CALL LOGS

The wind robs the breath from my lungs as I steady myself on the rooftop ledge. This is something I never thought I would’ve wanted. Crowds of people below, those fortunate enough to feel their lives are worth living, look like tiny ants from up here.

I place my feet at ten and two while concentrating on steadying my breaths. After all, these are the last ones I’ll get to take; I may as well enjoy them. I’m recording these last thoughts to avoid humiliation and rumors of scandal for my family, who had no knowledge of these events until now. Also there have been a lot of confessions to come out about this place over the years, figured I may as well add mine to the pile. It’s reality windy up here, and I’m using voice to text so… forgive me if any of this comes out wrong. I’ll place my phone on the ground behind me when I’m done; I won’t be jumping with it.

My teenage life didn ‘t start out much different than any of yours did. I smoked grass after school, only studied enough to get by and chased girls. Then I turned sixteen, and experienced a trauma that would shape my life all the way to this very moment.

The death of my sister Janie was a shock to the whole community, but mostly to myself. She was my fraternal twin, arriving into the World a mere eight minutes after I did. I paved the way for her to have a safe journey during birth, and it carried over into life as well. I was able to beat most of the bullies and problems that came her way. I was too stupid to know how lost she felt. I’d have died for her if it prevented her from ending her own life. But in the end, depression was a battle only she could conquer. And not all battles can be won.

Healing from grief comes in a lot of stages. I burned through just about all of them before I decided to look for the silver lining in her death.

When the Brighter Futures Suicide Hotline released their help wanted ad after opening their new location, it seemed like God was handing me a lifeline. I couldn’t think of any other way to heal and honor her memory than by helping others avoid Janie’s fate. If I could just save one person, it would warm chambers of my heart that have been long left cold. It would be healing for me, and them as well, the perfect job.

Of course, that’s not what happened though. I wouldn’t be narrating this from the top of an eight story building if it was all sunshine and rainbows now would I?

I got hired due to a massive wave of employee terminations. Now, when employers say that I normally assume they mean they were fired or at the very least transferred to another location. But no, I was wrong. There were too many whispers flying through the air, mating with each other to make all new messages, making it impossible for me to know one hundred percent of the details really happened. Whatever it was, my particular branch has had an upwards of nine or more die at once.

Yeah, that’s bad juju for a new workplace. Who knew what happened to the last person that occupied my seat. But money is money, and I figured, how much trouble could I get into sitting at a damn desk.

“Thank you for calling the Brighter Futures Suicide Hotline. My name is Adam; what can I do for you today?”

CALLER: Hey, listen. I don’t have much time. I know you’re not a church and shit but I need help.

“Of course. For better communication purposes, may I have your name?” My hand flies to my face as I hear my own voice in my head.

CALLER: Rylan alright? Fuck! I don’t have time for pleasantries but thank you. I need your help. Can you tell me anything about God?

Oh boy, my first religion nut. You’d have no idea how many stories I’ve heard though about suicidal Jesus freaks. This is the only one I’d experienced firsthand though you see. It seems like such a contradiction doesn’t it?

Me: Yes. I feel his grace and know that he loves you.

RYLAN: Okay, well… my family raised me Catholic and when I was younger, my uncle took two boxes of Unisom chased by a bottle of Jack Daniels. It doesn’t seem like much but to a man suffering from the early stages of liver failure, it was enough to do the trick. He was laid out stiff as a board by the time the hotel maid finally decided to defy the ‘do not disturb’ sign.

ME: I’m so sorry to he-

RYLAN: It aint about sympathies Adam… not anymore. The reason I’m calling you is that all them years ago, the local priest told my Grandmother that the Lord would forgive suicide if it was commited under the influnence of drugs or booze. Have you ever heard anything like that?

ME: I’m sorry sir, I haven’t. However, that doesn’t mean it isn’t true. Some people consider drugs and alcohol the devil’s instruments. So it would stand to reason that the Lord would fight for one of his soldiers, tainted by the devil’s touch in the afterlife.

RYLAN: I don’t know about any of that… I just need to know if it’s true.

