Broken Song

By Erik Schubach

Self publishing

P.O. Box 523

Nine Mile Falls, WA 99026

Cover Photo
© 2013
Art_girl / ShutterStock.com license

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.  This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties.  Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited.  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher, except by a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages in connection with a review written for inclusion in a magazine, newspaper, blog, or broadcast.

This is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Manufactured in the United States of America

FIRST EDITION

ISBN 978-0-9911072-0-9

This is it.  I can finally find peace from this godforsaken, miserable excuse for a life of mine.  I don't know how things got so fucked up.  Pardon my french but that's just how it is.  Where had everything gone so wrong?  It would be impossible for my emotions to hurt me any worse.  So here I am on my fortieth birthday... fitting I will end it on the same day I began my life.

I kicked off my black leather boots and organized them neatly by the railing next to my purse.  How did things go so wrong?  I closed my eyes and let the evening breeze blow across my face as my long, jet black hair rustled on the back of my black leather jacket.  Hmm... I won't be needing that where I am going.  I took off the jacket and felt the crisp fall air nipping at my skin as I folded it and placed it neatly on top of the boots and unsnapped my studded leather bracelets and placed them on top of the stack.

Then I took a deep breath in resolve, this was best for everyone and it would make the pain in my soul go away.  I grabbed onto the pylon and pulled myself up to stand on the railing in the gap in the fence designed to stop exactly what I am about to do, damage and disrepair at this point of the fence caused this gap.  I looked down from my perch on the Aurora Bridge here in Seattle, my hometown, again thinking about how fitting it was that I would end where I started.

One hundred and sixty seven feet below me I saw the glittering of Lake Union.  It looked so peaceful. But that was just an illusion.  There is no peace in this world.  This world is cruel, turbulent, and unkind.  I took a deep breath and started to move my foot to take that step into the void so I could find peace when a sweet chirpy soprano voice just inches to my left said, “Whoa.  That's a long way down.”

The voice surprised me, and I almost fell, but I grabbed the fence to steady myself.  Two thoughts came immediately to mind; one, who the hell was this and two, why did I stop myself from falling just now?  It was what I wanted after all, wasn't it?  I can't live with the pain in my heart anymore.  I'm empty... hollow.

I glanced down to see a small platinum blonde woman in her early to mid thirties who appeared to be walking a gaggle of small dogs.  She was leaning her head against the fence at the railing beside me with wide eyes looking down.  Her face was... the only words I could come up with was, delicate and full of wonder.  She was well dressed in layers to combat the evening's chill.  If I were to guess, by her attire, she was upper middle class or lower upper class maybe.

I opened my mouth to speak, but I had no clue what I was going to say to this person.  All I could think of was, “Who the hell are you?”

She turned to look up at me, she had a silly smile on her face and raised the hand not holding the leashes up toward me.  “Hi I'm Sandra, Sandra Callahan.”

I looked down into her steel grey eyes, between them and her hair and her porcelain complexion, she almost resembled an albino to me.  From the way she held herself and was reacting to this situation, I would almost have said she was a vapid blonde if it wasn't for something burning down deep in her eyes that I couldn't explain.  They seemed to be taking everything in at once, and it felt like she was assessing the situation in some unconventional and unorthodox manner.  There was a fierce intelligence bubbling deep down in there.

I shook myself and looked around.  I ignored her offered hand then said, “I'm the flippin' queen of England.”

Her smiling eyes went wide. “Really?”

My God, she wasn't kidding.  I was wrong, she is a vapid blonde.  I shook my head at her gullibility and replied, hesitantly shaking her still offered hand, “No.  Not really.  Penny, Penny Franklin.”

Her eyes and her face went even brighter, crap, here we go.  I hate groupies sometimes.  No that's a lie.  I love them.  My music was for them, but at a time like this they are a distraction I don't need.  Besides, my music has been taken from me.

She tilted her head and squinted one eye and screwed her face up in thought, I hate myself for saying this but it was beyond cute.  She replied, “That's like the lead singer of Leather and Heels.  That's gotta be a pain havin' the same name as a famous person.”

I blinked my eyes at her cluelessness and responded in a haunted voice, “Umm... I was the lead singer of Leather and Heels until recently.”

I swear you could see the two plus two going through her head and she nodded with apparent pride with herself that she came up with four.  Just how dense is she?  She nodded.  “Ahhh... that explains it then.”

She didn't go all fan girl on me and instead just slid off on a tangent. “So why ya gettin' all selfish and killin' yourself tonight, Penny?  Usually I'd say something like penny for your thoughts, but that would be like all weird and junk in this instance.”  She snickered at her own joke.

I opened my mouth to speak and she was off on another tangent before I could say anything.  “So like, if you do the old jump and splash, can I have the boots and jacket?  I got some friends that can use them.” Then without even breathing she was tangenting again, is tangenting even a word?  She looked back down at the water below then whistled and continued speaking, “This would sure do the trick, unless you survived of course.  That happens here on this bridge from time to time; you'd be all messed up and it would be a long time before you'd be able to try again.  Now, tall buildings... that's the way if jumping is your thing.  The ol' squish splat on concrete does the job every time, though that is still just as selfish.”

Then she stopped and locked eyes with me.  Again, even after that scatterbrained dissertation I still saw a hard spark of intelligence gleaming in her eyes, and that spark was studying me carefully, almost calculating.  Who the hell does she think she is?

