"Stan? Honey. I need you to come down."
Dustan Mactore sat still on the stone ledge on the roof of his thirteen story apartment building watching the traffic pass by below.
Everything looked so small from so high up, and his flat green eyes surveyed the tiny cars without really seeing them.
"Please, baby. You're scaring me. Please come down."
He hadn't made the conscious decision to do it. His feet had carried him up the staircase as he'd walked in from work, and when he'd reached his floor, he'd just kept on going.
He'd followed them all the way up until he reached the roof, and then he'd pushed the heavy metal door open.
His feet had carried him to the edge, and peering down, he had stared at the concrete sidewalk that lie two hundred and forty feet below for what seemed like an endless amount of time before he had silently crawled onto the ledge, and taken a seat.
His hands pressed flat on the granite beside him, and he had leaned forward as his eyes focused on a single spot below him. The spot he would land if he decided to jump.
He stayed in that position for a good ten minutes before his wife found him, and began pleading with him to come down from his precarious spot atop the stone.
There were tears in her eyes as she sobbed his name again. "Please don't do this. It will get better. You just have to give it time."
The wind sifted lightly through his dark hair as a pedestrian passed below, and a small smile lifted his lips as he watched them cross past his landing area.
"I can't do this anymore," he said softly. Closing his eyes, he grimaced as pain shot through him. "Just let me do it," he whispered. "Let me do it, Em."
Her voice broke as another sob escaped her. "You can't, Stan. I need you here. I need you to live."
His green eyes were tortured as they gazed up at the darkening sky. "I don't want to be here anymore. It hurts too much. I'm dead inside," he choked.
Taking a cautious step forward, Emily reached out her hand to touch her husband's back, but dropped it at the last moment in fear. "Do it for me," she begged in a whisper. "Do it because you love me."
Dustan turned his head to look at her with red rimmed eyes. The anguish upon his face was apparent. Digging his fingers into the stone, his knuckles whitened as he tried to control the trembling of his mouth.
"Nothing helps," he gasped in a barely audible tone. "Everyday just gets worse and worse. Let me do this," he pleaded.
His wife's blue eyes widened as her thoughts raced, and scrambled for a life line. Anything she could possibly think of to sway him. When she looked back at him her eyes were fierce.
"You're stronger than you think. You are. You don't have to do this if you're willing to fight. You have to fight, Stan. You did it for me when we met. Now, I need you to do it for yourself."
"I can't," he whispered. "Not anymore. I can't do it."
"Please," she begged. "If you love me, you'll come down from that ledge."
*****
It was the beginning of the second semester in his first year as a teacher's aide. He had been astonished that the university had hired him so quickly, but deep down he knew that his uncle's influence as the director of the board had been a large contributing factor in acquiring the heavily coveted position.
It wasn't exactly how he had wished to begin his chosen profession, but he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He was right where he wanted to be, and if his uncle had nudged him along in the process, he was perfectly fine with it.
This was his calling in life. More than anything else in the world, he wanted to teach.
His day began with three classes in the afternoon, a study hall in the university library, and then a final class before his day ended. He was working with his long time mentor, Professor Hollenbeck, and was beyond thrilled to have this opportunity.
It was during the second to last period of the day that his mentor took his dinner break, so Dustan had been assigned to the library to watch over the students in his absence.
His time there over the past week had been quiet, and uneventful, with little to do other than to direct the few students who approached him to a particular row of shelves to find the research they were looking for.
Beyond those few interruptions, he spent the majority of his time sitting at a desk, and had taken to bringing books of his own to keep himself occupied.
He was in the middle of reading The Woman In White by Wilkie Collins, and had become completely engrossed in the plot when he saw her for the very first time.
He just happened to glance up the moment she stepped into the library, and Dustan's world fell away as he watched her cross the room.
As if she had stepped from the pages of his book, she was a vision in white. She was petite, and slender with large blue eyes, and a halo of golden hair that reached her shoulders.
Her white summer dress had little golden flowers etched into it, and the matching white cardigan she wore over it was slightly too large for her small frame. It made her hands practically disappear inside of the sleeves as she hiked her books in her arms to grasp a firmer hold on them.
