The Emergency Hotline

Brrring! Brrring!

"Emergency hotline, Calvin--"

"I'm going to jump, I'm twelve stories up and I'm going to jump." A girl's voice shrieked through the phone.

Silence.

"Well, aren't you going to say something? Aren't you supposed to talk me down?"

"Do you want to be talked down?"

"Did I call the wrong number? Have I accidentally called the Rumpelstiltskin fan club for old farts? Who the frig are you?"

"What's your name, darling?"

"My name's Janet and I'm not your bloody darling."

"Swearing isn’t the answer, Janet. If you swear at me again, I'm going to hang up."

"You don't get paid to hang up, asshole."

"Actually, I'm not getting paid at all. I'm doing this for free."

"Well, that's a good thing. I'd hate to think you were receiving any payment for the shit you're putting me through, so far."

"From which building are you preparing to launch yourself on your final journey?"

"Are you sure you're a trained professional?"

"If I'm not, and you jump, who's going to know?"

"The cops will find my phone."

"In this city? If the phone survives the drop, the odds are that it will be stolen within two minutes. You didn't say which building?"

"If I tell you, you'll alert the cops, and if that happens, and I don't jump, they may lock me up as a nutcase."

"I promise I won't tell."

"Cross your heart?"

"I'm an Atheist. We don't do that shit, Jane."

"My names Janet, not Jane. Is there anyone else I could talk to?"

"Sorry babe, you're stuck with me."

"I'm not your babe. I'm a woman on the edge--"

"Don't you mean ledge?"

"Edge, ledge, what the frig. Just my luck that the last person I'm going to talk to on this earth, is a prick like you."

"You still haven't told me which building, Jane."

"Stop calling me Jane. My name's Janet, J-A-N-E-T, JANET."

"Don't be so touchy Janet. You'll give yourself a heart attack."

"I'm standing on a wet ledge, twelve stories up on the Lysander building, and I'm being harassed by an asshole called... what's your name?"

"I told you when you called in."

"No, you didn't."

"Did too, but you interrupted me before I could give you all of my prepared speech."

"It's freezing up here, the rain is so hard, it’s stinging my arms and face, and all you care about is not getting a chance to finish your introduction. Useless bastard."

"Which side of the Lysander building are you on?"

"What?"

"East? West?"

"Why? Is the view better if I jump off the West side?"

Silence.

"I'm on the South side, okay?"

"Is Tazioli's right in front of you, as you look down?"

"Look down? You're not supposed to tell a jumper to look down."

"Well, is it?"

"No, it's not. It's to my right."

"Then you must be near the corner of the building that looks out onto Canal Street."

"So?"

"I want you to do something for me, Janet."

"What's that?"

"I want you to ease up to the corner and peek round onto Canal street for me."

"Why the hell would I do that?"

"There's a mom and pop store that should be visible from the corner. They sell awesome Mexican Tacos. Could you tell me if they're open yet? If not, it would save me a trip, and in the rain, too. I don't wish to get soaked unnecessarily."

"What did you say your name was?"

"Calvin."

"Where are you calling from, Calvin?"

Calvin took in his surroundings. "It's a rather tastefully decorated office in Hudson Square. Not necessarily my taste, but not too bad, all things considered."

"What's the number of the office?"

Calvin picked up his friend’s business card from a solid metal cardholder. "63A, The Oakfield building, Hudson Square."

"Don't move, Calvin. If by some miracle I manage to get my soaking wet ass off this ledge and back through the open window, I'm coming to see you."

"Janet," Calvin said, "if you should find yourself passing the shop that sells those incredible tacos... Janet? Janet? Hello?" Calvin studied the phone in his hand before putting it back to his ear. The line was dead.

All in all, thought Calvin, this job wasn't all that difficult. He wondered why Steve consistently emphasized how stressful it all was during times that he couldn't reach his contact. Calvin put his feet up on Steve's polished mahogany desk and leant back into the matching sophisticated swivel chair. Time slipped away as he waited for the next call. It wasn't the phone that disturbed his daydream, however, but the doorbell. It can't be Bob. Bob was babysitting a nervous Doberman by the name of Mable, and Alex was attending an AA meeting. Whoever was ringing the bell, was pressing their finger on the buzzer much longer than necessary. Most annoying. He opened the door and was confronted by a tall, bedraggled young lady with a manic stare.

"If you're looking to borrow an umbrella, young lady, I would suggest that you're a little late."

The drowned rat standing before Calvin launched herself at him, taking him completely by surprise. Down they both went, with her on top. Calvin was horrified. Did this creature not know what wet clothes would do to his favorite shirt? Thoughts of his shirt left his mind, as did the air from his lungs, as she drove her knee up into his family jewels.

