The Jumper

Anderson Stevens stood upon the ledge atop a high building staring down at the cityscape below him. "The world looks so beautiful from up here," he thought to himself. "You can't hear people yelling or people crying or people doing all those horrible things they do. No wonder God loves us all. He gets a view like this all the time." A crowd was beginning to form on the sidewalk below. He glanced at his watch. "The police should be here any minute now."

It wasn't that Anderson Stevens was particularly suicidal. It wasn't that he was particularly depressed. It was that he really liked being told how important he was, and he could think of no better way than to have a total stranger tell him how wonderful a person he was for five minutes before he would agree to step away from the ledge. To be totally honest, Anderson had no intentions of jumping whatsoever. He was one of the happiest people he knew and certainly didn't want to end it all. He smiled to himself as two squad cars parked far below in front of the building. "Time to get into character."

Anderson carefully gripped the rail and began to look really nervous, an expression he'd been practicing for quite some time. On the streets, the police were climbing out of their cars. One pulled out a bullhorn as the other entered the building.

"SIR, PLEASE STEP AWAY FROM THE LEDGE! YOU HAVE EVERY REASON TO LIVE!"

"No! I can't," Anderson screamed. "I've got to do this!"

"WHAT?"

"I said I have to do this!" he yelled at the top of his lungs. He knew the officer wouldn't hear him. Between the sounds of traffic and whoever that jerk down there chanting jump was, he was sure the man with the bullhorn couldn't understand a word he was saying. Maybe next time he did this, he should bring a bullhorn of his own. That or try a smaller building.

Anderson leaned forward and then suddenly jerked himself back as though he'd lost his balance. The crowd gasped in fear. He smiled. They were eating out of his hands. This would be great. The more they fear for you, the more they tell you that you are an important person. They all feel sorry for you. Maybe he could get some kind of sympathy date out of some attractive woman in the mob of onlookers. What should he wear? The gray suit? No, that was at the cleaners. Besides, it may be too formal for someone one step away from the great beyond. He pondered this question as he paced ever so slightly from left to right, a nervous habit he'd seen another jumper do. He could wear his creme oxford, and maybe unbutton it a little, or roll the sleeves up. That would fit his no-longer-suicidal persona. Nice, but casual and somewhat untogether. His thoughts were interrupted by a tap on the shoulder. His first reaction was to jump, but given his present location, he decided that'd not be the best idea, but still being filled with sudden surprise, he clung tightly to the rail, and fought for air. This was probably the first real emotion he expressed since he'd come up to this roof. He turned to see who stood behind him, though he already knew. It was a police officer. He had a small, sickly stature and glasses. He kind of reminded Anderson of Rick Morranis, only more insecure.

"Oh geez...you scared the crap out of me!"

"How do you think I felt?" gasped the officer. "At least if you'd have fallen, you'd have your way. I thought you were a goner for sure."

"Me too."

"Oh, I'm Officer Smith, but...uh...you can call me Bud, if you want."

"Ok...Bud."

"Ummm...so..." Bud said awkwardly, "What's your name?"

Anderson considered giving a false name and do the entire bit from scratch. He decided against it. Last time he gave a false name, they took him to the station afterward to make sure he was alright and found out not a word he'd said was true. That was a mess he didn't want to repeat, so he decided to be truthful, at least about his name.

"It's Anderson, sir."

"So, Anderson...how are you doing today?"

"Not so good, Bud. Not so good."

"Oh...yeah....right...the, uh, the ledge thing."

"Bud...can I ask you a personal question?"

"Ummm...I suppose so."

"Is this your first time?"

"Wha-what?"

"Is this your first time talking someone like me away from a ledge?" Anderson asked again.

"Well...yes, it is..."

Officer Bud's inexperience was glaring Anderson in the face. He didn't know whether that would make things more or less interesting. Oh well. He'd make the best of it.

"Great!" Anderson said, milking the pathetic twinge in his voice for all it's worth. "That's just freakin' great! I'm not even important enough to get a real negotiator! I guess I really am expendable."

"No, that's not true. You have as much a right to live as anyone else."

"Oh sure, I have a right to live, but that doesn't mean I should. Besides, if I have a right to live, why don't I have a right to die?"

"Well...I don't know..." Bud was getting antsy. It was obvious he didn't think he would pull this one off. He began to sweat a little. "Surely, you have something to live for?"

"No..."

"What about your family?"

