Every story worth telling begins with an inciting incident. Alright, I know a bunch of you reading this just had some kind of flashback to high school literature classes and the dreaded “story structure” chart, but stay with me on this. While there was a certain appeal to having a big, sexy hook to draw in readers; like a billionaire being orphaned in an alleyway before becoming a superhero, or two lonely hearts exchanging letters through a timey-wimey mailbox… not all stories lent themselves to something so grandiose.

 

I’d love to say that this story began with an enigmatic device blasting a pair of star-crossed lovers into a new dimension, or a down on her luck author meeting a supposedly fictional character, but that would be me sacrificing the bigger picture for my own vanity’s sake. If you’ve stuck around this long, you deserved the truth.

 

My story didn’t begin with some flashy display or serendipitous meeting, not really. My story began a few years prior, at a little place people like to call rock bottom. This was the story of the day I thought I’d die. This was the story of the window.

 

***

 

Tearing through my closet like a fiend, I feverishly searched for something I knew wasn’t there. If I was going to make my stunning debut as Leona, I refused to limit myself to the same boring wardrobe I stuck with every other day. I may not look like a Leona, or sound like a Leona, so the least I could do was channel her confidence some other way. Unfortunately, the reality of my situation was that a potent mixture of poverty and general apathy severely limited the clothes I’d bothered buying over the years and nothing here would do.

 

Fishing my phone out of my pocket, I dialed the one man I knew had what I needed. “Drew!” I yelled as my friend answered with a groggy greeting. He worked as a bouncer at some of the clubs in town and kept an even stranger sleep schedule than me. “Man, I really need you to swing by and pick me up if that’s cool… it’s kind of an emergency-- Yes, yes I saw the mango… hilarious as always. So, can you come? Awesome! Oh, right, one more thing…”

 

***

 

Growing up, friends, family, even pop culture, everyone told me that college was going to be the highlight of my life. Four years of freedom and joy framed by the incredible experience of learning skills that would ensure my future success… and I was dumb enough to drink the kool-aid. I put my nose to the grindstone in high school and worked my ass off to earn my place at the University of my choice, complete with a decent scholarship. Words couldn’t express how proud my family was-- how proud I was. In their minds, me getting to college marked their ultimate success and the promise that I’d make something of myself one day. Everything was finally coming up Millhouse… or so I thought.

 

The summer after my sophomore year, I got sick. Like, really sick. At first, I thought I’d just eaten something bad. I was in college, after all, and my diet was questionable on the best of days. I tried riding out the storm on my own but quickly found myself getting worse and worse. At around the one-week mark, I threw in the towel and went to a doctor. My symptoms were severe, but apparently not worrisome enough and I was brushed off unceremoniously. Two weeks later I went back and was quickly referred out. I ricocheted from one specialist to another like a pinball rocketing between the bells and whistles of my machine. At the end of it all, I was left with nothing but a blanket diagnosis and the ‘sincere’ well-wishes of my final doc.

 

I was at a loss.

 

***

 

Drew pulled up in front of my apartment not ten minutes later. The large man popped his shiny bald head out of the driver's side window and looked me up and down. “You don’t look like you’re dying, so what’s the emergency?” Drew seemed agitated and I could only assume it was because I disturbed his much-needed beauty sleep earlier.

 

“I really have to get somewhere quick man. I appreciate the help, I owe you one!” 

 

My friend’s expression dropped. “Your dumb ass really called me here like an Uber for a free ride? There are apps for this now, man! And didn’t you have a car!?”

 

With a shrug and a smile, I held my empty hands up to the night sky. “It was… kind of stolen?”

 

“How the hell can a car be kind of stolen!? You know what? I don’t really want to know. It’s too early for your extra shit.” In my defense, it was seven in the evening. “Just get in so I can get some more shut-eye before work.” Bless his sleep-deprived heart.

 

***

 

My whole life, I’d rationalized health as something so simple. You were sick or you weren’t. If you were sick, the doctors could tell you what was wrong and make it better. Now… they were all as clueless as I was.

