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The Rooftop

Anne Turner Taub

    It was an old building in the heart of New York, and like many old buildings, had become more and more expensive as it became older and more dilapidated. Now that it was in the last stages of graceful urban decay, rents had become higher than the cost of a car. Rosamund Wills had decided to end it all and jump to the street from its ripped-up tarry roof. She was sick of New York, sick of the fast-forward motion of life and especially sick of her apartment which, despite being so expensive, was so small that every time she moved she hit a door knob. This was it. Today was the day. She went to the edge of the roof and looked down. Good, there were no awnings to make her think twice, and, besides, this was the only side of the building that had a direct fall to the ground. She put one foot on the red and orange ceramic tiles colorfully edging the roof.
    At that moment a voice said, “Pardon me, are you going to be here long?” Annoyed, she turned around. There are times in life when interruptions are not called for, and the act of being about to commit suicide is one of them. The voice belonged to a young man about her age whom she had never spoken to but whom she had seen going in and out of the building many times.
    “I don’t know,” she said coldly, “why do you ask?” After all, it was a large, though unsightly roof, and the view was just as unpleasant no matter where you stood. This was her spot and she intended to keep it.

    “May I introduce myself,” he said, “I am Edward Hale, 4B. And I’d rather not go into it, if you don’t mind—it’s personal... I just would like to stand here alone, if possible.”
    Rosamund became more annoyed. Who did he think he was? This roof belonged to everyone in the building, and she would stay here as long as she pleased. Besides, how can anyone jump off a roof with someone standing there watching to see if you do it right?
    “It’s not possible,” she said, “I have something I want to do here, and I want to do it alone. Come back in a half hour and you can stand here as long as you want.”
    “Look,” he said pleading, “I am very unhappy, just leave for a few minutes and you can have it all to yourself.” She looked at him, he looked at her, they both looked down at the street below, and at that moment, the same thought occurred to both of them.“
    “You, too,” he asked, “you are going too?”
    “Yes,” she said, “I can’t take this rat race anymore”
    “I understand,” he said, “I won’t try to stop you. You can go right after me.”
    “What? What did you say?”
    He said, “I said I understand. You can go right after me.”
    “I beg your pardon,” she said indignantly, “I was here first and I will go first. I am not going to follow you so that people will think—-who knows what people will think. They will think we are together. No, sorry, that just won’t do.”
    “Well, I am sorry but I feel the same way and I insist that I should go first.”
    An argument ensued in which neither side would give in. Rosamund was annoyed. No matter what you did in this city. You had to stand in line.
    Suddenly they were interrupted. The door to the roof was opening. A man about forty years of age was pulling a very recalcitrant dog that was long and thin with huge hanging jowls and a big feathery tail that lay limply on the ground.
    “Hi,” the man said, acknowledging their presence. “You two like it up here, too, eh?” Then he paused looking lovingly down at the dog. “Matilda does too, but she is being very naughty.”
    Rosamund and Edward stared down at the dog who was banging her head fiercely against the side of the building. “I’m sorry, the man said apologetically, “but Matilda gets very depressed, even suicidal, and she bangs her head when she gets that way.”
    The man looked up at them. “Say, would you guys please do me a favor. Once she gets her Tastee-Bone, she is okay. The trouble is we must have left it in the park this morning, and she won’t be herself till I get it back.”
    “What do you want?” asked Rosamund suspiciously.
    “Could you and your husband just watch her while I run across to the park and get it for her? It’s only a block away and I know just where I left it.” Husband! Rosamund started sputtering in disgust, when Edward smiled politely and said, “Certainly, we will. You go ahead and we will wait till you get back.”
    “Thank you so much,” said the man, “I am George Wimple, 3C. I’ll come back as soon as I can.”
    “Husband,” Rosamund expostulated in horror, “that’s such a weird idea when I am trying so hard to compose myself calmly for what I want to do.”
    “Well, I don’t know” said Edward, “It didn’t sound so strange to me. I guess we’ll just have to wait till he comes back, and...” he paused magnanimously, “I tell you what. You can go first.”
    “Oh no,” she said, “that is so kind of you, but really, I couldn’t.”
    An hour and a half passed by in which they sparred with each other about the order in which each was to perform, and, tiring of that topic, they began to discuss the impossibility of living a normal life in New York, “All you do in New York is wait for the end. You might just as well end it now. If you do it ten years later, life won’t be any different—or fifty or a hundred.” Both agreed on this gospel. It amazed them both at how much they had in common.
    Suddenly after two hours had passed, Edward looked around. “You know, it’s been a long time. Do you think maybe he is not coming back?”
    “That’s horrible. If he doesn’t come back, one of us will be stuck with Matilda...”
    They both turned and looked at Matilda who was continuing to bang her head on the wall. “Well, I can’t take her,” said Rosamund, “precisely because I will not be around. You’ll have to take her.”
    “No way,” said Edward, “I am no good with animals—even goldfish. They take one look at me and next thing you know they are belly-up on top of the water.” Suddenly all the good bonhomie they had recently established seemed to have disappeared.
    “Well, we will have to do something with her.” Rosamund stared pityingly at Matilda. “ How could that man just leave her like that? He seemed so fond of her.”
    Edward went over and picked up the dog, whose head was now showing signs of bleeding. “Poor thing,” he said, “she is so unhappy.”
    Rosamund was touched by his kindness to the animal. “I thought you said animals don’t like you. She certainly seems to have quieted down.” Edward smiled happily. “You know, you’re right. I have never had an animal snuggle so quietly in my arms. It feels good.”
    “I tell you what,” Rosamund said, “if you are willing, we can take turns keeping her. At home we always had a dog.”
    “All right, but just till we find out what happened to her owner.”
    At that moment the door opened, and George Wimple walked in, out of breath.
    “Gee, I’m sorry, folks. Did you have any trouble with her??”
    “She’s fine,” said Edward. “She has really calmed down.”
    George stared at Matilda nestled happily in Edward’s arms. “You must have a touch with her,” said George, “I’ve never seen her that peaceful without her Tastee-Bone. She won’t even go to sleep at night without it.” He looked at the two of them admiringly. “I am sorry I took so long. I had to go all the way downtown to get her a Tastee-Bone; the one in the park was nowhere in sight.”
    “Well, I guess you want her back now,” said Edward a little reluctantly.
    “Oh yes,” said George. He saw Edward’s hesitation as he took Matilda back.
    “I say,” he said, “you know, Matilda is having a birthday party Saturday. Why don’t you and your wife come? Apartment 3C, two o’clock. There’ll be a lot of dog lovers there and Edward can get a chance to cuddle Matilda again.”
    Rosamund did not remark on the “wife” reference, and Edward smiled, as he said, “Nothing will keep us away.” Us, thought Rosamund. Oh well, I have been called worse things, and the three of them, with Matilda, left the roof.

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