United We Stand (8 page)

“Can you do me a favor?” she asked. “Yeah, I’ll call and let you know that I’m okay,” I said.

She smiled. “Am I that predictable?”

“Completely.”

“I just need to know that you’re fine.”

“You always need to know that.”

“Now more than usual. Just call, okay?”

“Do I ever not call?”

She gave me a hug. “You’re a good guy.”

“I try. I’ll call.”

I hurried out the front door and skidded to a stop. I didn’t see James. I hadn’t taken that long, had I? Where had he gone to, and how would I— I saw him standing a few houses down, leaning against a tree on the boulevard. I joined him.

“So, where to?” I asked.

“Nowhere special.”

We started up the street. We were the only people out and walking. That wasn’t unusual for my neighborhood. It seemed like sometimes the only people I saw out on the street were the ones who worked for the lawn-care companies. Everybody else was in houses or in their cars.

With school being canceled there probably should have been some kids around, but there weren’t that many kids in my neighborhood to begin with. My mother called our area a more “mature” community. That just meant that the houses were so big and expensive that most of the owners had kids who were already grown up. There were a couple of kids that were my age or a little older, but hardly anybody younger.

James’s neighborhood was only a dozen streets over, but it was completely different. The houses were smaller and there were always lots of kids. Funny how that worked: smaller houses equaled more kids; bigger houses equaled fewer kids. Not that we were going there. I didn’t know where James was leading
us, but it was pretty much in the opposite direction from his house.

“Cross over,” James said suddenly.

“What?”

He bumped into me, and we abruptly crossed the street.

At first I wasn’t sure why he’d done that, and then I saw the reason. There were some people coming down the street, and I figured he wanted to avoid them. That was probably the whole logic of going away from his house. The farther away we got, the less chance he’d run into somebody he knew.

“You hungry?” I asked.

“Nope.”

“Thirsty?”

“No … well, maybe a little.”

“How about a coffee?”

“I don’t have any money.”

“My treat. You can get the next one.”

I wanted a coffee, and we both knew the best place to get one. But more important, I liked the idea of actually heading to a specific destination. I didn’t like just wandering.

We cut through the park and headed down the main street. I was shocked by how quiet it was. There was barely any traffic, and a lot of the stores were closed. I knew that businesses in the city had shut down, but I hadn’t really thought about the stores on our little main street not being open. I just hoped that didn’t apply to the coffee shop … No, there
were people at the tables and at the counter, waiting to be served. It was actually quite crowded. I guessed that even disaster didn’t stop people from wanting caffeine.

James abruptly stopped in his tracks. “I don’t want to go in.”

“You can wait here and I’ll bring it out.”

He sat down on a bench.

As soon as I opened the door I knew he’d made the right decision. There was a TV on, tuned to coverage of what people were now calling “9/11.” Since when had there been a television in here?

I joined the back of the line. Everybody in the whole coffee shop had their eyes on the screen. I didn’t look. I just wished I couldn’t hear, either.

The commentators were talking about the digging that was going on, looking for survivors … looking for people like James’s father. I couldn’t help glancing up at the T V. It was a live picture—that’s what it said in a little box in the corner of the screen. It was beginning to look like a familiar scene. Smoke or steam was rising up from the twisted girders. Firefighters and men with yellow or white hard hats were moving through the debris, removing it, little by little. Flashing lights pulsed.

“And the search continues,” the unseen announcer said. “The workers are now being aided by sonar devices, and rescue dogs, specially trained to smell people beneath avalanches, have been brought into service.”

The scene changed to show one of those dogs. It was a Golden Retriever wearing a bright- yellow harness with a long leash attached … and what was on its feet?

“The dogs have been equipped with shoes so their paws are not burned,” the announcer said, answering my question. “The metal remains hot as there are fires still burning below the surface.”

“What can I get for you, son?” the man behind the counter asked.

I started back to the present. “Sorry, I was just watching.”

“Hard not to watch. What will it be?” he asked.

“Two coffees, black, with two sugars each.”

