Wasted

Part 1

"If you jump, I jump."

I raised an eyebrow at the city sprawled below my feet, but I didn't turn around. Steps crunched behind me.

"Really? I never took you for a Titanic fan."

"Oh, shit."

Ingrid swung her leg over the guardrail and sat down next to me. A knot caught in my throat. If anything happened to her now, it would automatically be my fault.

"You're right," she continued, "Leonardo DiCaprio said that, didn't he?" She laughed. "I seriously thought I came up with it myself. Guess not."

I reached for the bottle of Brennan whiskey I'd brought to the roof with me, but Ingrid snatched it from my hands.

"I think you've had enough," she justified herself and literally gulped down the liquor.

It made me stare at her wide-eyed. She grimaced as the whiskey burned its way down her throat and groaned, blinking tears from her eyes. Then she tossed the half-empty bottle over her shoulder. I sighed.

"So," she began, her palms propped on the edge of the building, her body angled forward. "I guess that makes you Kate Winslet."

She grinned at me and I couldn't help smiling back at her. Coloured light washed over us from the billboard atop the neighbouring building.

"Are you gonna jump?" she asked, peering into the abyss beyond her shoes.

"I don't know," I answered truthfully, "I was still debating whether I should when you showed up."

"It's a shit way to die," she said, matter-of-factly. "Personally, I'd opt for an overdose."

"Of what?"

"Heroin?"

I thought about it. "You think you could get me some?"

She leaned back against the rail. "I could, but knowing you'd use it to kill yourself, I wouldn't."

"So why shouldn't I jump, then? Why shouldn't I just die and get it over with?"

"It's too easy. The easy way out. Don't give the haters that satisfaction."

She had a point.

"And you haven't bored me yet. That's rare."

She stared up at the clouds drifting past. A storm was brewing, so we couldn't see any stars.

"Let's go back to mine," she suggested. "If you still want to kill yourself after I'm done with you, then I won't stop you."

It sounded tempting enough. More tempting, at any rate, than crash-landing into gory pieces on the pavement.

"Yeah...," I mumbled, "I'd like that."

~

My wife had just died and I was a mess when I met Ingrid in Berlin.

I had taken some time off from my job at K in England, to grieve and get my shit together. That I ended up doing the exact opposite is another story entirely. The one I’m telling you now began one weekend in London, where I was catching up with an old mate from the liquor company I used to work at. I'd called him up in hopes he could procure some free booze for me, except he had other plans.