10 Seconds to Touchdown

What am I doing here? Standing on Detroit Marriott’s rooftop at the RenCen, looking down at Detroit River, holding a gun.

It’s a beautiful sunny Saturday morning. The river is calm and flat as a mirror, but it’s very windy and turbulent on the 720ft tall hotel roof.

I press the gun to my head and try to pull the trigger one more time. The barrel is still warm, but the hammer is stuck. I drop the old gun and climb to the ledge, leaping over antenna cables.

I look down. It would take me about 7 seconds to reach the ground. I always do that - I calculate probabilities, distances, velocities, and timings. I can’t help it. The numbers appear in my mind. The probability of survival is pretty easy to calculate - no more than a zero.

10 seconds to touchdown…

I close my eyes and count to three. I don’t know why I do that. Do I expect some miracle to happen in the next three seconds? Do I need more time to think this through?

Three seconds passed.

There is no miracle.

I look back at the metal roof door. Can I go back? My shirt is covered with blood, her blood. My choices are simple - I can either spend the rest of my miserable life alone in jail, knowing that my children will resent me until I die, or end it now. 

I jump.

7 seconds to touchdown…

I feel like God put my life in slow motion as if to stretch my last 7 seconds. I wanted to end it as fast as possible, but he decided I go to hell, and for sinners, hell starts before death.

I pass the 70th floor.

Jenny is lying on the bed of the Junior suite, covered with blood. No one found the body yet.

She is wearing a white skirt and a blood-red push-up bra. It was white before I shot her heart.

A neat blue dress is lying on the bed beside her. Was she dressing or undressing?

I am sorry, Jenny. I freaked out, and I might have overreacted. But I couldn’t stand the little lies anymore - The unexplained sneaking out of the house, the secret phone calls that made you rush out of rooms, those mysterious credit card charges.

Did you think that I would not check on you? That I would not call your friend with whom you were supposedly meet and find out she doesn’t know where you are? Didn’t you think that I would follow you to the hotel where you planned your love affair while I was supposed to be in a business meeting?

For 25 years of marriage, I have always felt it was too good to be true. Jenny was out of my league. She was so beautiful and so smart, I was surprised she said ‘yes’ when I found the courage to propose. I always feared that she would wake up one day and realize that I was not the right man for her. Every mysterious phone call made me more suspicious and more fearful.

I hoped it was all a big misunderstanding. I hoped I would not find you half-naked on the top floor of a nice hotel room. You looked surprised and puzzled when I entered the room. Your smile was as fake as your feelings to me. Surely you didn’t expect me. 

Who was it? Who were you waiting for?  

5 seconds to touchdown…

I pass the 60th floor.

A young couple is making love on the bed near the window.

Are they cheaters too? Did she sneak out of the house while her husband is away? Did she tell him she goes shopping? 

How many lies did you tell, lady? Does your husband know?

Does he have a broken heart?

3 seconds to touchdown…

My body is dropping at 80 miles per hour now, but I feel like floating.

I pass the 40th floor. It’s the fitness center.

Who is that running on the treadmill? It’s Jim, my boss!

I knew it! Old bustard, you are the guy!

Jim is ten years older than me but very sporty and light-minded. Since his divorce (and probably a long time before the divorce), he always surrounds himself with younger women.

I start to connect the dots. It all makes sense now.

Jim tried to send me away to some bogus meeting on the other side of town on Saturday morning. He tried to trick me while spending time with my Jenny.

Bustard!

He has been keeping secrets from me in the last month. He goes to meetings that are not in the office diary, makes personal phone calls that he hangs up whenever I entered his office, and the smell… I’m sure I could smell her perfume in his office.

How could I be such a fool?

Jim, you bustard! Of all the women you can get, you had to take my wife.

I should have waited for you in the room with the gun! 

1 second to touchdown…

Just below me is the patio. There is a reception going on. People are having fun, celebrating, while I am dying, and my cheating wife is upstairs bleeding to death.

It’s my 50th birthday today, and we had plans for some small family dinner later in the evening. I guess the dinner plan is canceled.

At 100 miles per hour, my eyes are watery, but I can recognize some faces.

Hey, it’s Suzanne from Accounting and George from Sales! Actually, the whole office is here, having drinks not far from my future crash site.

My golf partners are here, too. And my brother with his family…

And the boys… My boys… Sam and Dave… They look cheerful, wearing new suits. It looks good on them. Did they come with Jenny?

Why are all my friends and family here? Is that a surprise party for me? Was that the big secret?

 Touchdown…

I am so sorry, Jenny.