Letters From The Ledge (12 page)

“Every man has his breaking point.”

-The Shawshank Redemption

Paige didn’t sleep that night, and Nate never did come back to the hotel room. All the next day she waited to see if he would contact her, but there was nothing. Images of Nate’s face kept looping in her mind as she went over and over the conversation from the night before. When she got back from work, his bag had disappeared.

As time went on the days got easier, but not much. The nights were miserable. By day three she was so exhausted she slept eleven hours straight. Not a text or an email had shown up since the night she ran off the bridge. It wasn’t like him to be incommunicado. After a while she just assumed he was gone. Her one shot and she’d blown it.

The grief came in waves, but her work turned out to be a nice tonic for combating loneliness. Grief spread to numbness and finally just shut off completely. Frank only asked once more about Nate, and she’d told him he’d only been able to stay a couple of days. He had to get back to take care of some business. It was probably true.

She never did see the bears by daylight.

Ten days later however, when they flew home and she walked in the door of the apartment, it all came flooding back. Pins and needles started to creep into her heart as numbness was replaced by sudden feeling. His clothes were still there. Maybe he hadn’t left after all? But if that was true, then his absolute silence became one big, deafening explosion in her head. She couldn’t even guess what he was thinking, and had worn herself out with regret for how she’d handled their interchange on the bridge. The idea of facing him again was overwhelming.

Her breath started coming in short, shallow bursts as the familiar panic began to constrict her throat and wreak havoc on her stomach. She used the bathroom several times while trying to get unpacked. Exhausted, she laid down fully clothed and buried her head in the pillows.

They smelled like him.

For what seemed like the hundredth time, she cried herself to sleep.

__________

When Nate got home and saw her, asleep in their bed, his heart broke all over again. He got undressed, turned out the lights, and crawled in behind her, drawing her into his chest. Half asleep, she adjusted her position so that as much of her was touching him as possible. A few minutes later she startled awake, looked at the clock, and realized where she was. She wiggled in his arms and turned toward him, holding his face in her hands. The light coming in through the windows was just enough to be able to see the look in his eyes. The hatred she remembered so vividly was gone.

"I’m so sorry" he choked out.

"Don’t. You have nothing to be sorry about. I’m the one that–"

"Shh!" He put his finger over her lips. "We’ve got all day tomorrow to talk. Just kiss me. I’ve missed you so much."

The next morning Paige bolted upright in a panic. "What time is it?"

He pulled her gently back down on the bed. "Relax. It’s Saturday. You have the whole weekend to recover from your jet lag."

She sagged back onto the pillows. The sudden inevitability of a conversation long overdue hung over their heads like a cartoon bubble.

He pushed up on one elbow, slowly tracing lines across her cheeks and jaw with one finger. "I thought I’d lost you. I know now that I pushed too hard and too fast, and I’m sorry. Somewhere in the back of my brain I knew it was too soon. It just seemed so perfect to propose in Switzerland like that. I guess I just wanted it to be special."

She tilted her head to the side and looked at him. "Is that why you came? To propose?"

One side of his mouth curved up. "I wish I could be noble and say yes. That
was
part of it, but not all."

"What was the other part?"

"Well, I missed you of course. That first night when we talked on the phone until you fell asleep I realized I wasn’t going to get much sleep myself without you here."

She smiled sympathetically.

"I hadn’t been to Switzerland in years and when I started thinking about it, I remembered my dad telling me the story of how he proposed to my mother there–on that very bridge. I thought "how cool would it be to repeat family history?" so I went and picked up the ring I’ve had my eye on ever since I met you, and got on the first plane out of JFK."

"So
that
was it?"

Nate sighed heavily. "I’ve had a lot of time to think over the last week, and if I’m really honest with myself, I’d have to say that what really drove me there was jealousy."

"Jealousy?"

He sat up. "Maybe jealousy isn’t exactly the right word. Maybe fear. All I know is, I don’t trust Frank Evans, not even for a second. I don’t like the way he looks at you and I don’t like the way he manipulates and controls every situation he’s in."