 

When the fall rolled around, it had been just under three months since my body betrayed me. I’d lost an alarming amount of weight and people I’d known only a few months ago didn’t recognize what I’d become. Deep down, I knew I wasn’t well enough to take classes… but I had to try. Maybe, just maybe, if I forced myself back into my normal life, my body would reward me with that same normalcy. 

 

My first day back, I was in the middle of the introductory lecture for some anthropology course when a familiar pain ripped through my abdomen. I bit back the pain, trying my best to look and act normal amidst my peers. The professor’s voice faded as all of my concentration filtered into trying to tolerate the stabbing sensation in my gut. Despite the subzero temperature of the lecture hall, beads of sweat started pouring down me on all fronts. My t-shirt had become damp and I could hear my heart pounding in my ears. The blue patterns on the carpet began to swirl and distort as the room swung around me like it was on a pendulum.

 

Despite my desire to not stand out, I caused a major ruckus as I tripped over a few chairs while desperately fleeing from the room. The next day, I called the admissions office and put myself on a leave of absence. It was official, I was broken. That night, I went to bed humming the theme song from the Island of Misfit Toys, corrupting one of my favorite childhood shows into a twisted metaphor for my new reality.

 

***

 

“This place? Really? Tell me again what’s happening here?” Drew had pulled up to the address I gave him and both of us did a double-take.

 

We had arrived at an abandoned nightclub on the far side of town. The place was so damned deserted you couldn’t hear another soul for miles and the street lights flickered on and off, straining to remain somewhat useful. “Would you believe me if I said I was meeting a girl?”

 

Drew turned back to face me, abject disappointment painted across his face. “Are you high? You’re not going in there.” I was. “Oh hell no, that’s your ‘I’m totally going to ignore my incredibly handsome friend’s advice’ face. Man, if you call me in the middle of the night because you woke up in an ice bath missing a kidney I’m leaving your ass for dead.”

 

“Appreciate the sentimentality as always buddy. Also…” It probably wasn’t the right time to ask for something else but I was already kind of on a pain-in-the-ass roll. “Did you bring it?”

 

The sigh that Drew unleashed upon the earth could have blown down a forest. “Yes, I brought it… but you have to stop calling it my ‘Knight Rider’ jacket, man. That movie blows.”

 

With a dramatic flourish that was equal parts unnecessary and appropriate, Drew threw his trademark leather jacket at me. “Oh yeah, because ‘Terminator’ jacket is so much better.”

 

One of Drew's fingers pointed directly at my face as he became deadly serious. “Arnold is an Austrian-American treasure and he will not be disrespected in my car!” Cracking open the passenger door, I hopped out of Drew’s ride. Staring down the venue for the so-called ‘climax’ I suddenly felt much less certain about my decision to come. Behind me, I heard Drew’s engine turn over and the gratingly loud gear shift whine. “Be safe, don’t die… and for the love of god, call a cab next time!”

 

***

 

Two more months had come and gone and the cold of winter had made its presence known. After failing to last even a single day in classes, I had given up. Since being conscious was so painful, I took every opportunity I could to sleep. Keeping anything down was a herculean task, so most days I’d just have a single piece of toast or a cup of applesauce just to say I wasn’t starving myself. Sleep. Wake up. Eat. Pain. Sleep. Repeat ad-infinitum. Television had lost its luster, video games were tedious and unimportant, what friends I’d managed to keep in touch with slowly forgot me amidst the hustle and bustle of their exciting lives. I was well and truly alone.

 

Even while on a leave of absence, I was still allowed to stay in student housing. The school had cut a deal with some of the highrise apartments in the area that allowed us students to afford small flats on our own. Room 2804 had become my prison.

