Jimmy, the Architect by Dan Shpyra

As he was falling from the rooftop, Jimmy`s whole life flashed before his eyes. That is why it was even more upsetting. A gap year in Australia, a few good years at college, and a job until he finds something better. After his skull would have crushed against asphalt, his brain splashed all over the road, and his broken limbs would be packed in a plastic bag, would there be a grand procession? Or, perhaps, just his parents and two or three friends would mourn him for a month. Falling, Jimmy knew: the latter was the case. They would have to use vague language during his eulogy sprinkled with cliches, for there was not much to tell.

“Jimmy was a nice guy. He liked sports and video games. He will be missed.” He imagined what Carter would say: so much for a best friend.

“I could tolerate him for a few hours every week. He bought me some stuff and he paid our bills at restaurants.” Ashley would come, he was sure of it. She would feel guilty not to, even though they broke up three months ago.

“Oh, my boy! We loved him so much! Maybe not so much his older brother, Jason, but…” His mom`s ramble would be quite predictable.

He imagined the entire event. There would be twenty, perhaps thirty people. All in black. Most of them would be part of the local church, who would have nothing better to do that day. His extended family would look all concerned and grave, or at least they would pretend to. Carter and Ashley would be upset in the church but would hook up right after the funeral. Life is short. Jimmy already predicted their reasoning. Mom would sob, and dad would drink. Jason would stop by for twenty minutes just to attend to our mom.

They would pick St. Paul`s. Everyone knew he loved it. Jimmy was not religious: he couldn’t stay awake during the sermons his mom took him to as a kid. But he enjoyed his stay in the church when no one was there. He loved to walk around the nave, studying beautiful stained-glass windows. He remembered strolling between the transepts, admiring the mighty arches: a glorious unity of rock and timber. Not only St. Paul`s, but any echoes of the past erected in stone pleased him. Why were modern buildings so hideous? He would’ve loved to see those gentle strokes of art back onto our facades. Perhaps, he should’ve studied architecture instead of law and created it himself.

Jimmy could have, but he jumped; his skull was crushed against asphalt, his brain splashed all over the road, and I packed his broken limbs in a plastic bag.

Shpyra, Dan

Image: Christopher Wren, CC0, via Wikimedia Commons – sepia drawing of St Paul’s Cathedral