You Told Me
It was such
a beautiful day, especially for early September. I had just woken up to the sound of birds
making a lot of noise over the bread left over from last night’s dinner. My wife, Valerie, or me will habitually shred
it up and throw it into the backyard for my little buddies to munch on. I stretched my body, which was stiff from
sleeping on the couch, trying to remember why I fell asleep there, or when for
that matter. I couldn’t remember. Shrugging, I walked over to the French dining
room doors and peeked at the birds bouncing their way around the bread. I watched them with a growing smile on my
face and went into the kitchen. Coffee! The pot was always ready to go, but not
today. I hate having to setup coffee in
the morning, which is why Val or I will usually set it up the night
before. Shaking my head, I cleaned it up
quick, filled everything, and turned the pot on. I washed my face in the kitchen sink. The cold water woke me up real quick. Problem is that the sound of all that running
water in the morning made me want to go to the bathroom. I took care of that bit of business in the
downstairs bath and came back into the kitchen hoping the sound of the toilet
flushing didn’t wake any of the girls. I
smiled at the fact that I was surrounded by women; my wife, our two little
girls, their nanny, Gina, hell, even our cat was female.
The smell of the brewing coffee was
outrageous. I was tempted to stand there
and watch it perk, but I knew that would get me nowhere. I made my way into the dinette area, which
was a step down off our kitchen.
This is a
great room with hard wood floors, eight-foot skylights in the ceiling, and a
huge ten-foot bay window. The sunlight
that fills this room is astoundingly beautiful.
It’s where I play my classical guitar; Bach in the morning is what I
call it lately. I set up my music stand
and foot stool, pulled out the music for Bach’s Cello Suite #1 that I was
working on, lit a cigarette and sat down to play after grabbing my guitar. A few minutes warm-up and the coffee would be
ready. Outside, the birds were having a
good time fighting over the bread.
I felt
soreness in my left elbow after a minute of warm-up exercises and remembered
the car accident. That’s why I was
asleep on the couch. We had gotten home
somewhere around
I played
through the beautiful Prelude fairly well and turned the pages of music to the
Allemande section of the Suite when I noticed Valerie watching me from the
other side of the kitchen. She looked
pretty much like she did yesterday, jeans and a white blouse and her long,
blond hair was down. Lord, she looked
good. She always tells me that I say
that only because I love her so much, but, honestly, she looks good. She had her arms folded across her chest, her
head cocked slightly to one side, with this sad, moist look in her eyes. She looked like an angel. I asked her what’s up and she said that what
I had just played was beautiful. I could
never remember my playing moving her to tears.
A bit embarrassed, I turned away and went back to playing the music,
albeit a little distracted.
She asked me
if I felt like breakfast when I finished the Allemande. I said no, I wasn’t hungry. She looked oddly at me. I asked her what was wrong, why are you
looking at me funny. She shook me off,
and said that it was nothing; she just thought I would be hungry. I asked her about the girls. She quietly said they were fine, sleeping
peacefully. They were no trouble last
night. Gina took care of them in the
evening, letting me sleep. I said
something about sleeping fourteen hours and she replied that I needed it. I nodded and kept playing, moving onto the
Courante section of the suite. I was
feeling pretty good at this point and my fingers were making the guitar
sing. I was playing flawlessly. I turned the page to the Sarabande
section. She asked me about my arm
before I got into the third movement. I
told her it hurt like a bitch, but I’ll get over it. She nodded and got this far away look in her
eye. I could swear there were tears
again, but she turned to the oven and I couldn’t see her face.
I thought
back to the accident and remembered looking at my wife, who was in the
passenger side, to see if she was okay.
She nodded at me and touched my face with tears in her eyes. I knew she was upset; we had owned the car
for less than a month. I couldn’t open
my door so I asked her to get out. I
started to climb over the center console when I felt the bruise on my arm, near
the elbow. I compensated for the pain by
using my right hand to support myself and slipped, cursing with the shooting
pain in my left arm. I finally made my
way out of the car and checked Val again.
She was sitting back down in her seat with her hands cupped over her
nose and mouth. She looked okay so I went
over to the other car to have a talk with Maria Andretti. Well wouldn’t you know it, this old lady is
screaming hysterical about her car and what her husband was going to do to her
when he heard about this. Her hair was
pulled into a tight bun, making her look very severe, except that her hair, and
really all of her, was covered in that white stuff from the Caddy’s
airbag. I think she had way too much
makeup on, not being able to really tell, and thought, ‘ooh, that’s gonna hide
the fact that she was short, fat and ugly’.
I couldn’t help it; I started laughing.
Valerie came up behind me and told me to cut it out. I asked the woman if she was all right, but
she looks at our car with her eyes wide open and starts in all over again,
screaming like someone crucified her.