"Either dead or disowned. They don't return my phone calls ever since I married the Jewish girl and changed religions."

"Well, what about her?"

"Who?" said Anderson, trying to be as difficult as possible.

"Your wife. The Jewish girl."

"She divorced me. She caught me in bed with a plate of bacon."

Bud chuckled. Upon seeing the grave look on Anderson's face, he tried to stifle it, but to no avail.

"That's not funny," said Anderson coldly, though deep down inside, he got a kick out of being laughed at by the negotiator. This would be so easy, and seeing Bud wriggle uncomfortably was certainly amusing. "Well, if my negotiator is going to laugh at my problems, that's really a bad sign."

Anderson leaned forward, but Bud quickly grabbed him. He found it absurd that Bud thought he would be able to catch him if he fell. He must have weighed twice as much as the pencil-necked peace keeper in front of him.

"No! It just...I'm sorry," said Bud, finally stifling his laughter.

"Sure you are. You just wanted to come up here to laugh at me like everyone else."

"I did not come up here to laugh at you."

"Well, you did just the same," said Anderson. "Do you know what that does to a guy like me?"

"Look, I wasn't laughing at you. I was laughing with you."

"But I wasn't laughing!"

"Well, maybe if you would see what you said objectively you would have," said Bud, trying to pull himself out of the increasingly deep hole he was digging.

"Maybe, but I didn't, and quite frankly I don't think I want to listen to you anymore."

Again Anderson leaned out and readied to jump.

"Wait!" Bud screamed as the crowed below held its breath in anticipation. "Can I say something first?"

"What?" said Anderson, his voice dripping with impatience.

"I don't think you really want to do yourself in."

"What?" asked Anderson, trembling for fear he'd been discovered. "Why do you say that?"

"Because if you really wanted to kill yourself you would have jumped before the police even arrived. Something is making you hesitate. Something worth living for."

"Maybe," he replied as he let out a sigh of relief. He had to admit that Bud did a really good job with that one. It was a great point.

"So what is it that's keeping you from that?" Bud pointed down. Anderson looked, and trembled for a moment. It was a long way down.

"Fear, I guess. I've never really been a very brave person."

"Afraid you'll go to Hell?" asked Bud knowingly.

"No, actually. I'm afraid I won't die and I'll end up paralyzed. Then things will be worse and I won't even be able to make it up here to drive myself off. Do you think maybe I should have just used a gun?"

Bud frowned. This was not going the way he'd hoped. Still, he had to try.

"No, I think you shouldn't try to kill yourself at all. I mean, things can't be that bad, can they?"

"I don't know, Bud. you tell me. My family doesn't speak to me. My wife left me. I have no friends. I hate my job."

"I have no friend and I hate my job, but you don't see me jumping off some roof somewhere."

"Your problem, not mine," said Anderson, brushing off Officer Bud's words.

"I didn't want to have to do this, but you give me no choice." Bud pulled his handcuffs from his belt and slapped one end around Anderson's wrist, followed shortly by the opposite end closing around his own.

"What are you doing?"

"If you go, I go, and you don't want to kill an innocent man."

"Wow," thought Anderson. "That was a very brave move. He's really good at this."

"Now," said Bud interrupting Anderson's thoughts, "let's step away from this ledge and walk downstairs and everything will be alright again."

Anderson was getting ready to give in. He just wanted to give Bud a few more minutes, to really make him think he earned it. "Actually, Bud, I'm not worried about killing an innocent man. If you die because I jump, it's your fault for cuffing yourself to me. I have no reason to go on. Just...uncuff yourself and go. It's better if you don't look."

"I can't," said Bud. "I would never be able to live with myself. Look, at least you've had a wife. You've had a better life than I have. I may have nothing really to live for, but I keep going."

"Why?" Anderson stood there staring into the horizon and waited for the "You are a wonderful person" speech he'd heard on the tops of so many other buildings. He began to smile as Bud began to speak.

"Now that I think about it, I don't know."

The smile disappeared from Anderson's face. "What?"

"Maybe you're right," said Bud. "Maybe I should end my life. You're obviously a better looking guy than me, and your life is going better. I mean, if you have nothing to live for, what does that leave me with?"

"You're kidding, right?"

"No, you've really opened my eyes, Anderson. All my life, I've been hanging on in hopes that maybe tomorrow will be better, but you know what?"

Anderson was too dumbfounded to answer.

"I'll tell you what. It doesn't. It doesn't get better. It just gets worse and worse."

