The Fall

Ronnie was in a good mood, a rarity in Rat’s experience. Ronnie had Rat checked out in under five minutes. Whatever the reason, Rat was grateful. Domino walked them out. He was a large quiet man with a stern face like a bulldog, but Domino was soft. He was capable of flattening an unruly customer, but early in the evenings when nothing was going on, he liked to read mystery novels. He kept one tucked in his back pocket most of the time. Like Vegas, he also had a record. When he was eighteen, still in his final year of high school, he’d gotten into an argument with one of his friends over a girl they both liked. His friend had called her a whore, and Domino lost it. He brought over his father’s gun and shot his friend in the foot. It was clearly a premeditated crime. His friend eventually had to have the foot amputated. Domino served five years and acquired his first felony. The second one was for possession of a controlled substance. Domino was able to vote for the first time in 2016, at the ripe age of thirty-seven. Rat had noted one election day that he’d come into work with an “I voted” sticker proudly adhered to his lapel, at which point he’d recounted the story, tearing up as he recalled the moment his life changed. The tears had bonded them from that point on. Domino was one of only a few bouncers they trusted enough to escort them to their car.

Outside, the wind was howling. The breeze from the bay seeped into Rat’s skin. They’d only worn a thin sweatsuit to work, expecting the walk from their car into the club to be brief enough the cold wouldn’t have time to hit bone. But Rat could feel their joints creaking as the frost stiffened their movements. Rat picked up their pace, fishing for their keys to assure a quick entry into the sanctuary of their car.

“You’re not built for this weather,” Domino remarked, good naturedly.

“I’m not.” Rat replied, shivering.

Domino placed Rat’s duffle in their trunk. He’d brought along a snow scraper, in case the winter storm that had been ravaging the area decided to dump one last load of powder on everyone’s cars. Domino swung the brush across Rat’s back windshield, then circled around dusting away the side mirrors and finally the front windshield. Rat appreciated the gesture and tipped accordingly.

“Thank you very much, Ms. Lilith. Will I see you tomorrow?”

“Probably not. If you’re working on the weekend, I’ll see you then.” Rat said as they slid into the car.

“Take it easy, then.” Domino said, as he shut their door.

Rat slowly pulled out of the parking lot, taking care to avoid the visible ice patches. Rat was not sober, but they felt confident enough in their ability to drive slowly through the empty streets to get home. The roads were mostly clear. Gray snow--a mix of salt, sand, and dirty slush formed narrow pathways guiding Rat up from the Inner Harbor through downtown. The streets were empty aside from a few lonely encampments insulated with blue tarp. There were no doubt designated freeze shelters around town and cops forcibly escorting wary unhoused people in part for their protection, in part to avoid the media backlash over the ongoing condition of inhumane squalor Baltimore had become known for. The drive home was second nature, even in the snow. How many nights had Rat suddenly arrived home, only to realize they’d mentally checked out for the entirety of their voyage? It was an unsettling thought. They knew they’d been lucky nothing bad had happened. They were alive and had managed to avoid hurting anybody, but how long could their luck last?

Rat found a spot a few houses down and parked, taking a moment to collect their valuables. They rarely brought the duffle in. It was full of stripper costumes, shoes, and hygiene products. If it was stolen, it would be inconvenient at worst, disappointing for any thief who made it far enough to swipe the bag. Rat checked their phone. The screen turned black and the familiar white apple appeared, signaling its final gasping breath. Rat sighed and stashed it in their pocket as they tucked their purse under their arm. They trudged through the snow up to the front door of the row house.

The building was over a hundred years old. A while before Rat moved in, one of the owners had installed an intercom only to allow it to fall into disrepair. The only button that worked was connected to their landlady’s apartment. Louise was a grumpy troll of a woman who constantly threatened to ban all visitors if Rat and Tiger didn’t keep it down! Rat had been on her bad side one too many times and avoided interacting with her at all costs. Rat riffled through their purse, searching for their keys. They must be somewhere, Rat thought, only to woefully remember that they had separated their car keys from their house keys earlier that day for the sake of pocket space. It was a mistake they would not be making again, that was for sure. Rat considered their options. They could bang on the front door, but there was a chance Louise might feel especially spiteful and choose to call the cops instead of letting Rat in, and that could get even messier, considering the mysterious bag full of cash they were carrying. In the summertime, Rat regularly climbed the fire escape to get into the building. It was risky, but Rat had a formula. The final option was somehow managing to rouse Tiger from her sleep. Tiger was a heavy sleeper, conditioned by the tumultuous soundscape of inner city life further cloaked in her lawnmower snores. Rat stood, pondering their next move, until they realized they were shivering. The alcohol had delayed the sensation, but it was still below zero outside. They didn’t have time for indecision. They needed to get inside ASAP.