ME: Well Rylan, if it was true, what would that mean to you? What bearing would that have on the decision you’re about to make? You shouldn’t end your life for the sole purpose of expediting the glories of Heaven. I’m not quite sure it works that way. Is it your Uncle? Do you crave the same path that he chose?

RYLAN: No. Not at all. You see, I’m trying to get away from him.

ME: (confused) You mean you don’t want to end up like him. Correct?

RYLAN: The fuck? No dude, like he’s been outside my house for two days now. I’m sure as anything that it’s him. I keep calling out to him, but it’s as if he can’t breach the barrier of my yard. I want to make sense of this, wrap my head around it. If he was punished by God for suicide, he’d be stuck in purgatory or worse. What the fuck is he doing here? He looks like he’s in pain.

ME: Uhh….well. I uhh-

RYLAN: Scoffs You think I’m nuts don’t you? I tried the police first, the lines were tied up. I reiterate, the fucking 911 line was tied up. Do you know how many innocent lives are lost during a mere ten minute phone malfunction? And I tried for well over an hour-

My phone buzzes, reducing the rest of his sentence to a dull drone as my attention switches over to the notification I received. Breaking News: The streets are chaotic as 911 centers are swarmed with calls. Dispatchers report overwhelming amounts of unintelligible voices that call from addresses that frankly… don’t exist. Investigators fear a breach in their telecommunications system. Those in need are advised to use the 911 texting system in the event of an emergency.

RYLAN: Hello?!?

ME: I’m so sorry sir. Your phone drifted in and out for a moment.

RYLAN: I’m on a landline… Shit, it doesn’t matter anyway; he just stepped one foot into the driveway.

Line Disconnects

A week passed; I’d just barely been able to become comfortable in my own mind again.It was just a weird call from the most sober sounding junkie I’ve ever heard in my life. I switched over to the early morning shift in the hopes of lowering my call count. I really needed the job and figured if I could think of a system that worked for me, it would be the best thing for my cause and my bank account. My thought process was this, the overnight shift was bound to bring the worst calls. The shift that I started on was the afternoon and early evening one. So, mornings seemed like the next best option.

I’d gotten to work earlier than usual one day. The second I walked into the call area, Mira from the night shift gestured to me frantically from our shared call desk.

“Hey Adam. I’m so freaking sorry; I know it’s not your time to clock in yet. Can you please cover me for five minutes? My stomach is a fucking mess. The phone’s rang like five times the entire night. Please?” Her blue doe eyes looked up at my pleadingly. I’m embarrassed to admit there was no way I could say no.

Sure enough, as my luck would have it, the bathroom door of the women’s room area barely clicked closed before the phone line lit up with a call. In this line of work, ignoring a call could be tantamount to death like the caller from the week before had remarked. Reluctantly, I swallowed my fear and picked up.

ME: Thank you for calling the Brighter Futures Suicide Hotline, where we’re here today to help you make it through tomorrow. My name is Adam. Who am I speaking to?

Caller: Hi. My name is Lynne? Um, I think I need your help.

It’s obvious to me that this caller was a young girl, fifteen or sixteen at most. The way she posed her name as if it were a question told me she was using an alias, which was totally common in these cases.

ME: That’s what we’re here for. What can I do to help you?

Caller: You know about what happens when people die, right? I mean, you have to know something about it.

ME: Miss Lynne, are you thinking of hurting yourself?

LYNNE: No! No, I just, my grandmother came by for a visit and I’m terrified. I thought you could help.

ME: Is your grandmother threatening you?

LYNNE: She isn’t so much threatening me, but she’s mad. She’s mad that I didn’t give her 2 pennies. But Mom told me not too. She said it was stupid and that Grandma had been getting senile.

ME: Can you give her the two pennies now? Would that help?

LYNNE: No, it’s too late now. She’s back and it’s all because I didn’t give her the two pennies when I was supposed to.

ME: I’m afraid I don’t quite understand. This seems to be a lot of fuss over two pennies. Can your mother help calm her down perhaps? Would you like me to send some officers over your way?