"You know, you're really not doing a good job here. You're supposed to be telling me how wonderful life is."

"I know that's what I'm supposed to do, but I'd be lying to you. I'm sick of it. I'm tired of being the butt of all the jokes. I'm tired of being picked on, and I'm tired of being a nobody. People will pay attention to me now."

"Maybe we should step away from this ledge now."

"Why? Come on. We're two guys tired of putting up with this miserable thing they call life. Why should we keep subjecting ourselves to this for some crap on some motivational poster from a junior high guidance counselor's office?"

"You're kidding, right?"

"No, Anderson, I've never been more serious in all my life. We can do it together. We're already cuffed. You've shown me the way. You taught me that I don't have to take it anymore. I mean, I know you wanted to jump anyway. At least this way I won't have to go through the humiliation of being fired. Everything is so clear now."

Anderson began to sweat. Bud was really going to do it. He tried to creep away, but the handcuffs prevented this. Instead he decided to climb over the rail to get on the safe side of the ledge, but Bud choose that same moment to cross over to the ledge. "Great," said Anderson. "Just freakin' great. I was right about to get down from here when I get stuck with the kamikaze cop."

"Having second thoughts?" asked Bud.

"Actually yes."

"Don't be so frightened. In a few seconds you won't feel a thing."

"Look. I know you hear this all the time, but you have every right to live."

"Yes, but I don't have a good reason."

"Sure you do...You're...really...smart?" Anderson was looking for anything to talk Bud away from the ground fifteen stories below, but it was like grabbing at flies.

"Well...yeah, I suppose so."

"And...you, uh, were...are! really good at your job."

"You think?"

"Yes, really I do. I mean, I don't want to die anymore, do I?"

"I suppose so."

"And...well...think about all the things you'd be missing out on if you jumped."

"Like?"

"I don't know. I'm not a mind reader. Stuff that you like."

"Eggrolls?"

"Sure, eggrolls. If you jump, you're throwing away a life time of eggrolls."

"True..."

"Besides, Bud," said Anderson, "I weigh more than you. If you jump, I'll just hang onto this rail and all you'll do is break your arm. Now climb on over, and we'll go downstairs and get some eggrolls, ok?"

"Ok..."

Carefully Anderson and Bud made their way across the rail onto the safety of the roof. The crowd below cheered, except for the man chanting "jump" who left in a very disappointed mood. Anderson breathed a sigh of relief as Bud removed the handcuffs. He wasn't sure he ever wanted to go near a rooftop again.

Down on the street, the two left the building that only moments before seemed to be the last place either of them would ever stand. They made their way through the mob of onlookers and press to a little Chinese restaurant across the street. The two took a table in the corner and ordered their food. The eggrolls were wonderful, though Anderson couldn't tell if it was because of the recipe or that he was suddenly acutely aware of his own mortality. Suddenly, Bud began to laugh.

"What's so funny? You almost killed us both and you're laughing?"

"You honestly thought I would jump? That was reverse psychology. Most jumpers don't really want to end their lives. All you have to do to get them to step away is take the option of ending things on their own terms away from them and they change their perspective on life completely. If there's one thing I learned in the academy, it's that a person may want to kill himself, but no one wants to be murdered."

Bud chuckled at his own little joke. Anderson smiled. It was a pretty good point. Still one thing bothered him.

"Yeah," said Anderson, "but what if I jumped?"

“I think that’s rather obvious, don’t you?” said Bud staring Anderson straight in the eyes. “I would have fallen and died.”

Anderson paused as he thought about this. He’d never had someone put their life on the line for him before, let alone a total stranger. He went to the roof because he felt special looking down and knowing those hundreds of people, people he didn’t even know, cared whether he lived or died. This, however, this was something totally new. Bud had placed his faith in him. Suddenly every other rooftop, every other encouraging speech given by every other officer was lost in the significance of Bud’s actions. Anderson stood up and walked to the cash register, where he paid the bill. Bud watched as Anderson slowly left the restaurant with a new air about him. “You’re welcome,” said Bud to Anderson’s shadow on the window.

The door opened, and Anderson leaned in. “You coming?”

“Where are we going?”

“Anywhere you want, my friend. I'm sure we can get a date for a hero like you. It’s a big world out there. Let’s see if we can’t go grab our fair share of it.”

“Why would we want to do that?”

“Because we’re alive,” said Anderson as he held the door open for Bud, as they stepped out into the world.