Jake Undone(47)

My panic didn’t even have time to fully build because in what seemed like less than a minute, we had arrived on the 103rd floor in lightning speed.

I didn’t know if it was because I had just survived a flight thousands of feet into the sky, but being up there wasn’t as bad as I was expecting. I couldn’t wait to be done with it, but compared to flying, it produced so much less anxiety because there was a means to escape.

Jake made me feel like a kid when he stopped to tell the staff it was my first time, and someone actually gave me a sticker.

An unexpected calmness came over me as I looked out at the view.

There were details posted all around that explained what part of the city we were viewing on each side.

Jake led me over to this high-tech set of binoculars. “Look, that’s the south side of the city, where I grew up.” He pointed to his old stomping grounds. It made me both sad and happy for him because he hadn’t been back here in years. I wondered if he was thinking about his father or what he left behind when he moved to Boston.

After about ten minutes, I knew there was one last thing he was going to make me do.

“Come on, let’s go take a picture on the ledge,” he said.

Shit.

I knew I wasn’t getting out of this, so I hung onto him, gripping his jacket as he practically dragged me over to the terrifying glass platform.

I continued to nervously cling onto him, floating through the moment, developing vertigo as my legs shook. As the staff took a professional picture of us, I was careful not to look down.

Luckily, he didn’t force me to stay on it for very long. When we stepped off, it was an immense relief, but I was glad I had done it. I could have never dreamt of attempting that without him by my side. They gave us our picture, and it took my breath away. The two of us were basically on top of the world, and that was exactly how I felt.





***





The next leg of the adventure was a subway ride to Jake’s old neighborhood.

It was run down with dilapidated houses very close together. There was a bodega on the corner that he used to frequent as a kid. He told me he would buy penny candy there after scrounging up all of his change. He took me inside and bought me some Lemonheads and Laffy Taffy.

We dodged children playing on the narrow sidewalks as we approached a beige house with a rusty railing along a steep set of stairs.

“This is it. This was where we lived,” he said with a look of childlike awe, as I followed him up the front steps.

He knocked on the door, but there was no answer. “That sucks. I was hoping to see the inside.”

I felt bad that we had come all this way, and he wouldn’t be able to see his old house.

Jake put his hand on the small of my back as we walked back down, and it gave me goosebumps. “Come on, let’s go out back,” he said.

He didn’t seem to care that we were trespassing; it was clear he felt that the memories here gave him some ownership.

There was no fence preventing access to the backyard, which was a small rectangular area of grass with a concrete border surrounding it.

“Check this out,” he said, leading me over to a shady corner.

Carved into the concrete were the words, Jake Loves Buffy.

“Buffy, huh? Lucky girl,” I said as we both sat on the ground next to the carving.

“Buffy. I was nine. She was basically my first love.”





I did not just get a twinge of jealousy over a nine-year-old girl!


“What was she like?”

“She loved to nibble on things if you know what I mean.”

“Nibble?”

“She’d do anything for me. I had her eating out of the palm of my hand.”

“Seriously? I mean, I figured you had skills, but nine-years-old?”

“Buffy was portly. She loved to eat. So, as long as I fed her, she was happy.” He noticed my disturbed expression and chuckled. “A hamster, Nina! Buffy was my first pet.”

I looked up at the sky and shook my head. I felt so stupid. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. This grassy area right by the carving is where I had to bury her. That was a tough day.”

“I am sorry, Jake.” I hoped it wasn’t bad that I was laughing somewhat when I said that.

“It sounds so stupid, but for a kid, when a damn hamster is the only thing you came home to everyday and then it dies, well, that was a shitty day.”

“What do you mean the only thing you came home to?”

“I was a latch-key kid. My mother had to work two jobs after my father died, and she couldn’t afford a babysitter. So, when the bus dropped me off at the corner, I would walk home and come in to an empty house. I’d lock the door with like five different dead bolts, make a peanut butter and banana sandwich and hope for the best.”