Rat circled around to the alley behind the block of row homes. The fire escape ladder hung over a row of garbage bins. Rat walked over to the bins and dusted away the coating of snow that had collected on the lids, then looked up, eyeballing the distance between the tops of the bins and the fire escape ladder. Rat pulled their purse over their shoulder and clamped their arm over it for extra protection. There was a discarded milk crate tucked beside the bins. It wasn’t the most stable stepping stool, but it would have to do for now. Rat moved the crate over so that it was directly under the fire escape ladder, and stepped up, placing their hands on the lid of the nearest bin. They managed to wedge a knee onto the lid, providing a bit more leverage to shimmy their way on top. The snow Rat had cleared away had left a thin film of slick water on top. Rat held their breath, bracing themself before attempting to stand. It was dangerous, but not impossible. Dangerous, but possible.

Rat decided to push away any notions of falling. There was only one way to go, and that was up. Rat managed to kneel, wobbling a bit in the process, then they reached for the bottom of the ladder. Their fingertips grazed the first rung. They only needed to lift a bit more to get a solid grip. Rat paused, summoning the courage, then sprang up, catching the bottom rung as the bin shook dangerously. Rat used their thighs to steady the garbage bin, keeping it from tipping, then gingerly stood with the help of the ladder. The metal was painfully cold, covered in a frigid layer of ice. Rat pulled their sleeves over their palms to create an additional layer of friction to secure their climb. Rat grabbed a higher rung, and did a combination of a chin-up and a shimmy, wiggling until they had managed to lift their hips nearly up to the bottom rung. The brick wall of the building was only a few feet away. Rat kicked one foot over, hoping to use the wall for traction. As their foot touched the wall, Rat heard something clatter as it fell.

It was nearly impossible to see what exactly had dropped, and Rat wasn’t in a position to check their purse. There was only one way to go, and that was up. With the wall as their leverage, Rat managed to reach the next rung up, and as gracefully as possible, they lifted the rest of their body onto the ladder. Rat exhaled with relief. The difficult part was over. They brought their purse around, attempting to identify what had fallen. Keys were present, wallet was still in its zipper pocket, Rat paled. The fucking phone. Rat searched, feeling around in every crevice, hoping the phone had merely gotten lost at the bottom of the purse. It would be the first time. But after increasingly harried digging, Rat realized it was gone. Rat looked down, squinting, hoping to see the reflective black screen facing up somewhere on the pavement below. Rat had nearly given up when they spotted a black rectangle wedged between the garbage bin below them and the wall. It was so close, Rat estimated they could reach it if they just hung themself upside down, the way they once did as a child on the monkey bars. That was the only option, Rat decided. But what would they do with the purse? Rat attempted to wedge the bag on one of the bars, quickly realizing the precariousness of the concept. The best option seemed to be to gently lower it down as they lowered their body. It might even help, having some place to put the phone when they retrieved it.

Rat held onto the ladder as they leaned back, moving so that their knees caught the final rung of the ladder, then slowly released the ladder with the hand that clutched their purse. With as much control as they could manage, they lowered the bag, wrapped tightly in their grip. They felt their weight move more firmly into their knee hold. They released the other hand, and managed to somewhat gracefully dangle. They felt their vertebrae expanding, a relief after a long night walking around in heels. It wasn’t so bad, now that they were down. Rat returned their attention to the task at hand. The phone was close enough their nails could graze the edge. Rat dug the tips of their pointed acrylic nails into the lip of their phone case and latched on like an arcade claw game. Rat prayed this prize wouldn’t slip through their fingers the way so many stuffed animals had. Gradually, the phone emerged from the crack, clamped as it was between Rat’s determined fingers. It was a delicate operation. Rat felt their heart pounding as they finally lifted the phone high enough that they could fully hold it in their hand. Rat felt a wave of relief pour through their body as they slid the phone into their purse, making sure to button the top for extra security. Then they dangled for a moment, allowing their tense forearms to release briefly. As the blood rushed to their head, Rat pondered the next important question: how would they get back up? They tried curling up as high as they could, their abdominals screaming with the effort, but no luck, especially with the weight of their purse pulling them down. Rat tried again, but instead of relying on strength, decided to use their momentum, swinging backwards and forwards as they attempted to reach the bottom of the ladder. But again, they found themself no closer to reaching than before.

