child and not a 
univeristy grad?

"Where's the government help when living with my family *and* working 
with them finally drives me up the wall so far that I *have* to move 
out and get a job, but because they paid no unemployment insurance all 
they can do for me is hand me a newspaper and say, [Start looking, 
kid.]  You see, because I can be enough of a shitheel to sponge off my 
parents and friends I'm not desperate enough to get their help.

"Do you care so much about me that you want me to continue living 
without *any* kind of hope for a future except living on the street and 
dying slowly from starvation instead of like this?

"And that's just the tip of the iceberg.  There are so many other 
things wrong with me, it's all too much!  Whenyou can find some way to 
solve those problems, I'll give you a few more.  *Then* we can talk 
about coming inside.

"But you can't.  No one can make it all better.  It's just not 
possible."

I lied to the nice policeman.  I don't have my ID.  I don't have 
anything with my name on it.  With luck, they'll never figure out who I 
am.  My parents, my roommate, or (exasperated sigh) him, no one who 
cares about me will ever connect this with me.  And there won't be 
enough left of my face for an identification.  So if I jump now when no 
one's expecting it, maybe--

`Matt?'

Oh, god no.  No...

"Andy?"  There he is leaning out the window.  Dark eyes, gorgeous face, 
wavy hair blowing in the breeze.  Squinting a little 'cause the sun's 
in his eyes.  He's looking like he didn't want to see me standing out 
here.  "Andy, what the hell are you doing here?  How...?"

`I saw you on the news.  I recognizes the patches on your coat.  Why 
are you doing this?'

"Andy, just go home.  Go back downstairs and forget about this."  Oh 
shit, I'm gonna cry.  "Please."

`I couldn't forget this.  I need to know why.  It's not what I said 
about...?'

"No, it's not.  It's too many other things."  But you're really high up 
on the list.  "Please, I don't want you here.  I don't want you to see 
this."

`You're not going to jump if I'm here, you mean.  And I'm not going 
anywhere until you tell me about it.'

Shit.  Shit, shit, shit.  "Alright, let's start with you.  We're great 
together, I thought.  We can talk.  You know how difficult that is for 
me.  I love to spend time with you.  I love holding you.  I love 
kissing you."  I love *you*, you jerk, that's the problem.  "I 
just...."  Dammit, I am crying now.

`So why are you always shying away from me?  I know we're good 
friends.  But when I start to talk about a future together, you change 
the subject.  I start taking your shirt off, you back off.  I'm 
getting mixed signals from you and I don't know what the problem is.'

"I just don't want to hurt you anymore"

`You think if you killed yourself, that wouldn't hurt me?'

"You weren't supposed to find out, damn you.  I'd just go quietly and 
no one would know."

`If you went missing one day, I would do everything I could to find 
you.  Trust me, I'd find out.  That still doesn't tell me why you keep 
your distance.'

"I'm too fucked up, Andy!"  God, I sound pathetic.  Snivelly and whiny.  
"I don't want to unload all my problems on you.  I don't want to talk 
about the future 'cause I don;t think I'm going to *have* any kind of a 
future.  I can't help with the rent if I moved in with you.  And I 
don't take my clothes off because-- here.  I'll show you.  Then you'll 
leave me alone and I can get on with it."  I've got no reason to be 
afraid here.  I just turn him completely off me and all my troubles will 
be over.  So I take my hacket off and throw it to him.  Pull my shirt 
over my head....

`You're going to do this in public?'

"It's only my shirt."  I'm thin, but not built, and that's not the 
problem.  Look at my back, Andy.  All those spots.  Used to be acne.  
Now they're just little tiny scars.  All over.  "I bleed on my 
pillowcases some nights.  They still open up.  I've had them for years.  
They're not going away.  No matter what else I do, I'll always have 
those, and I'll bleed all over the bed, and I'll bleed all over you and 
that's the least of my problems."  Look him right in the eye and scare 
him off for good.  "I'm not going to be able to get a job anytime soon.  
It's gotten to the point where I don't bother sending out resumes most 
days.