"But-"

"Just let me finish, please. I didn’t like the fact that he arranged this trip so fast for the two of you, and I got scared. Scared for you and scared for me too. All I could think about was that I needed to protect you."

"Just like you would have wanted to two years ago?"

"Yes, damn it!" He swung his legs around to the side of the bed and sat with his bare back facing her. "Is there anything wrong with that? I live with the torture of that night every day of my life. I should have been there!” He stopped suddenly, his arms resting on his knees. His voice dropped to a whisper. "I should have protected you."

She laid her hand gently on his bare shoulder. "That wasn’t your job, Nate. Neither one of us can change what happened that night. I was attacked–viciously and brutally.” Her voice broke. The words were still so hard to hear. "But it wasn’t your fault. And nothing you can do or say now can take it back."

He shook his head, defeated. "You think I don't know that?"

"I was the stupid one, ok? I made a stupid mistake, and I should have known better. I don’t know what I was thinking, waiting in the dark so close to the alley in that neighborhood. I know better than that." Paige kept her voice low, trying to calm him, but his anger flared up out of nowhere.

"Oh, so it's your fault then? Don't be ridiculous!"

She matched his intensity. "Ok, so what's more ridiculous, me saying it's my fault or you saying it's your fault? How about we put the blame where it belongs, huh? How about the slimy bastards that got away with–" Her voice broke again and he reached out for her but she waved him away.

"When they dragged me back there and gagged me and held me at knifepoint I thought they would just kill me, and to be honest with you, sometimes I wish they had. But they didn’t, and I have to live with that. So do you."

Just the re-telling of the story gave him the shivers. "Stop it Paige. We don’t have to talk about it now."

"Yes! We do! It’s all wrapped up in this and we need to get it out in the open. Listen, you were late that night, but that was unavoidable. You couldn’t make that taxi go any faster through traffic unless you were
God
." She sat up and slid back against the wall. "You can’t be with me every minute of every day, and you can’t keep evil people from being evil. The job of Savior is already taken, and from what I hear, he’s pretty popular."

Nate sat shaking his head. "I don’t believe this."

"I’m not a little girl anymore, Nate. I grew up in this city and I know the risks. I made a bad choice and I lost big, but I’m still here, and whether you agree with this or not, I’d still rather live here than anywhere else in the free world!"

He got up, went into the bathroom and closed the door. Ten minutes later he reappeared. He’d showered and shaved and was started toward the kitchen. "Do you want some coffee?"

"We're not done, Nate! We're far from done!"

He took a deep breath and tried to force himself to stay in the moment. "Well if this conversation is going to continue, I’m going to need some coffee, how about you?"

"Fine."

"Good." He pulled the glass pot out of the maker much too hard and it banged into the strainer. Her startled expression jerked him back to reality. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have walked away when you were in the middle of a thought."

She waited for him to scoop the grounds and flip the switch. When he was finished he sat back on the edge of the bed.

Paige made her voice low again, trying to keep him calm. "I have Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome. I shiver when I pass by dark alleys. Sometimes I have panic attacks. Sometimes I get really overwhelmed with a bunch of emotions I have no idea how to deal with, and according to my therapist, this might never go away. This rape is a part of my life now, and if you want to be with me, it’s going to be a part of yours too. But I have to be honest with you–"

She stopped suddenly and bit on her upper lip. "Sometimes I feel like the only reason you’re still with me is because you feel so guilty–like you need to somehow pay a lifetime of penance for being late one time. It wasn’t your fault Nate." She started crying again. "And I need to know that you love me
for me
–just because."

He sat there stunned. For a long time he just blinked his eyes. There was some truth in what she’d said and the realization stung, but– "Is that what you think? That I’m with you because of some twisted sense of pity or guilt?"

"Sometimes, yes."

When he looked into her eyes, the truth of it was unmistakable. He couldn’t understand how she could possibly believe that–not after all he’d done to make sure she knew otherwise.