"Still feel like eating tacos?" she screamed, grabbing his hair in both hands and banging his head repeatedly against Steve's $40 a square foot Turkish carpet. The two fought. She struggled to wrap her hands round his throat, and he squirmed to find a position that would give his balls some measure of relief. Finally, she rolled off him, a rasping sound erupting from the bedraggled apparition that could only be Janet. They lay side by side, each fighting to catch their breath.

"I think you might have bronchitis," Calvin managed to get out, as he massaged his aching balls. It would be a good sixty seconds after that comment before either of them felt like talking. Calvin got up first, and helped Janet, the would-be jumper, to her feet as well. She slumped down into the chair recently vacated by Calvin.

"Could you not sit in that chair, if you don't mind?"

"What? You attempt to kill me by asking me to ease my way along a soaking wet ledge for your own selfish reasons, and then castigate me for sitting in your seat?"

"It's just that... well, the chair and desk set, cost a small fortune. That's what Steve said, anyway."

"Really?" replied Janet, making herself as comfortable as her situation would allow.

The phone rang again. Calvin sidled up to the desk and punched the button for the speaker phone. He put his finger up to his lips, requesting silence from his first client of the night. Almost as soon as he had done so, a man's voice came over the phone.

"Is this the emergency hotline?"

"Yes, it is," said Calvin. "How may I be of assistance?" He was aware of Janet staring at him, but did not meet her gaze.

"Can you tape this, my last conversation... before I jump?"

"Is Friday night, jumpers’ night?"

"Excuse me?"

"What's your name, my friend?" Calvin asked.

"Mike."

"Do you have a last name Mike?"

"How about Mike who was considered as surplus to requirement by his firm, or Mike, whose wife left him for another man, or Mike whose brother blew his brains out last week. Let's just settle for Mike, who has nothing left to live for."

"Where are you right now, Mike?"

"I'm sitting on the window ledge about forty feet above Spanky's bar."

"I know the place. It serves a lot of Australian beer, right?"

"So what?"

"So there are a lot of people going in and out of that bar. If you jump, there's a good chance you will land on somebody. Probably kill them. You might even survive."

"So what do you suggest? Should I move to a different window?"

"Have you ever considered what happens when you actually make contact with concrete from forty feet up, Mike?"

"It's pretty quick, I should imagine."

"That's only if you get lucky. If you land on your feet, your legs will be driven up through your torso until you look like a circus freak. I suspect your legs, ripped off below your torso, will resemble stereo headphones after they tear their way up through your shoulders. Most people will try not to land on their face. It's a natural reaction, but from that height, your head will explode like an egg, spewing your brains all over the street."

Janet gawped at Calvin, horror written all over her face. Calvin gave her the thumbs up sign.

"I don't know about adults, Mike, but kids witnessing that are likely to throw up all over your brains. Do you think it’s right to make kids do that?"

Janet pretty much looked like she wanted to retch. Her hand was already positioned over her mouth. Calvin winked at her.

"Do you like Australian beer, Mike?"

"It's okay, I guess." His voice sounded less sure than before.

"Tell you what, I'm partial to the odd Foster's. Give me twenty minutes. I'll be sitting at a table in Spanky's with two cold ones. Why don't you join me, and we can talk about your problems. If you get there first, preferably by using the stairs, do me a favor and get the first round in, okay?”

"What if I don't want to talk about my problems?"

"Then jump, and stop wasting my time." Calvin gave Janet a wink and a grin.

Her mouth was open and her eyes looked ready to pop out.

"Don't make that face," Calvin whispered to her, "it's not very flattering."

"Are you talking to someone else?" Mike asked.

"Another jumper, don't worry about it."

A long pause ensued.

"Twenty minutes you say? How will I recognize you?"

"If you're still hanging out of that window, I will be the one easing in close to the wall, in case you try to land on someone."

"You're all heart."

Calvin ended the call.

"You're a disgrace to the profession," Janet said.

"And yet, here you are, wet but alive. Tell me where you live, and I'll drop you off."

"Two blocks South of Spanky's bar."

"Perfect, let's go."

Janet stood up, leaving a puddle on her vacated seat. Calvin opened a drawer and grabbed a handful of industrial towels. He cleaned up the chair as best he could, in a short a time as possible.

"The carpet got wet too," Janet said, her tone heavy with sarcasm.

"If you feel bad about it, you can offer to pay to have it cleaned."

"Kiss my--"

"Okay, let's go," he said, clutching her elbow and dragging her towards the door.