 

Some random day in hell, I think it was a Tuesday, I was laying in bed. Sleep was eluding me but not for lack of trying. As I could feel the intangible fetters of unconsciousness slowly wrapping around me, a chilling draft jolted me awake. I pulled the covers tighter around myself and tried again. Now there was an incessant clattering. The breeze had knocked something loose and all I could hear was an erratic melody of clicks and clacks as metal met metal. Grumbling about having to walk five feet, I rolled out of bed and shambled over to the inanimate pest.

 

***

 

Clad in faded jeans, a white t-shirt, and Drew’s prized Knight Rider jacket (Suck it, James Cameron), I looked more like a bargain bin The Outsiders reject than my personal idol of femininity. At least biker-chic was closer to Leona’s normal aesthetic than I could normally manage… we all had to work with what we were given in this life. Feeling terrified about possibly intruding on some serial killer’s secret hideout I only prayed that I wouldn’t stumble onto Michael Vorhees or Bubba Krueger during my (hopefully) short time here.

 

The inside of the club hadn’t fared much better than the exterior. Paint had chipped off of all of the walls and the entire floor was covered in a thick sheet of dust, asbestos, and probably strychnine. Of course this place’s electricity had been shut off and I was left relying on my phone as a flashlight, that was a given, but the amount of broken glass and random goop spread every which way made traversing the structure more treacherous than it needed to be.

 

Twenty minutes after I’d arrived I realized something profoundly important. I was the only one here. This may have all been for nothing. In my haste and excitement, I’d neglected to notice the distinct lack of a date or time for this climax. The sad fact was that Ralee may not have seen the message to begin with. I really just took those cryptic words at face value and showed up here on nothing but blind, stupid faith. Turning off my flashlight for a moment, I switched my phone back to my browser app and opened up the chapter that had led me here, hoping against all odds that I had missed some critical piece of information that could salvage tonight. While the world around me was plunged into darkness, I heard footsteps coming from the entrance.

 

***

 

The studio apartment I was staying in had one large window that overlooked the school. It was one of the fixtures of my home I had never focused too much on. Having a powerful fear of heights made a view more of a curse than a blessing, after all. The screen rattled in the window frame as the freezing winter wind howled between buildings. It was incredible the things you never noticed because you saw them every day. The screen always seemed like some absolute and built-in part of the apartment, but in reality, it was held in place by four fragile clips. Guess it made sense, some people actually cleaned their home and wouldn’t be as accepting of the accumulated grime staining the mesh surface as I was.

 

I reached out, scared and unsure for some reason, and tightened the loose clip which managed to stop the incessant rattling. There, job done, back to sleep. Only, I didn’t move from where I stood. I stared out of the window as I was continuously buffeted by the powerful gusts from outside.

 

There were just four clips. That’s all that kept this barrier up. It couldn’t possibly be that easy to take out this screen, right? Before I could process where my mind was spiraling towards, I had already begun loosening the clips. When the final one gave way, the screen was blown out of the frame and landed on the floor. It was open. That wasn’t at all safe. How could a building like this contain such a crippling design flaw? It didn’t make sense.

 

I leaned my body outside and looked down, expecting to see some kind of trapeze net or something that would explain how it was possible to just pop open a window on the twenty-eighth floor. All I saw was the drop: three hundred feet at least, straight down onto the sidewalk’s pavement.

 

That was when everything clicked. I had never had a thought like this before-- aside from the strange intrusive thoughts I wanted to believe everyone had from time to time.

 

What if I jumped?

 

Not a second later, I was already laughing off the idea. That’d be crazy. I couldn’t possibly just climb over the windowsill and let go. The world didn’t work that way, some magic genie would pop out of nowhere and pull me back inside, or a flock of birds would swoop down and carry me back to safety. Actually… dying… wasn’t an option.

 

If I died I’d never see my family again, never hang out with friends, wouldn’t get to try that new pho place down the road. I wouldn’t have to deal with doctors anymore, could be free from the pervasive and unceasing pain, finally fucking rest peacefully without waking up to the glaringly bleak reality I’d become accustomed to--

 

My hands were gripped tightly on the window frame as my left foot planted itself on the sill. This was really it. I would be free. Just one more step--

 

***

 

“Leona!” A familiar voice called from the blackness. Abandoning my task, I returned to my flashlight app and started waving around my light, desperate to find the one searching for me. “Leona is that you!?” As Ralee rounded the corner into the main dance floor only to find me, her excitement extinguished immediately. “You again? Haven’t you done enough already?” Ouch.

