Once upon a time there was a thirty-year-old woman who was unsuccessful. She could not keep her clothes clean, organize her papers, earn money, or get along with anyone for more than a couple of weeks.
She lived in Baltimore, Maryland with her boyfriend and cat.
She was the type of person who was invisible to most people. This was occasionally beneficial, such as when the ticket collector on the train forgot to take her ticket, or the security guard in a building couldn’t see her as she walked by.
Her life was one of indecision and the sense of deep failure compared to those around her. Often, the sight of a well-put together person threw her into shivers of desire and frustration: why can’t that be me, she’d sigh, pulling despondently at her limp, celery-like hair.
One day, she had enough of her life. It began when her boyfriend refused to pick her up from the train station because of a baseball game he wanted to watch. “Todd, will you pick me up?” she’d asked by cell, as she sat slumped in her seat on the train back from Washington D.C. “No,” he responded. And that was that. She walked the ten blocks home, miserable and wondering if she was even worth a nickel.
When she arrived home, the apartment was empty, except for her cat, Chance. Chance ran up to her, sniffed briefly, then lost interest and fell asleep on the kitchen floor. Mary looked at him, and then walked outside to the back porch. Her feet were tired and her head hurt.
The back porch was 60 feet above the concrete parking lot and contained several sagging wicker chairs. Mary sprawled on one, and twirling a limp strand of dishwater brown hair around an index finger, she replayed the exchange with Todd through her mind. Tears came into her eyes. She sniffled.
Then Chance dashed through the open back door and leapt onto the ancient blue balcony railing near her. Mary said tiredly, “Chance, you come down from there. You are too clumsy.”
Instead the overweight black cat walked unsteadily across the narrow railing towards a tree branch which leaned a foot from the porch. Chance jumped onto the tree branch and began mewing plaintively.
Mary sighed. “You silly cat, now I’ve got to get you down.” She wiped away her tears and stood to lean out over the railing and rescue the cat. Chance hissed and backed away from her outstretched arms.
“Chance, you’re going to be the death of me,” she muttered, as she climbed on top of the precarious railing, gripping a support beam with one arm. Mary leaned over to grab the frightened cat, and her left foot slipped off the balcony. “Darn it,” she exclaimed, just barely keeping her balance. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead.
Chance jumped into the air, claws extended, and wrapped his large fuzzy body around Mary’s head. Mary yelped and the cat squawled. Temporarily blinded, she tried to pry the hissing cat off with both arms, but Chance dug his claws into her neck with renewed vigor.
All of a sudden, Mary realized that she had let go of the porch beam and was standing on only one foot. She reached for the beam, but missed. Mary wobbled for a few soundless moments, and her mouth opened wide into an ‘oh’ shape.
Chance leapt back onto the porch, and Mary plummeted headfirst off the balcony onto the concrete parking lot, sixty feet below.