He watched as she walked towards a table not far from the desk he sat at, and set them down before taking a seat so that she was facing him. Pulling the top book from the stack before her, she set it on the wooden table top, and opened the cover to flip through the first few pages.
He was still thoroughly gawking at her when she happened to lift her head, and caught his eyes upon her.
Dropping his gaze quickly, Dustan peered down at his book as his heart accelerated rapidly. After a moment, he chanced another look at her, and sighed in relief when he saw that she had returned to her reading. It gave him ample opportunity to study her.
She was so delicate that she almost appeared fragile. Her skin was pale, and smooth, and her coloring gave her the look of an angel. For a moment he wondered to himself if she was even real, but then she lifted her head once more, and he looked into her large, blue eyes.
It caused his breath to halt in his chest as he was struck by the beauty of them. They were like two giant, clear pools that dominated her small face, and he was completely entranced by them as she looked at him questioningly. Turning her head to glance about the room, her gaze met his once more as he continued to stare.
Once he finally realized what it was that he was doing, he lowered his eyes to the desk top, and lifted his book as he made every effort not to blush.
When she left her seat, and approached him, Dustan swallowed hard before raising his head to meet her gaze.
Her brows knitted as she looked at him making his apprehension increase. "Are you a teacher here?" she asked softly.
Dustan had to clear his throat before he was able to speak. "Yes. Is there something I can do for you?"
Her frown increased as she looked him over. "You seem awfully young to be a teacher," she told him.
Dustan faltered as he lowered his book to the table. "I'm a teaching assistant," he admitted. "I'm working towards my certification."
"Do you know anything about philosophy?" she asked curiously.
His green eyes widened in surprise before he nodded. "Some. Did you need help with something?"
Her blue eyes became hesitant as she bit her lip. "I'm supposed to write an essay that explores my favorite philosopher's ideas, but I don't really have one, and have never taken an interest before. I'm not entirely sure where to start."
Dustan's face lit up with a smile. "There's a lot to choose from. You could go back as far as Aristotle and Plato, or you could stick to more modern philologists such as Friedrich Nietzsche. I guess it all depends on who's viewpoints you can relate to."
She seemed at a complete loss. "Most of them seem to talk circles around themselves without ever really getting to a point. It seems like most of philosophy is just throwing out ideas that aren't really ideas. They're questions to things that people have trouble accepting the answers to."
Dustan nodded in agreement, before frowning. "Maybe in order to find the right one, you should think about what your own philosophy in life is, and then try to find one that is like minded in their position."
His response made her smile as she tilted her head. "That's actually not that bad of an idea," she answered. "I'm going to do that."
Dustan was stunned as he looked up at her. When she smiled it lit up her face so that she became absolutely radiant. He had never seen anything so beautiful in his life.
He felt like he was in a daze as he responded. "I'm glad I could help. Anything that you need you can feel free to come to me. I'm here everyday."
"I really appreciate that," she said softly. "What's your name?"
"It's Dustan." Closing his eyes, he shook his head. "I mean, Mr. Mactore." Sighing, a self deprecating smile passed over his lips. Then he looked up at her sheepishly. "Dustan Mactore," he finally settled on.
She seemed amused by his indecision. "My name is Emily Woodsen. Thank you for your help, Dustan Mactore." With another small smile, she turned way from him, and headed back towards her table.
Once she was seated again, Dustan exhaled slowly. The encounter had filled him with so much nervous energy, and elation that he felt like his entire frame was vibrating with it. He found that he was having trouble looking away from her now that their interaction had come to an end.
He had to keep pretending that he was reading the book in front of him, but after twenty minutes he realized that he hadn't absorbed a single word, and that he was still on the same page he had been on when he started.
When that thought sunk in, he lowered the book to the table once more, and closed it. His eyes were immediately drawn back to the girl. Her arm was bent, and her elbow rested upon the table as she leaned her head on the top of her hand.
Her eyes were downcast on the book in front of her, and she was completely unaware that he had returned to the rude crime of pointedly staring.
He just couldn't help himself. She was too lovely for him to look away, and his green eyes feasted on her as if he were starving, and she was his sustenance.
