The High-rise View

Calvin Burns sat at his cherry wood desk twirling his laser pointer through his fingers as he read the account report on his monitor. His phone rested on a holder as highlights from last night’s baseball game danced on the screen. A diet Pepsi bubbled in his ear, pricking up haunted memories of his kidney stones from the year before. The pain lingered like phantom pain, like his kidneys were traumatized by the experience although the hardened acidic stones were gone—which made it kin to the pain he felt from being a divorcee.

After twelve years of despondent marriage, April decided to call it quits. There’s nothing worse than being alone than feeling alone: a dagger of a statement she made as a closing remark during their court hearing; a statement that even then, he was unable to offer a candid rebuttal to. April stood there, hoping that Calvin would say that he loved her, that he wanted to work on their marriage, but she left the courtroom shaking her head. Calvin knew he was a lousy husband, any charm he had was lost in the gambit of receding hair that now formed two factions on both sides of his head, a protruding beer belly, and the dreaded problem of not being able to keep it up in bed.

A knock on his office door startled him, it was his boss. Calvin didn’t bother putting his phone up, he and his boss both knew he spent a portion of his day looking busy. It wasn’t like he could do anything about it, the moment he tried to reprimand him, Calvin would retire. Bouncing on his heels with a tempered smile, Frank donned a Miguel Cabrera jersey, dark jeans, and Chuck Taylors:

“Ninety wins and it’s not even September yet, can you remember another year the Tigers did that?” His boss gleamed.

Calvin responded, monotone and without energy:

“No, but the 84’ team finished off the season with a championship. They need to finish strong. I’m tired of seeing them get swept in the World Series.”

Clearing his throat, Frank lost his smile and quickly changed subjects.

“I take it you got my email about the new accounts; you don’t have any plans tonight, right?”

Calvin understood exactly what his boss was hinting at:

“No plans Frank.”

***

It was almost seven-thirty when Calvin felt the need to relieve himself. He dragged his feet across the grey carpet as he surveyed the empty cubicles along the sales floor. He noticed the janitor, a diminutive woman around his age, vacuuming and emptying trash bins. He returned to his office and approached his three large windows. The downtown cityscape was alive with lights and colors. The hue of deep purple glistened off the Detroit River. Calvin, along with everyone who knew anything about Detroit, knew that the river was an abyss of filth and trash, but from afar, it winked deceiving clearness and beauty.

The General Motors building, which is the staple of the landscape, stood tall, basking in the glow of the remnants of sunlight. Calvin surveyed the numerous buildings that overlaid the horizon; he admired how the new buildings, representing the future of the city, were meshed in with the old—gothic, Presbyterian churches from the 1800s with large bells and gargoyle statues peering down on the unsuspecting. Being able to soak in the cityscape from his Highrise office was the most enjoyable aspect of his time at work.

Another hour of calculating, and Calvin was ready to call it a night. Before heading toward the door, he looked out his window once more. There was a lucidness to the nighttime scene with its fluorescent pubs, bars, and hotels, that held him. A force latched itself upon him and demanded that he look out to what, he did not know. He looked down at the nine-to-fivers roaming the streets, small specs moving along the city pavement, ready to exchange their paychecks for poker chips, bloody Mary’s, drugs, or a combination thereof. Calvin avoided the night life. He had no friends, and often felt nervous in crowds. He once went to the casino but felt uneasy as if the cameras were tracking him.

From the corner of his eye, Calvin saw a peculiar sight. There was light emitting from the top floor of a tall, burgundy building, its top floor was level with his fifteenth-floor office, and about a mile out. He was baffled, having overlooked the city through this same office window thousands of times, and never noticing it. The bizarre thing was that only the top floor was lit; the rest of the building was visibly in ruins, with broken windows and stained bricks like it never recovered from the 68’ riots. And yet, the top floor was illuminated with dazingly light.

Calvin ran his fingers across his desk for his glasses and peered again.

The top floor was littered with the cool figures of people dancing—their fluid motions rhythmic, as they passed the multitude of large windows. A full-fledged party was ensuing. Calvin strained to see more of the scene as his heart began to thump. He’d stumbled upon a goldmine of treasure, a Bohemian Grove-esque discovery. An exclusive rendezvous was taking place and he was in on the secret—howbeit unbeknownst to the partygoers. His mind grew full of questions, and he sought answers to them all. What other realities was he ignorant to if such possibilities were taking place?