"And then you say that if I can't contribute more to this relationship, 
you don't see the point in going on?  I can't get more involved with 
you any more, Andy.  I'm an anchor.  I'll only drag you down.  I'm 
trying to protect you."  Have to wipe away the tears.  Damn, it's 
getting cold up here.  "So I gotta leave you alone.

"But do you remember how we met?"

`Playing a game online.  So?'

"Andy, you don't know this, but that was the only time I'd ever played 
under that name, and the only time I've ever been in the gay room.  One 
night, for about an hour and you were there and I asked for a location 
check and you and I were in the same city.  We lived near each other.  
We exchanged e-mail addresses.  We talked on the phone. We met.  I fell 
in love with you and you liked me.  In *one hour* online, the only time 
I've taken a chance and exposed myself as gay *anywhere* in my life I 
found *you*.  Think of the odds!  When will I ever see that kind of 
luck again if I drive you away?

"And since I can't bring myself to be with you, I have no choice.  I 
can't come out.  I'll be alone all my life.  One more disaster to live 
down.  It's not *worth* living!"

There.  He's ducking back inside.  He's gone.  He's back.  What is he 
doing?  He's climbing out!  "Andy, get back inside that goddamn 
building!  What the fuck are you doing?"

`I'm coming out to see you.'

And there he is.  Tall, handsome.  He's not shy about taking his shirt 
off, so I know his skin is clear.  I've never ever seen anyone as bad 
as me.

"Christ, be careful.  Go back!  I'm not worth this!"

He's standing up.  He's edging over.  "So help me if you fall, *no* one 
will be able to keep me from killing myself!"

He's inches away.  I can smell him even though he's upwind of me.  I'm 
a wreck, but he's still turning me on just by his presence.  I've seen 
this body.  I've held him close.  Yeah, just like this.  He's got his 
hands on my bare back and he's hugging me tight.  He really doesn't 
want to let me go.  Feels so good.  Don't move.  Stay like this forever.

`I've never seen you like this, Matt.  When we're together, you're 
funny and bright.  I love that person.  I want to spend the rest of my 
life with him.  Is he in here someplace?'

I don't know, is he?  Or is he just the person I hide behind to deal 
with the world?  Right now I don't want to think about it.  I just want 
to be here, safe and warm and loved.  I'm happy like this.  That other 
guy is me, happy.

"I think so.  But I don't know where he is.  Do you want to help me 
find him?"

`Yes, Matt.  But on the ground floor.'

Oh man, we're out here and he's cracking jokes.  Maybe there's hope for 
me yet.  "Let's go in.  But one at a time.  You first.  I promise I 
won't jump."

I feel a chill run down my back.  We're not safe yet.  What a dumb time 
to get scared of falling off.  Thank god he's made it to the window.  
He's gesturing for me to go in.  He doesn't trust me at all.  Can't say 
I blame him.

Cops and office workers.  I wish they'd stop staring.  Ah, Andy went 
to get a chair before.  Okay, I'm in, I'm safe, but I'm not going 
anywhere until you are too.  Take my hand.

Good.  Now I can relax.  I need to hold you again.  "You really want to 
help me?  You don't care how many problems I have?"

I love that laugh.  `I really want to help, and I really don't care how 
many problems we have.'  Huh?  `Hey, I'm not perfect either.  But we 
can survive them together.'

You better be for real, Andy, 'cause I'm going to hold onto you for 
dear life.

~~~

Another Author's Note:  There's a lot of me in there, guys, but don't 
worry.  I don't plan to off myself anytime soon.  No buildings have 
ledges anymore anyway.  I went through this whole story in my head in 
bed this morning.  I even made myself cry, and I didn't even cry at my 
grandfather's funeral.  I go scary places sometimes.

If you're thinking about ending it all yourself, I don't recommend it.  
It's amazing what being important to someone can do for you.  I'm not a 
counselor, and if I had all the answers, I'd never have been able to 
write this thing.  Let me be one voice.  Please don't.

~~~