Spoiler! :
She was the one. Ever since I first saw her I knew Annie was the one. Our first date I was so elated, like a teenager again, tripping over my words, unable to stop staring. Totally unlike me; the big tough guy from Brooklyn.
But Annie was good to me. She evened me out, taught me patience. That’s something I’ll always carry with me. Until I met her I was the kind of guy to roll down his window and start yelling at the other drivers for not driving the way I wanted them to. And she taught me to take it slow, be kind to people.
The only times we weren’t together was at work. We drove to my work together, then she’d take a bus down to her office at the tower. I worked in a little manufacturing plant and you could see the buildings across the way.
I was in the middle of an inventory report when a coworker of mine came in.
“Mike,” she said, “I just heard on the news. A plane hit the World Trade Center.”
I went to my office and opened the blinds and I could see the smoke pouring from the tower. I grabbed my chair and threw it at the window, cracked the glass all the way down. Don't know why I did it. Maybe I'd hoped she'd hear me.
A nurse came in and brought me a bottle of water, but I couldn’t drink. My hand was shaking so much, splashing the water around, hitting my shirt; I couldn’t stop shaking.
I miss her. I miss the way her eyes sparkled. One day they’d be green, the next blue, depending on how the light hit them. I miss her, and I’m gonna see her again. You hear that, Annie? I’m gonna do enough good to be sure I make it up there.
***
My son, Sam, had been on a vacation to celebrate his graduation and was flying back on flight United 93. He was heading back home when I got his call. I was sitting in my bathrobe, I’d just gotten out of the tub, my arthritis had started back up again.
“Hey Mom,” he said.
I asked him how he was. He told me he was fine. Said he didn’t have long to talk, someone else had to use the phone after him. He asked me how I was. I told him I was fine, just tired and sore. I told him about my day, how I’d got some flowers planted in the garden.
I should have known when he didn’t stop me during my garden stories that something was wrong. But I didn’t notice.
“You should ask out that girl at Blockbuster you like when you get back. I’m sure she’s missed you. What was her name again?”
“Terra, Mom. And yeah, I’ll be sure to do that.”
I told him his father would meet him at the airport when he arrived. I had to make him give me the gate number he’d be arriving at.
He told me he had to go.
“I love you, Sam.”
“I love you too, Mom.”
Those were the last words I spoke to him.
I don’t have any regrets. There’s nothing I could have done different at that moment. There’s not many people who can say that the last words they told their loved one was ‘I love you.’ That helps me sleep at night.
***
I was working on the 88th floor in the tower when it got hit. Lights on the floor cut down right away. I’d been zoning out at my computer when I saw the shadow of the plane swooping down before it hit above. Sounded like thunder, the crash.
There was this girl, Sarah, I didn’t know her name at the time. New girl. Cute, I guess. We never spoke. She was a few cubicles down from me when the lights died. A lot of people got all panicked, screamed, not trampling, but just fearful, you know? Sarah didn’t do that. When the floor began to shake she grabbed me by the arm and told me to get up.
“We need to go, Sean.”
She knew my name, I’m not sure how. I took hold of her hand and led her down the emergency stairwell at the back of the offices. I remember how smooth her skin was, like silk almost. She didn’t sound scared. I could hear her breathing as we rushed down the stairs.
About three flights down something higher up must’ve broken loose. There came this avalanche of slabs of concrete. I could hear the pieces clanging against the metal guardrails on the way down. I looked up and saw this huge chunk coming. But it missed me.
I was still holding Sarah’s hand when she dropped. Hit so hard it pulled me down with her, yanked me off my feet. I heard her bones break. God, that sound. She was gone, I knew it, and I kept moving; left her there. I left her there.
I came out of the building with the crowd. A fireman rushed me off to the side and asked me if I was okay. His eyes were hidden by his mask, his words muffled. I started crying then. He wrapped a blanket around my shoulders.
“This is hers. Should...should be hers,” I told him.
He asked me what I was saying, asked me if I could remember where I was. I sat my self down in the middle of the street. I could see my hands. They were gray with ash. I could see the red of her blood underneath.
“She’s on the 83rd floor.”
And I left her there.
***
My brother came to me the night after the attack.
“Richie,” he said.
“Hey Chuck.”
It was at my apartment, where we met, in my bedroom. The TV was off. I didn’t need to see the reports. Atop my bed stand sat a cordless home phone. A red dot kept flashing on it.
“You need to pick that up," my brother said.
“Why?”
Chuck smiled. He sat down on the bed beside me and clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth.
“Because they need you, dumbass. Everyone does. Mom, Dad, Lisa, Charlie…I’ve got a list prepared if you feel like reading it.”
He held up his hand stared at it a moment, turning it back and forth as though contemplating something.
“What’s it like?” I asked him.
“Like you’d expect. It’s quick. No hassles. No waiting. You’re here, and then you’re there.”
I rose up from my bed and rubbed a hand across the bottom of my nose; had to keep up appearances. I moved from my bed to my dresser and tapped a finger against the chipped frame that held our picture in it. We stood by the pond near our old home.
“Remember this?” I asked.
“Always.”
“Is there anything I can do, Chuck?”
“Just take care of my fish.”
“Alright.”
It was so silent, that moment; so quiet in that room. No kids running around outside. No leaf blowers whirring in the distance. It was time. I wasn’t ready, but he’d helped.
“I’ve got to get going,” he said.
“I know.”
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