He couldn’t make out faces, only clothes, bright dresses that shimmered against the light—black, cream, and red tuxedoes. He stood breathless, unable to control his excitement. He imagined being there.

The rooms smelled of exotic perfume and cologne that mingled together to make one terrestrial aroma. The large conjunction of rooms glistened a sensual aesthetic of golden wallpaper laced with the print of a resting lioness. There was a huge chandelier which held a smaller, more detailed chandelier within. Ice was mashed with a pickax as a bartender served a daiquiri behind a black, granite, U-shaped bar. The crystalized floor was glossy enough to see the faint trace of one’s reflection. Forbidden conversations were being whispered in willing ears, while women danced the Flamingo to the seductive sounds of percussion. All this was maintained by two generators which softly cooed in a corner.

Calvin was dropped out of the fantasy by the very real woman who nestled herself against one of the building’s windows, so that she stood perpendicular with him.

She was gorgeous, even from afar. Her frame was a vintage coke bottle contrasting against the light—a curvy silhouette captured in stillness. She was the Sirius of the night sky, and Calvin sensed she had noticed him. He shrunk back from the window in fear of being exposed. His heart thudded to his feet. His cheeks were flush red, his hands—agents of sweat. He crept away from the windows, grabbed his suitcase, and rushed out his office.

***

Calvin laid awake in his bed reflecting on the top-floor party: he wondered what kind of people held parties in abandoned buildings. He knew of raves—when kids played heavy metal, drank tonic, and destroyed everything within their reach. But what he saw was classy, cool, mysterious… He searched for some type of meaning as he watched his ceiling fan swirl in the silence. He gently slid his hand over the vacant spot his ex-wife used to sleep; the smell of her was infused into the bed. April, he thought before quickly erasing her from his mind. It was that woman who he couldn’t stop thinking about. She was a tantalizing image wrapped in mystery. He fantasied about her as he struggled to sleep.

The following week came, and Calvin found himself spying out of his office window at the burgundy building. He became attached to it like a person does a stray kitten. He purchased a telescope so he could fully observe the next party. Friday came, and Calvin volunteered to work late. He spent several minutes setting up the telescope and positioning it. The hairs on the back of his neck stood as he made his final preparations. He took his antidepressant, drowning the pills in water, and gulping them down, turned off the lights, wheeled his chair directly in front of his windows, and flicked off his Kenneth Coles.

Calvin felt himself smile the moment the lights reached his eye. He chuckled as he watched the lights spread throughout the windows, one section at a time. “Showtime!”

He locked his fingers on the armrests. He could see people pass by the windows as they moved tables around and set up drink stands. A group of musicians huddled together tuning their instruments and laughing. Live music, he thought. Calvin swiveled the telescope as more people entered. There were women with exotic dresses accompanied by men in gentlemen’s garb: diamonds were the jewelry of choice, big, glistening diamonds. A short man with a jet blue tux coordinated everything. Calvin shook his right leg. Whoever those people were, whatever they did for a living, Calvin needed to know why they chose to have such elaborate parties there. Needed to know how they navigated through the pitch black of the lower floors. Needed to know what sane woman would allow a man to take her through the belly of a rat-infested building simply for the sake of a good time.

Calvin retreated from the window, a surge of emotions rising. The thoughts were collapsing onto each other. He wanted to be in the room, to be within earshot of the unknown conversations that filled its corners. The mind-numbing sensation of that woman’s softness, the intoxication of her fragrance. He imagined and contemplated a thousand different scenarios on what he should do, with each leading him to the same conclusion.

Calvin drove through the empty parking lot, stopping at the entrance. It was boarded up with signs that read Private Property, do not enter. He hesitated before exiting his car. He had no plan. He drove there on a whim, something he’d never consider before, but he was emboldened. He surveyed the large windows and could see some possible entry-points. Howbeit, he rejected the idea that the host of partygoers used the windows as a means of entry. For a moment, Calvin reconsidered the ordeal and questioned if he had merely been seeing things the whole time. Am I going crazy?

Filled with inner turmoil, he walked back to his car, turned on the ignition, and reversed out to the street—the foolishness of it all slapping him in the face. And then, bending his head to look up to the top floor, he saw, her. She was gazing out from the top floor window, the full moon cinematically hovering behind the building’s corner, casting a glow on her.

Her straight jet-black hair rested at her ears, as crystal earrings dangled down her lobes. Her full lips were the color of sapphire. She leaned against the glass and delicately placed her had on the side of her face—a pose so pronounced it was a photographer’s dream shot.

