Calvin’s apartment was a few miles from downtown by way the backstreets. He had driven it so many times, he could get there blindfolded. That was not far from the truth since he was so angry, he was barely watching the road. He rambled bitterly to himself, decrying Christmas, “her,” and himself. He especially decried his failed attempt at being a Good Samaritan. Despite my good intentions, it was all for nothing.

            A half-mile ahead on the lonely road was the water tower bearing the name of the town and, ironically, the name “Jennifer.” It seemed like every small town in the country had one of these. Calvin never understood why. He doubted they actually housed any water now. They were just big banners for the towns. Vienna’s was not even that remarkable. It was shorter than most at just over one-hundred-fifty feet tall, and it was painted a solid white with the words, “Vienna, Home of the Corn Festival,” painted in black on opposite sides. It was strung up with multi-colored Christmas lights now, so Calvin could read the name “Jennifer” written in red spray paint.

            He pounded the steering wheel. I don’t need a reminder.

            But as he got closer, Calvin noticed movement at the top of the water tower. Slowing his car, he glanced up, squinting. Silhouetted against the rainbow of lights was a small figure—a woman—standing in front of the spray-painted name. She was leaning dangerously far over the guard rail.

            Why on earth is someone—

            His eyes widened to size of baseballs at his realization.

            “Oh no! Jen!”

            He slammed his brakes, bringing his Escort to a screeching halt at the curve of the street near the water tower. He threw the car into park, jumped out of it—neglecting to close the door or turn off the headlights—and sprinted toward the water tower. His trench coat suddenly felt encumbering, so he awkwardly unbuttoned it as he ran and tossed it off. Snow caked his shoes and socks, melting and soaking his feet and threatening to freeze them, but he ignored it. Frigid air stung his cheeks and rubbed raw his throat, but something numbed him to the pain. Maybe it was adrenaline. Or was it a heroic determination?

            He reached the concrete base where the water tower stood on four pillar-like legs. Desperately, he searched for the ladder, his quick breaths exhaling in white mists. There! The opposite corner! he thought, pointing. He dashed under the water tower and grabbed the rungs at his eye level, looking up.

            Suddenly, he saw something fall from the catwalk. His heart jumped into his throat. It crashed into the ground next to him.

            Calvin heard plastic crunch.

            It was a denim purse.

            “Phew!” he blurted.

            Then he took a deep breath and started climbing the ladder. For the first time in a long while, he prayed—prayed that his grip would be firm.

            Up, up, up. Calvin would not take his eyes off the top of the ladder, but it never seemed to get closer no matter how fast he climbed. It only made him more determined to close the distance. He constantly kept an eye out to see if something or someone fell from the water tower, always making sure to shout pleas to Jen to stop.

            Finally, exhausted despite his adrenaline rush, Calvin reached the top. He was greeted by the huge letters reading, “Vienna.” Jen’s just on the other side! Bracing himself on the guard rail, he hurried around the water tower.

            He froze when he found Jen.

            She was leaning over the railing, although not enough to fall, but it was enough to make Calvin’s heart skip a beat. Her black high-heel boots were half-over the edge of the catwalk. She wore a sky-blue winter coat with a furry, white lining. The hood was off, so her long blonde hair flapped in the wintry breeze, which also carried the scent of her perfume into Calvin’s nostrils. Hot breaths poured from her mouth. She was sobbing.

            Calvin stepped toward her, saying, “Jen, please don’t—”

            “Come any closer and I’ll jump!” she exclaimed, sharply turning her head toward him. Her make-up was smeared, her mascara bleeding from her sapphire eyes in black tendrils and her rosy cheeks parted by streaking tears. She looked like a melting wax figure.

            Calvin held up his hands and stepped back. “Okay, okay! I’m sure that’s what you came here to do, but I won’t rush you.” It was Calvin’s old habit to use humor to lighten tense situations. It was not working.

            For several long minutes, only the wind spoke.

            During this, Jen looked away, staring at the faraway ground. She stood halfway over the rail, sobbing, but did not move. In the flickering light, Calvin saw tears fall off her face and to the ground below. He was glad those were the only things falling from the water tower.

            I should say something, but I don’t want to startle her and make her slip. But how can I know what I say won’t compel her to jump?

            He summoned the courage to speak and opened his mouth.

            But Jen beat him to it.

            “This is where it all started. James and I. He risked his life and an arrest to climb up here and paint my name on the tower during the Corn Festival. When people gathered around to see what he was doing, he called for me and asked me to climb up here with him.”

            She paused to sob, so Calvin injected, “I know. I heard about it.”

            Ignoring him, she continued. “I’ve always been a daredevil, I climbed up here. He told me he’d seen me at work and thought I was the prettiest girl in town, and he knew he’d have to do something big to ask me out. We sat up there and watched the sun set. He said it was just like an episode of Smallville where Clark and Lana have a picnic on the top of a water tower. I’d never seen that show, but it sounded so romantic.” She choked on sobs.

            “It’s…okay,” Calvin said hesitatingly.

            “NO IT’S NOT!” she shouted, firing a glare at him. Her smeared make-up had transformed her pretty face into that of a ghoul.

            Calvin flinched, almost slipping.

            “I’ve…I’ve waited years to hear a man say something like that to me. Everyone always told me I was pretty and sweet and exciting, but no boys ever asked me out. They always went after my friends. I went to prom alone while everyone else had a date. I was always a bridesmaid but never a bride. Every time I walked down an aisle in a pretty dress and no groom, a little piece of me died because I knew…I knew I hadn’t been chosen…and I never would.” Jen hung her head and her tears fell like rain to the ground.

            Calvin was still as a statue. Keep her talking. So long as she is, she won’t jump. So, he dared to say, “Then James came along.”

            Jen sniffed. “Yes,” she said, her voice sounding slightly hoarse. “I loved him. And I thought he loved me. He never said or did anything that told me he didn’t.” She pounded the railing. “Until tonight!”

            “Well, if it helps you feel better, the ticket girl at the Haydn is on your side.”

            “It doesn’t matter!” she exclaimed, leaning a little farther over the railing. Her voice echoed in the empty water tower.

            Calvin swallowed hard and said, “I know how you feel.”

            “No you don’t! I’m so sick of hearing that! You don’t know what it’s like to wait years for love! Then it finally comes—and it’s taken away again!”

            Jen’s feet slid an inch farther over the edge, but Calvin had closed his eyes and clenched his fists. Her words bore into his soul, stabbed his heart. His terrified concern was replaced by an indignant rage.

            “You never can and never will understand!” she shouted.

            “Dammit, woman!” shot Calvin, his fist pounding against the water tower. A hollow gong echoed through it.

            Suddenly, Jen was the one flinching.

            Calvin stood there, silent, breathing through gritted teeth and letting his hand go numb against the cold metal surface of the tower. His muscles were tense, as if he was poised to spring and shove her off himself. But slowly, his bowed head rose and his eyes opened.

            “Don’t tell me I don’t know what it’s like, because I do! I know what it’s like to be left on the market and ignored. To be adored for while and then thrown away and replaced. To be treated like the new toy a kid gets for Christmas that he plays with until he gets a better one the next day. To be so broken that you don’t know if anyone will ever want you again. To be the gift someone always returns to the store.”

            Jen was speechless.

            “But I go on. I go on because I must. Because I know…I know God has better things in store for me.” He extended his hand to Jen. “And for you.”

            Silence.

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