LYNNE: <sardonic chuckle> They can’t hurt, but I don’t know what they’re going to do with her. Mom has locked herself in her room, I’m in my bedroom in the basement. Grandma’s sitting up in the living room watching her shows like she always did, but I don’t think any of us are going to get to leave, Grandma’s awfully strong and she’s mad as hell at us for being here.

ME: Why does your grandmother blame you for her being there?

LYNNE: She said that because I didn’t give her the two pennies that she couldn’t get a ride from the ferryman. And now it’s too late.

ME: I’m not quite following. Two pennies could get her a boat ride, but not anymore and now she’s mad?

LYNNE: Yeah. If she could have gotten the ride, she never would have had to come back. At least she still likes her soap operas, but she missed out on a lot.

ME: Well, it’s good she has her soap operas, why did she miss out on so much?

LYNNE: Oh, right. She died 6 months ago. She said Heaven was closed and since she couldn’t get a ride soon enough, Purgatory is as well now. She said we’re all stuck here, forever.

ME: Your dead grandmother is upstairs watching soap operas because she was kicked out of purgatory since Heaven was closed and you didn’t give her money to ride the ferry?

LYNNE: Yeah, I know what it sounds like. But, I mean, isn’t this kind of like what you do? What do we do now? I’m scared of Grandma, but if everyone’s going to come back, and there’s nowhere to go… What are we going to do? I really don’t want Dad to come back. Grandma’s just mad for now, Dad was always mad. Can he still drink if he’s dead?

I didn’t answer, only handed the phone back to Mira when she came back from her bathroom break.

Needless to say I quit my job that morning. I just cleaned up my station, stood up and left the building. I knew I wasn’t the first and certainly wouldn’t be the last.

The drive home was liberating to say the least. I wanted to save lives and very much believed in God. However, paranormal investigation was never something I’ve been interested in. Truth be told, at the time I wasn’t sure if I believed in ghosts period.

I barely even had the chance to look for another job before another opportunity presented itself. The corner of a neon green flyer greeted me from the outer lip of my mailbox one day as I pulled back in my driveway from a cigarette run. HELP WANTED Are you ready for your new beginning? New Beginnings Crisis Center Call (###) ###-####

The manager gave me the job before I even got off the phone. For all intents and purposes it seemed like a perfect fit for both parties.

I won’t delve into the atmosphere of the place or how I was treated on my first day. Things tell me I won’t be the last one to report something off about this place.

Same story, same drill. I wasn’t nearly as nervous this time as I’d been told a lot of people just called to reach out for love or talk about their bad day.

The first few calls were okay, hopeful in fact. However, the last call before my lunch break got me. I can’t tell you who… or what called but their message was clear.

Dozens of voices, all from a single phone line.

“Our awakening is here Adam. The time...is now.”

Line Disconnects

The voices didn’t disappear after I hung up the phone. They resonate from every co-worker’s face that I looked into.

That brings us here, me emptying my pockets and watching my cash drift to the street below. These fuckers may as well have at it, I have no use for it in a world that makes less sense by the day. The only way to be sane in this society is to be insane, and I’ve certainly had my fill.

The big toe of my Cole Haan dress shoe crosses over the ledge, dangling over the realm between my living and dead bodies. A pert clear of the throat causes me to turn around, throwing me off balance. My arms fly wildly as I struggle to regain balance in spite of myself. It makes no sense why. The successful thing to do would be to let myself fall over the edge. But I want to die on my terms, my way, in my time. I refuse to spend the last seconds of my life in surprised fear.

A face greets me that I almost don’t recognize. It takes me a while to get past the gaping hole left where her eye once was. I remember being with my parents as we broke down the door to her room after hearing the shot. I remember retching as I realized the damage to her face was too great to survive from. And lastly, I remember screaming out for my sister until it felt like my lungs collapsed.

Now she’s here before me, looking the same exact way she had the moment she died those short decades ago.

“Adam, No.” She says solemnly. “You don’t want this brother.” She held out her teenage hand to me. I marveled at how much smaller it was than my own upon taking it.

“Your chance to join me hasn’t arrived yet. Don’t shatter what’s left of the remnants of our parents’ hearts. Now isn’t the time for the living to die.” Janie continues. “Now is the time for the dead to live.”