"Can’t you see? I loved you before that ever happened. It’s
because
I already loved you that it tortures me. Don’t you understand?" He stared out the window, trying to formulate the words. "I wanted to propose to you that night–the very same night of your attack. I knew you’d think I was crazy–we’d only been together for a couple of months. But I knew you were the one, even then, and I was going to do it anyway."

He swallowed hard. Her eyes were unchanged. Something wouldn't let her believe him, but he had to explain the truth.

"I wasn’t–late that night because of a cab or traffic. I stopped by my father’s store to pick up a ring–the very same ring I presented to you in Switzerland. Traffic was bad, yes. But I was late because of the ring, Paige. The ring!"

She closed her eyes, shaking her head.

"When I finally got to you the unthinkable had happened. Afterwards I had my father put the ring back in his safe and I’ve been waiting all this time, trying to give you space–trying to give the two of us time…to heal and to… I don’t know, recover I guess."

"You can't be serious about this."

"How could I possibly make this up? It's not penance, Paige. It’s what I’ve always wanted–and what I’ll continue to wait for until the day you’re ready." She just kept shaking her head, as if she could free her mind of the thoughts and feelings trying to work their way in. Words would never do it justice. More time. More waiting. There was nothing else he could do.

The next night when he got home from work, Nate found Paige out on the fire escape. He went to the window and rapped lightly on the glass to get her attention.

She smiled, scooting out of the way so he could open the window more fully and join her. "You don’t have to treat me as if I have the plague, you know."

"I’m not." He knew he didn’t sound very convincing, but he couldn’t help it.

"Oh, really.” She eyed the distance between them to make her point. “I get closer to people on the subway than this."

He smiled briefly and they sat in silence, watching the sky get progressively darker.

"Look, Nate–I didn’t mean to hurt you. I know the things I said last night threw you a little."

"Hmm. Hold the little."

She took a deep breath in and let it out all at once. "I don’t think I’m ready for marriage, Nate. Call it the healing process; call it whatever you want.”

“I know that.”

“Do you?”

Again he didn’t respond. Her lack of confidence in the depth of his feelings for her stunned and offended him.

“I need you to stop treating me like a china doll."

Nate shook his head. He’d tried so hard to balance protection and freedom. Why couldn’t she see that? "I didn’t think I was."

"I know you didn’t."

"So when you said that, it was like a sucker-punch. I’ve been so careful to weigh every word, every gesture–not wanting to push, not wanting to run ahead too far."

Paige pulled her shoulders up, trying to figure out how to explain. "Maybe that’s what I’m picking up on. You’re just too careful with everything. I know that sounds picky but sometimes if feels so stiff–like it’s been calculated and rehearsed.”

He shook his head sarcastically. "Wow. I am really feelin' the love here."

"Look, you're the one who started this honesty thing. I'm just trying to explain how I feel, even if that hurts."

"I'm sorry. You're right. Go ahead."

"I love spending time with you, but sometimes it feels like you’re either holding back how you really feel or trying to steer everything in a certain direction. One minute I feel so safe and secure in your arms and the next–I don’t know. I feel like I’m being scripted or like you’re walking on pins and needles, as if one wrong move would cause me to run. It makes me feel like I’m this emotional cripple who has to be tiptoed around. Like I’m not even capable of being strong.”

Her words stung, but he listened anyway. She was right. He’d been so consumed with trying to control everything out of his own fears that he hadn’t stopped to think about how it might make her feel.

“And I know that I’m
not
strong sometimes, but if I’m going to get better, I need to believe that I can be. I need to know that you believe I can do this. Does that make sense?”

He looked at his shoes for a long time. “Yeah. Actually it makes a lot of sense.”

“So much sense that you wish you’d thought of it?” She nudged him playfully with her elbow.

“Now that you mention it, yes. If I’d thought of it sooner, maybe we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“We’re not in a mess, Nate. We’re in a committed relationship, and this is just one of the normal bumps in the road.”