Why are you always by yourself? What are you looking for? Are you waiting for me? He felt an erection rise. With more candor than he’d shown at any other time in his life, Calvin drove back, walked over to the side of the building and investigated for another way in. To his surprise the side entrance was only blocked by three slabs of concrete. He bent down and began removing the heavy slabs when the flash of blue and red pierced behind him.

Back home, Calvin sat upright in his bed overwhelmed by his encounter with the police officer, and the woman. The officer let Calvin go with a warning for trespassing. Calvin made no mention of why he was trespassing, he had gotten lost. He closed his eyes and visualized her face; goosebumps raced along his skin as the fan’s soft breeze teased. He imagined her voice—rich with charm and seduction like Angelina Jolie’s. And her slim neck that perfectly flowed down to her clavicle, her clavicle to her firm breasts, which rested beneath her thin black dress—the slit stopping just above her navel. He fell back on his mattress with the ecstasy causing him to shake.

***

Calvin stood at the deep mahogany table as the tailor wrote down his measurements on a yellow notepad:

“I’ll have the alterations done within the next few days,” the man said with a slight smile.

Calvin picked some Italian cuff links, a black, velvet bowtie, and a pair of stylish dress shoes. He went to another department store and bought a gold watch and some high-end cologne, which messed with his allergies but smelled of luxury. He thrilled through the week, even some of his coworkers noticed his change in demeanor:

“Finally got off the rocker huh Calvin?” one coworker inquired.

Friday arrived. Calvin changed into his new outfit after work, dosed himself with the fragrance, and waited at his desk in the dark for several hours, until he saw the lights.

***

He gripped the steering wheel with his clammy hands. Someone played tug-a-war with his guts. He got out his car and made quick work of removing the concrete slabs from the doorway. He pulled back the metal door and was greeted by pure darkness.

Calvin turned on his phone’s flashlight and traced it along the interior, finding the building mostly empty, with a few desks strewn out with massive clusters of dust. It was an office building well past its glory. Under normal circumstances, fear would’ve crippled him and forced him to flee, but Calvin was emboldened.

The staircase was to the right of the main hallway and as he made his ascent up the stairs he noticed glow-in-the-dark arrow markings on the walls. The echoes of his own footsteps along with the darkness formed a haunting combination that sent chills down his spine.

Winded from his walk up the stairwell, Calvin stooped over to catch his breath. He reached under his armpit and felt the sweat drips ooze down his side.

“What the hell am I doing?”

Suddenly, April’s last words echoed in his mind:

‘Calvin, it’s impossible to be happy with you.’

Impossible, it’s impossible. Calvin. Being happy with you, impossible.

With a burst of energy, Calvin bolted up the stairs, gaining more motivation with every arrow marking he passed. Music and conversation grew louder with every flight he mounted. He was taking life by the horns for once. He conquered the final flight of stairs. He grabbed the railing with one hand and wiped his face using his handkerchief with the other. He allowed his breathing to calm and sprayed his cologne a few more times before entering the room.

He grabbed the handle to the door and pulled—revealing the crisp, golden lit room, the brilliance taking his eyes by surprise. Shaking, he stepped past the entranceway and embraced the bliss.

“I’m not crazy.”

The scene was enthralling; there was a live band in the furthest corner playing an up-tempo jazz piece to which many of the crowd danced. Everyone was handsome faced and wore dapper attire.

“Well don’t stand there, you know what happens to a Deer in the headlights,” a thin chinned woman said. She wore a huge diamond necklace that matched her hair tiara. Calvin was speechless.

“Who invited you friend?” She said placing her hand on his shoulder.

“How?” He responded suddenly.

She removed her hand: “How what?”

“How does this all work? Who sets these parties up?”

She gave a simple laugh.

“Who are you, the police?”

The mention of police caused Calvin to quickly move away.

His head was swirling. He found a seat and opened one of the water bottles on the table, nearly choking on the water when he saw, her. She was making her way through a crowd toward the window, the window where he first saw her. She wore a long silver dress that flowed along her enticing physique. Calvin was mesmerized. The water got lodged in his throat as he watched her sway her hips left to right, the sound of her heels clanking against the floor drowning out everything else. The multitude of eyes followed her. He captured a thousand panoramic photos of her as she moved across the room, before raising from the seat, and starting after her.