I snarled a response, “Get the fuck away from me.  Just walk on.  This is none of your business and... selfish? Where the hell do you get off judging me?  You don't know the first thing about me, the first thing about what I am going through.  What right do you have to judge me?”

She shrugged and her voice hardened almost imperceptibly. “You cuss a lot, Penny.  And I ain't judging nothing over here, just stating a fact.  It is always selfish for someone to end it when they have so much to give, so many people who's lives they can impact for the better.”

I raised my voice at this petulant woman, she was infuriating!  “You
ARE
judging me, and you have no right.  As I said you have no idea what I am going through.  I'm poison and don't have anything to offer anyone.  I destroy lives not help them.”

She shrugged and replied, “Fine, Penny.  Why don't you come to my place and enlighten me.  Tell me why you've made this decision.  Then give me forty eight hours to prove to you how good you have it and that you have so much to give and so many lives you can touch.  If after that, you insist on being selfish, then by all means jump.  Heck, I'll walk you here myself, my dogs need the exercise.  But I get your boots and coat... for my friends.”

She wouldn't break eye contact with me, I can usually break someone with my glare and my hybrid heavy rocker/punk rock looks, but this bizarre woman seemed to have no fear, or was she just too stupid to be afraid?  No, I had this odd feeling that she really didn't have any fear of me.  She raised a hand to me as she tilted her head toward it expectantly.

I looked down at her hand.  I couldn’t have explained my feelings at that moment.  Anger, sorrow, disdain, but above all... hope? 
But there is no hope in this world... is there?
I slowly reached out and took her hand then jumped down onto the sidewalk beside her and was instantly mauled by the excited tongues of five tiny puppies.  I looked back into her solid gaze and murmured, “Crazy bitch.  Fine, forty eight hours and I will prove to you that your world of rainbows and unicorns is just in your damn imagination.”

She held up a finger and corrected. “Forty eight hours
AFTER
you tell me your story.”  Then she frowned a little and whispered,  “I don't like it when you cuss.”

But then she grinned a grin that could only be one of triumph as she nudged my boots and jacket over to me with her foot.  I kept looking at her as I put them back on. 
Oh, I'll break little Miss Suzie Sunshine here.  I'll show her the real world.  It will be good for her to realize the true nature of life before she gets hurt and winds up like me.

She passed over two leashes to me.  “Here, take Monster and Fang.  They're trouble makers. Always tying up the girls here.”  She nodded down to the other dogs.  “They are King Charles Cavilers, they are good workers and super gentle and friendly.  I like them because they look like puppies their whole lives.  'Cept Daisy here, she's my little mutt.”  She smiled broadly at that then looked at me with that same smile.

I caught myself smiling back at her and her weird tangents, then forced a stern look back onto my face.  I started to talk, “So you want to hear why I was on the bridge huh?”

She shook her head and shrugged.  “Not till we get to my place.  Until then, let's just enjoy the stroll, there is some business I need to take care of nearby,” she said cryptically.

As we walked, Sandra looked to be in thought.  “I read somewhere that Seattle is your hometown and Crystal talks about you sometimes.  I moved here when Jane did but I fell in love with the Emerald City and can't even think of DC as home anymore.”

I wracked my brains as I looked at the woman, who the heck are these people she is talking about?  “Crystal?”

She nodded. “Yeah, Crystal McKay,  I guess she knew you when you first started in music.  Oh, she was Crystal James back then, before she married Jane.”

A sad look flashed across her face when she mentioned marriage and that Jane person.  But then the memory hit me.  Crystal James!  That cute little girl that had somehow scammed her Junior High principal and my record label into having Leather and Heels perform at her school dance all those years ago.  It was just after we got signed to the label.  Damn smart and tricky girl Crystal was.  My manager slash husband still sends her autographed albums when we release them.  Well my ex-manager and ex-husband now I guess.

In spite of myself I couldn't stop my grin.  I thought I caught a slight lesbian vibe off of Crystal back then, well I guess I had that vibe back then, too.  I smiled at the memory of my drummer, Amanda, before she quit the band... what an awesome kisser.  I wonder if this Jane person that Crystal married is that tall redhead girl she hung out with back then.  No... she was Barb or Bev or something like that.

I looked over to the blonde beside me as the dogs tried to drag us faster to no avail since they weighed next to nothing and had no pulling power.  I asked offhandedly, “Is she still into vinyl records?”

This got her giggling and between giggles she said, “You have no idea.”   Then she rolled her eyes playfully.

We started talking on about dozens of topics, but she skillfully steered clear of anything personal, including the reason I was on the bridge.  I lost track of how far we had walked until we turned onto a seedy looking street.  The lighting was bad as half the streetlamps were out.

I saw a homeless man sitting on a piece of cardboard on the ground, leaning against a boarded up brick building with a ratty blanket slung over him.  He looked like a late thirty something destitute boxer with a broken beak-like nose and leathery weathered skin with salt and pepper hair peeking out of the knitted brown cap he wore.  I was starting to get nervous.  What is a well coiffed woman doing walking in a neighborhood like this after dark.  I glanced at my cell phone screen, it was just past nine thirty.

I looked over at Sandra and she was smiling hugely then she looked at me.  “Here can you take the girls for a moment?  I gotta talk to my buddy.”

Before I could protest I was now shepherding five puppies who were excitedly and desperately trying to get to the homeless guy as the crazy little blonde made a quick beeline for the man. 
What is she doing?  Oh God, she's sitting next to him!
  I caught up as the two just looked across the street at nothing in particular.  Sandra murmured, “'Sup, Leo.”