“Fuck fuck fuck!” Rat cursed in frustration.

They dangled again, attempting to fend off the increasingly likely prospect that they were stuck. Rat’s eyes burned as they felt tears welling before trickling up their forehead. It all felt hopeless. How had this seemed like a good idea? They looked around. They could try lowering themself hands first down onto the bins again, but that seemed impossibly dangerous. The only other option would be somehow using their hands to “climb” up the brick wall to move themself closer to the ladder. Neither seemed like a good option. Rat didn’t want to go down, after working so hard to make it up. They were at least on the fire escape ladder, and that was better than starting from square one. Their optimism was waning, and the combination of cold and the pressure of holding their body weight on their knee pits grew increasingly painful. Rat tearfully began reaching for the wall. They were going to fuck up their nails and it had been less than a week with this set. The process had taken three hours and cost three hundred dollars. All to be ruined because of some stupidity. Rat swiped at the wall in frustration.

“God fucking damn it!” Rat shouted.

Dogs nearby began barking. They swiped again, inching a little closer. Rat felt like the butt of a cruel joke. With one final swing, their fingers met brick, and suddenly they slipped.

Rat let go of their purse and instinctively covered their head with their arms as they fell, crashing down into the bins and onto the ground. The bins tumbled down with Rat, spilling their contents all around them. Rat somehow landed feet first, and immediately crumbled onto the ground, the impact reverberating up their body. They yelped and fell onto their hands. They felt the wind knocked out of them as they gasped, then blacked out.

They didn’t know how long they’d been knocked out, but they awoke with a panic. Did it really happen? Had they really fallen? Pain in their right ankle confirmed it. This was not how Rat had envisioned the night going. Not at all.

The bathroom fan filled the otherwise silent room with somewhat soothing ambient noise. Rat had removed eight glass shards from their palms. The process of removing the shards had been nearly as excruciating as the fall itself. They’d sat hunched over on the toilet, picking at their shredded skin with a pair of tweezers, intermittently dabbing away blood. Rat had been determined to nurse their own wounds. Rat cleaned the cuts with alcohol and wrapped their hands in gauze before moving onto the swollen ankle.

“Tiger, can you grab the bag of peas from the freezer?” Rat called out through the closed bathroom door.

“Sure, sweetie.” Tiger replied from the other side.

Tiger brought the bag of peas over and wrapped it in a clean dish towel before handing it over to Rat.

“Is it broken?” Tiger asked.

“I don’t know.” Rat replied, laying the bag over their ankle.

The cold immediately calmed the hot throbbing pain of the injury. Rat felt their body relax a little.

“You gonna see a doctor?” Tiger asked, frowning with concern.

“Never.” Rat replied, resolutely.

Tiger sighed. She knew better than to argue with Rat when they were in this state. There was no convincing them.

“Well, I know you won’t but I think you should. That’s just my two cents.” Tiger said, standing. “You almost finished in here?”

“Yeah.” Rat said, flicking one last piece of glass into the trash, “I’m done.”

Tiger held out a hand. “Let me at least help you into bed.”

Rat reluctantly took Tiger’s hand and stood. The blood rushed to their head, and Rat swayed unsteadily. Tiger supported Rat as they hobbled to their bedroom. The floor was a mess from earlier, with stripper beauty products scattered all over. Rat internally cursed themself for being so disorganized.

“Let me make some space.” Tiger said, taking in the mess, “Can you hold yourself up for a minute?”

Rat nodded, and leaned against the door frame as Tiger kicked away the brushes, hair clips, eyeshadow palettes, makeup brushes, and all the other knick knacks to create a little path for Rat, then returned to usher the pitiful creature to bed.

“Thank you.” Rat said, their eyes glistening as they blinked back tears.

“You’re welcome, babycakes.” Tiger said, kissing Rat’s forehead maternally.

As Tiger closed the door, the tears loosed themselves, dripping down Rat’s cheeks. Rat wept silently. Bruised externally and internally from the mess they’d gotten themself into. If the ankle was sprained, it would take several weeks to heal. If it was broken, it would take months. Regardless, Rat was trapped in their own personal hell of helplessness.