He cut through the crowd like a man possessed. A twitch pulsated in the left quad. She was facing the window. He stepped closer, took a deep breath, and with all the courage he could muster, said:

“Quite the view, isn’t it?”

She turned her face to him and smiled, revealing beautiful, milk-white teeth—piercing grey eyes—round checks kissed with Chiffon.

“Yes, it is. Certainly no New York or Paris, but beautiful in its own right,”

Her voice was as smooth as silk and as sweet as honey. Calvin felt that his voice could crack at any moment, could vanish before him like a small puff of cigarette smoke. He didn't want a repeat of his interaction with the woman in the black dress, so he avoided asking about the party.

“Umm a woman of your caliber must travel often, what’s your favorite place to visit?”

The question was jarring and pulled from thin air, but she answered.

“One would suspect that you knew me my whole life to know what caliber of woman I am.” Embarrassed, he fumbled for a reply.

“I-I mean it's fair of me to assume that you’re a woman of high class. I mean look at you.”

She chuckled and then looked at him intently.

“It is fair of you to assume that; however, you should never judge a book by its cover. I live by that mantra, and I think everyone should.”

Her eye contact alone nearly sent him through the floor, but in her few words she sent him spiraling; he fought to recover.

“True, I never recommended a book based off its cover,” he said.

I’m actually holding a conversation with her.

She turned her body to him now and spoke.

“And I have never fallen in love with a book based off its cover.”

He could feel his mouth swaying like a broken swing—he was under her spell.

“Will you do something for me?” She asked abruptly, catching him by surprise.

Calvin’s eyes grew as big as an owl’s as he responded.

“Yes, anything.”

“Jump off with me.”

He searched her serious face for any trace of humor.

“I don’t follow you.”

“I watched you gaze out of your office window,” she said pointing. “I know how much you’ve considered it.”

Her words were not connecting, Calvin was searching for any correlation.

“Why would you want… so you did see me?” he said backing away from her, but she grabbed his arm and pulled him close.

“It’s ok. I know we’re strangers, but the heart connects with those of familiar pains, you see.” Her touch sent shockwaves through him.

“Sharing the most intricate aspect of life—death, together, will bond us in ways this physical experience never could. We will have eternity to uncover each other’s pages without the constraints of appearances and innate deficiencies obstructing our viewpoints of one another.” Her words were fire to coals.

“I knew that you would come tonight, knew that we were going to meet. And that is how I know you have to do this with me.”

Calvin was silent, his eyes fixated on her resolute pupils. He could neither protest nor walk away, his chance encounter no longer felt like chance.

“Please,” she pleaded. “The life you desire is not on this side of eternity.”

She placed her hands on his face and softly kissed him. He melted away.

Yes, it was always going to come to this.

Calvin opened his eyes to see the woman was gone, and so was the partygoers and the luxurious amenities. All was left was decaying pillars, and floors covered in debris. The opalescent moonlight was piercing, a gust of wind blew through the broken window. He poked his head down to the hard concrete parking lot below with the thought now manifested. He turned back to the empty space, his elongated shadow his only company. The weight of his loneliness bared down on him, and he felt a single tear trail down his face.

Nothing is worse than being along than feeling alone, well, Calvin had known both. And as he stood there with the wind pulling at him to embrace the fall, he realized he was solely at fault for his loneliness

I haven’t been living, I’ve been idling. I’ve been sitting in the theatre as my own film pans out, when I should be starring in it… Damn, how have I gotten so lost? When have things gotten so bleak for me? Do I have nothing to live for? Is this really how I end my life? Jumping out an office window? No. I can’t. But why shouldn’t I? It’s not like anyone will miss me… I can’t even connect with my fucking boss and we both love the same sport. But be honest, you never really tried to build a real friendship with him. But I don’t know how, I’m a dud to be around. But hell, who isn’t? What’s that one quote: ‘drink more beer, it makes people seem more interesting.’ I know one thing for certain, dud or not, I can’t keep on like this.

Calvin sat down on the dusty floor and stared out to the night sky, contemplating and not contemplating, weighing his prospects. He grabbed pieces of debris off the floor and flung them out the window as hard as he could and watched as the pieces of stone and concrete sailed in the air. He recognized that the hallucinations had caused him to step out of his comfort zone, to chase the unknown—the choice was his to take more steps, to pursue that coveted happiness. He stood up, his decision made, dusted himself off, and walked toward the door, determined to find a party to go to: a real one.