“No problem. It is hard to take your eyes off it, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, hard.”

“I’m just glad I was here and not there,” he said.

“I was there.”

“What?”

“Yesterday. Me and my father.”

“Hey, Sam,” he called out, and the other guy behind the counter turned to face us. “This guy was there yesterday.”

“You were down in New York?” Sam asked. I didn’t really know him, but I knew he was the owner of the place.

“Yeah, I was there.”

“How close?” he asked.

“Right there.”

“You mean … ?”

I nodded.

“Right in the World Trade Center?” he asked, incredulous. Some of the people at the counter turned to look at me, and I suddenly wished I hadn’t said anything.

“Yeah.”

“You mean
by
the towers?” he asked.

“In the South Tower, at my father’s office.”

“Hey,” Sam called out, “you people hearing this? This kid was in the South Tower yesterday.”

Now it wasn’t just a feeling; everybody
was
looking at me. The first man came back with the two coffees and put them down in front of me. I offered him a five-dollar bill.

“Put your money away,” Sam said.

“No, it’s okay, I can—”

“Your money is no good here. What floor, kid … what floor is—was—your father’s office?”

“Eighty- five.”

“Isn’t that above where the plane crashed?” he asked.

Before I could say anything, half a dozen people told him it was.

“Wow … you are one lucky kid.”

“If I was lucky I wouldn’t have been there to begin with.”

“I mean you were lucky because you got out
before
the plane hit. That was really lucky.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “We didn’t leave his floor until the plane crashed.”

“What?”

I really didn’t want to talk about any of this. Not here, not now, not to him, and not to this audience of strangers.

“Are you telling me that you got down through those floors where the plane crashed?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“
Nobody
got through those floors.”

“Most of the people we saw did go up, but we didn’t … We went down.”

“Yeah, right,” he said, and chuckled. “Look, kid, if you’re going to make something up you should try—”

“I’m not making anything up!” I exclaimed. “I was there, in that building! And maybe it was luck or maybe it was something else, but I was there and now I’m here! And I don’t want your free coffee!”

I threw the five- dollar bill at him, grabbed the coffees, and stomped out of the store, the coffees sloshing over the tops of the cups as I moved up the street.

James wasn’t sitting on the bench. I skidded to a stop. Where had he gone now? I looked up and down the street. He was nowhere to be seen. I started to slowly walk and—

“Will!”

I turned. He was in an alley, leaning against a wall. I walked over and gave him his coffee.

“I saw somebody I knew coming,” James said. “I just don’t want to talk to anybody.”

“I can understand that,” I said. I was wishing I hadn’t said anything to those jerks behind the counter.

“And I can’t sit still,” he said. “It feels like this isn’t the right place to be. That I shouldn’t be
here
.”

“We don’t have to be here. We can go any place you want,” I offered.

“It doesn’t matter. Wherever I am, I think I’ll still feel the same way. It’s … it’s … I can’t explain it.”

I couldn’t find the words to tell him that I thought I understood what he meant, but I did. It was sort of like being lost and not knowing the way out.

He started walking and I fell in beside him. We moved along the alley. It was probably a better place to be if we wanted to avoid meeting anybody. It was just us and the Dumpsters, garbage cans, and parked cars.

We walked past an open door, the back entrance to a store, probably leading into the storage room. Blaring out I could hear more reporting from a CNN announcer. James stopped walking and listened. I couldn’t make out all the words, but I knew what he’d be talking about. There was no escaping it.

He turned to me. “How much money do you have on you?”

“I don’t know. Thirty, maybe forty bucks.”

“Can I have it?”

“Sure, of course you can … Why do you want the money?” I suddenly had thoughts of him taking off, running away.

“I know where I have to go.”

“Where?”

“You won’t understand.”

“Where do you need to go?” I asked again.

He shook his head.

“I can go with you.”

Again he shook his head.

“Look, I need you to tell me.”

“Are you going to give me the money or not?” he asked.

