Confessions From A Rooftop - 1. Chapter 1

“Do not jump.” I heard a voice boomed from below me, using a megaphone.

I wasn’t really sure if I was supposed to respond, whether I was supposed to shout below to them or anything, so I kept quiet. I missed the lesson in school where they dealt with the proper etiquette in this kind of situation. Oh, I suppose it’s important to mention that this was about four in the morning on a Wednesday morning. I lived in New York City, the ‘city that never sleeps’, so there was still a sizable crowd gathered. A strange-looking truck arrived with a giant spotlight on the back. The light quickly switched on and started moving its way up the wall of my apartment building until it reached the top, where I was.

Even though I watched it creep up closer and closer, nothing could have prepared me for the blinding brightness of the white light. In shock, I jerked my arms up to cover my eyes. The quick reaction caused my weight to shift too rapidly and I lost my balance. I shuffled my feet back and forth to desperately catch my footing, but it was a futile effort. I felt myself begin to lean over, more and more as I desperately tried to stay standing. My efforts were in vain though, and I fell.

With a painful crunch, I fell back and landed on the gravel roof of the building. Groaning and in pain, I slowly picked myself back up. With the light still focused on where I was just a second ago, I stepped back onto the raised ledge.

“Are you okay?” The voice from below boomed.

What the hell was I supposed to do? Yell back? Well..it didn’t hurt, I suppose.

“No!” I yelled down, trying to be as loud as I could.

“Someone is on their way.” The voice informed me flatly. I wasn’t really sure if they were asking me or telling me.

I had my answer soon enough when I heard the rooftop access door creak open. I turned around so quickly to see where the noise came from that I nearly lost my footing. An older man and a younger woman moved cautiously onto the roof. They walked slowly towards me, with their arms in clear view, trying not to make any sudden moves.

“My name is Bob.” The old man said, “and this is my friend and partner, Vanessa. Do you know who we are?”

At that moment, I decided that I didn’t want to talk to them and wasn’t going to talk to them. He seemed condescending and I wasn’t interested. I was suicidal, not stupid. I stood there and stared at him, hoping to indicate that I wasn’t interested in talking.

“We’re social workers.” He explained in a tone normally reserved for children. “Is it okay if we talk to you for a bit? Maybe about why you’re here?” He asked me, hesitation thick in his voice.

I looked at him, then back to her. He was old, probably in his late fifties, but she was young, no older then 25 or 26. He was being condescending, talking to me like a child, so I didn’t like him. She seemed different, down to earth.

“I don’t want to talk to you.” I said, with venom in my voice. “You’re a week away from retirement and you don’t give a damn about me.” I was looking right into his eyes when I said that.

“I’ll talk to you, though.” I said, gesturing towards Vanessa’s.

I could see the hurt in his eyes as he stepped back, but I didn’t care. Normally, I’m a super nice, super kind kid who was conscious of everyone’s feelings, who just wanted everyone to be happy. Maybe it was the result of the last few years or the current situation, but I found myself not caring about the old man’s feelings. But even though I felt better about talking to Vanessa, I found myself unable to look her in the face.

I looked down at my feet as I slowly turned 180 degrees to face away from the ledge.

“Hi” I mumbled. I heard the door open and slam shut again, as the old man left.

“Hi.” She returned my greeting.

“Maybe it’d help if I told you a bit about myself first.” She had a British accent that I found interesting. She paused to wait for my response, then continued. “I’m sure you’ve already noticed my accent, most people ask about it.”

Even though she couldn’t see me, I couldn’t help but let out a little smile at that. I wouldn’t be able to tell you why, though.

“I’m a Londoner by birth but moved here when I was a little girl.” She continued. “I went to school for social work to help people just like you...” She trailed off, possibly hoping for me to say my name. No dice.

I stood there for a moment. Absorbing my surroundings and thinking about what she just said. She’s a social worker. I’m standing on the edge of a roof. The reality of the situation finally hit me, and a sob made it through my defenses.

She must have heard it, because she continued softly: “Oh sweetie. You’re so hurt, I can see it just by looking at you. Share your pain with me.”

I stifled another sob while still deciding what to do and what to say or not say. Before I could stop myself, I blurted out, “It’s my father!”

“What about your father? Does he hurt you?” Vanessa asked me, trying to be as calm as possible.

I only nodded in answer to her question. My throat was knotted up and if I tried to speak I would have lost control of myself. But, as I nodded, I answered the question, finally admitting the truth after all these years.

“Does...” Vanessa started asking me a question, but hesitated. I guess she was afraid to ask the question because she was afraid of the answer she’d get. “Does he touch you?”

I flinched when she asked that question and my whole body shook. I regained my balance and thought about what she just asked me. I really needed to think about how I was going to respond.

Several minutes went by as I pondered my response. Finally, I just gave her a shrug. Although he did, I decided that it wasn’t that bad or a big deal, so it didn’t really matter.

“Look, I know it’s really hard to talk about all this stuff, but it’s for your own good. Look at you, look at where you are. Something’s gone terribly wrong in your life to cause you to be here right now. Now, I don’t know what it is, because you won’t talk about it. But I promise that no matter what, I’ll help you figure it all out.”

Her words were touching and hit me hard. In an instant, like a flash of lightning, I knew what I had to do. I slowly turned to face Vanessa again. With a blank face I opened my mouth and began to speak to her for the first time.

“Hi. My name is Markus.” I told her in a flat voice. “I live in apartment #502 in this building. My high school is three blocks east of here. My mother died giving birth to me, so it’s only my father and me. I have a few friends at school, but I don’t see them outside of school because I make sure they never see our apartment.”

“We have a nice apartment with 2 bedrooms. I have a room to myself, but the door’s been removed and I have no furniture. All I have is a mattress on the floor and a ratty old blanket. I can’t eat without father’s approval because all the cabinets have locks on them, except what he leaves out for me to cook. He has a drinking problem and sometimes will hit me. His favorite is using his belt with the big buckle. When he hits me, he calls me a little faggot and a fairy.”

I paused for a moment. I breathed in deeply, taking stock of what I had just admitted for the first time. I looked up and admired the stars. They were so beautiful and their existence was so simple.

With a sigh, I continued, “What he doesn’t know is that he’s right. There’s a senior at my school that I have a crush on. He’s tall, well dressed and very nice. He seems like a great guy. I know he’s far too good for me, but I can’t stop myself from wanting him.”

“Tonight was the night I was going to talk to my father, to tell him the truth. He came home after 10 PM, which is usually a bad sign. He works in construction, so sometimes he stays late, but it’s really rare. Usually if he’s not home by six, he’s gone drinking. It must have been a harder day then usual because he came home more drunk than usual. As soon as he opened the door he reached for his belt because I didn’t have supper cooked and waiting for him, hot on the table.”

“I knew talking to him was a bad idea. So I waited until he passed out and came up here. I was here for over an hour before someone noticed and called the police. I’ve just been thinking that if I can’t talk to my own father, my own flesh and blood, about things that are so important to me, then it’s kind of pointless. I spent all this time up here thinking and trying to decide what to do, but you’ve helped me make up my mind. I know what I’m going to do now.”

I finished saying what I had to say and looked at her for the first time since pouring out my soul to her. My eyes were still wet, but there would be no more tears.

“Markus!” She said, as she rushed to me, “I’m so sorry those things happened to you.” She told me, but I wasn’t listening anymore. With a small smile, I closed my eyes and followed through with my decision.