 

I took a couple of steps towards Ralee as she took a few away. “Ralee, I-- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.” From her expression, I could tell Ralee’s animosity towards me was only growing. “I get it, an apology doesn’t cut it. You’re pissed-- Rightfully so! But, please give me a chance to explain.”

 

“Explain what, exactly, the way you ruined my life for a story? How about explaining how you had me lose the best person I’d ever known to some bullshit plot device. Or maybe you’d like to take a swing at explaining why you let me stew in madness and grief for months before giving me a chance to come all the way to this world, all the way here, just to find you!” Her words dug into my chest and bored through to whatever diseased mass I called a heart. “Face it, Rob, we have nothing more to talk about.”

 

My head hung in shame as I took the brunt of her anger once again. I had no right to speak up against anything she said, it was my fault any of this had happened in the first place. She wasn’t wrong about anything… except one detail. “--ona…” The words barely eked out of me but hadn’t quite amassed the power needed to be audible.

 

“What was that? I don’t think I heard you, oh great creator!”

 

Steeling myself, I looked Ralee in the eyes. “My name isn’t Rob… it’s Leona.”

 

My fear of finally saying it out loud, of being rejected or denied, was only matched by Ralee’s confusion. Before either of us could say a word more we were interrupted by a condescendingly slow clap from the shadows.

 

***

 

My eyes were drawn to a familiar yet bizarre figure I could see in the sliding glass of the window. The person who was climbing outside… It looked a lot like me, but he was definitely different in a few ways. First and foremost, he was much more masculine than I was at the time. It was like looking in a funhouse mirror, only those mirrors didn’t typically change the clothes you were wearing. Immediately forgetting my own self-destructive impulses, all I wanted to do was stop him from jumping. I backed off the ledge and he did the same. We stared at each other for a few moments, both equally confused and afraid. This phenomenon was lasting so long, I was almost convinced he was real. Then I blinked, and he was gone. All I saw in the window was myself dumbly staring back as if I’d expected something more.

 

Of course he hadn’t been real… but it didn’t matter. “Leon,” The first time I said the word, it felt right. It was sweet as an apple and went down as smooth as aged whiskey. All I had done was drop the ‘A’ from my own name, but the difference was stark and wonderful. He was Leon, and he would be an avatar for all of my fantasies. He would get to live a nice, peaceful, normal life. Maybe he would work in a restaurant and get to have snappy interactions with customers all the time. Maybe he would drive a shitty car around town like I did while constantly trying to make it as a writer. All I knew for certain was that Leon wasn’t going to be sick like me, and he was going to have the best life I could possibly give him. Inspiration flooded my senses as I quickly closed up the window and opened my computer for the first time in weeks.

 

That was the day I wrote the first chapter of Leon’s Life, a story I thought was safely contained to the realm of fiction. It also marked the first day of my symptoms subsiding for reasons that baffled myself and the doctors. The very next semester I was back in class with a new major in engineering… and within a month, I’d meet Ralee.

 

***

“Holy shit, you finally got it, huh?” Taking my light off of Ralee, I followed the new voice to a tattered love seat in the corner occupied by a familiar sight. “Took you long enough, thought you’d need to be spoon-fed there for a bit.” Clad in ripped jeans and a grey tank top was Leona… the Leona I’d seen in the window all those years ago. Only, something was different. Their hair had been cut shorter and they had the faintest trace of stubble forming on their face. “Hey there, Ralee, good to see you again.” The person on the couch sent a half-hearted salute in Ralee’s direction but never took their eyes off of me. “I’m guessing at least a brief introduction is in order given the stunned silence. The name’s Leon, nice to finally meet you.”