I pulled out my wallet, and without even counting, took out what I had and handed it to him. It looked like about forty bucks.

“I’m going down to the city.”

“To New York?” I exclaimed.

“Not just to New York. I’m going to Ground Zero.”

“You can’t do that!”

“I have to.”

“Your mother won’t let you,” I said.

“I’m not going to tell her.”

“But the city is practically closed down. Trains and subways are hardly running and—”

“I’ll walk if I have to.”

“James, even if you did get down to Manhattan, the whole area around Ground Zero is barricaded and restricted. They won’t let you get near it.” That was part of what I’d heard on the news.

“I’ll worry about that when I get there. I have to try.”

He suddenly started crying. I wrapped my arms around him, and he sobbed into my chest.

“I have to go … I have to go to where my father is … I have to.”

“I know,” I said. “I understand. But I can’t let you go—”

He struggled free of my grip. “You can’t stop me!” he said, a burst of anger driving away the tears.

“I’m not going to stop you,” I said. “I was going to say I can’t let you go
alone
. I’m going with you.”

“Yeah, I thought I should just check in,” I said into my phone as I walked along the platform of the station.

“You know how much I appreciate that,” my mother answered.

“No problem. We just got a coffee, and we’re walking and talking.”

“James probably has a lot of things he wants to talk about,” she said.

“For sure. I think we’re just going to walk around, maybe go to somebody’s house. I’ll check in when I can. But if it’s a bad time—you know, if James is talking to me about something—then I might not
be able to call right then, or pick up if you call me.” I was giving myself a little wiggle room in case I couldn’t call because of where we were or what we were doing.

“You know you can never call too often,” she said.

“I know, I know, and you’ll hear from me.”

“Thanks. That’s so important. Especially now.”

“Sure. Of course. How’s Dad doing?”

“He seems a little sad, but he’s—”

“I meant about finding people. Has he found more people from his office?”

“A few more. That helps a lot.”

“And did they find an office?”

“Yes. Suzie’s going out this afternoon to sign the lease. Your father would have gone with her, but he’s waiting for the CNN reporters … Oh, you don’t know about that, do you?”

“No.”

“Suzie thought that if your father went on CNN, then he could ask the people they haven’t been able to find to contact him. So she called CNN, and they wanted to talk to him anyway, so they’re sending out a team. They said that they’d really like you to be part of that interview, too.”

“I think I’ll pass.” Actually, I was more than fine with not being a part of that. “I don’t know when I’ll be home … you know … because of James. But even if I was there I don’t really want to be interviewed.”

“Your father really doesn’t want to either, but Suzie’s idea makes sense, and—”

“I have to go.” I could now see the blazing white light of the train coming down the tracks.

“Just make sure you keep checking in … What is that sound?” She could obviously hear the train coming, and it was getting louder and louder.

For a split second I thought about trying to make something up, but then I decided I’d try to be honest for as long as I could.

“It’s a train,” I said. “We’re by the train station. I’ve really got to go. Bye, I love you.”

I hung up the phone before she could say anything else.

The train squealed into the station, and James suddenly appeared at my side. When the train doors huffed open we climbed in and took the first set of seats. It wasn’t like we were going to have to fight for them. There were only a few other people on the whole car.

“Any problems with your mom?” I asked James. He’d been calling home at the same time I was.

“Nothing. She just wanted to make sure she could get hold of me. I told her my phone was on if she needed to call. What did you tell your parents?”

“It was my mom. I just told her that I was with you and we were walking around.”

“That’s not a complete lie. We will be walking, as soon as we get off the train.”

The train started to move, and I felt a shiver go up my spine. I knew that going to the city was wrong, but I knew it would be even more wrong to let James go
by himself. There was no sense in even thinking about it now, though—we were on the train and heading downtown. Well, I could always get off at the next station if I really wanted … No, I couldn’t do that. We’d go downtown, find out that we couldn’t get anywhere close to Ground Zero, and then we’d head back. And really, what was the difference between us walking around there and walking around here? Not that my mother was likely to see it that way.