The Fall

We’re on the roof.
“Want to hear something?”
Instead of turning to see him, I continue watching the movie screen.
“When I was little, I wanted to be a police man.”
This is nothing new. Every conversation we have includes his past aspirations and the reminder that he never accomplished them.
“I would arrest my little brother every day, you know, fake and all. I’d throw him in the basement for jail. Every day he’d just cry and cry at the door, begging to be let out.”
He sneezes. I don’t bless him.
“I would scold him for breaking the law, tell him to keep quiet. After a few weeks he stopped crying and just sat there, waiting until I let him out. He was maybe five.”
His gray jacket catches my eye, and I see that the holes have gotten bigger. The stubble on his face is small, dark. I want to run my fingertips along his jaw, feel the little daggers tickle my skin.
“One day, when I thought he really did something bad - maybe he broke a vase or something - I threw him past the basement door really hard. I didn’t even notice him scream, or if I did, I didn’t care. I locked him in, and when I opened the door later…”
This is new.
The movie’s plot is progressing, it’s getting more complicated, rougher to understand. The main character, a beautiful, full busted brunette, threatens to tell the truth about some lover.
“Mom said it was no big deal, that it wasn’t my fault. But it was, you know?”
I nod, seeing the brunette’s angry boyfriend push her to the balcony. If she fell, would he catch her?
“If I jump, would you care?” He asks me, staring at the drive in before us. The cars are lined in perfect little rows. Only a few break the cycle.
The brunette falls off the balcony. She doesn’t scream or move the whole way down - just lets the air rush past her surgically sculpted body, until she lands on a car below, and her boyfriend is shrieking and shrieking.
His jeans are closer to me now, and his rough hand in mine, and he’s sobbing and asking me why and knowing I don’t the answer.
And the credits begin to roll.