She didn’t take notice of me except to grab my arm to hold herself
up. I told Val to take care of it. I walked back to our car and checked out the
damage to our little Nissan while they worked it out. The car was definitely in a bad way. I figured the insurance adjuster was going to
total it or at least seventy-five percent of it. I pulled my cell phone out of my belt clip,
noticing the blood trail on my left arm and on my right hand. Totally pissed, I tried to open my car door
to get some napkins and remembered it was jammed. I said screw it and called the police. They asked me a few questions concerning
towing, was anyone injured, ambulance, and all of that. I just said yes, yes, and yes and they said a
car would be there in two minutes. I
asked them to send a cab and they said they would drive us back to our
house. I thanked them and closed my
eyes. My arm was hurting and my head was
starting to get a bit shaky. I actually
felt the need to puke, but resisted. I
didn’t want to go to the hospital; I hate the friggin’ places. I heard the woman talking, screaming, Val
trying to talk to her, thought ‘whatever’ to myself, and leaned up against our
now-damaged new car to get my head together.
With my eyes closed, I thought of the music I was working on trying to
get the bad feeling out of my system. I
could hear the birds singing and chirping in the surrounding treetops. It was actually kind of nice except for that
screaming mess of a woman.
The sound of
the birds in my backyard brought me back to this morning. Oh yeah, coffee. I asked Val to get me another cup but she
wasn’t there. I stepped up into the
kitchen and re-filled my cup. I saw her
cup on the counter where I had left it.
I was going to fill it again, when I realized she hadn’t touched it
yet. I looked up for her and saw her in
the backyard through the kitchen window, watching the birds. They were dancing around just beyond her,
grabbing at the breadcrumbs. I smiled
and left my coffee cup on the counter by the dinette side of the kitchen. I had the cello music in my head and I
absent-mindedly forgot the cup. I picked
up my guitar and sat down to play, only then realizing I had left the cup on
the counter, I got up to get it and Val walked back into the kitchen
again. She asked me about my
headache. I told her it wasn’t there
anymore, thank God. My head was really
killing me last night. She had told me
that concussion headaches are usually very painful, even minor ones, and that I
was real lucky I wasn’t in worse shape.
I reached for the cup on the counter and she touched my hand. I love it when she touches me. It reminds me of one of the reasons why I
married her. When we were younger, she
would get this devilish look in her eye and lightly touch the top of my
hand. Looking up at her, I’d see that
glint in her eye and knew it was time for some serious nakedness.
I was
surprised to feel that same touch now. I
looked up at her, but I didn’t see that glint.
I saw tears and was thoroughly confused.
Don’t get me wrong; I didn’t really think she was hungry for me, not at
I was
lost. “So what is it”? She asked me if I felt her hand.
I blinked,
saying, “Of course I do”. I was getting
frightened. She’s usually very composed
and this type of behavior was not her norm.
She said
that wasn’t possible.
“What isn’t
possible”?
“That you
can feel my hand”.
“What”?
“You can’t
feel my hand”.
"Why?"
“Because I’m
dead”.
It’s really
difficult to confuse me, except maybe at 8:30 in the morning with only one cup
of coffee in me, but there I was with this Homer Simpson look on my face
and that voice going in my head saying,
‘Did she just say she was dead, uhuh,
that’s what she said, she’s dead, why would she say that, I think she’s gone
bonkers, what does she mean, dead, anyway, what does dead mean, does it mean
dead, like in you’re a goner, nevermore, see ya bye, or does she mean inside, emotionally,
like I’m dead to the world’.
My internal discussion having ended, I looked
at her and blinked. She gave me that
same look had given me in the car yesterday and touched my face.
I said,
“You’re not dead, sweetheart, I can feel that.
Jesus, honey, come on now, why are you trying to scare me.
She said,
‘I’m not trying to scare you. In fact
I’m the one who’s scared’. She said she
didn’t truly understand what was going on.
She was frightened for me, for the children, what were we going to do,
who was going to care for the children when she wasn’t here. Now I’m thinking her mortality is staring her
straight in the face as the result of our accident yesterday. I joked with her, “Honey, do we need to go
and visit a psychiatrist”?
She said, as
serious as a heart attack, “No, but you might need one”. I blinked again. She said I had to let go, that I needed to
grieve. I blinked some more. She was serious. I reached for the address book, thinking that
I needed to call a doctor or someone. I
wasn’t prepared to deal with this kind of emotional distress. She stopped my hand and shook her head no,
not for her, me. I needed help. Looking up at her, I could see the pores in
her face, the tears in her eyes, hell, this woman was touching me, and I felt
it.
I said,
“Honey, if you’re dead, how do I feel you?" She said she didn’t know; she really wasn’t
sure. Maybe I wanted to feel her; maybe
I didn’t realize that she was dead and that made it possible for me to see
her. She said something about my
precognitive abilities, how they were always strong, very strong when there was
a hyped-up sense of emergency. Maybe
that’s what was going on coupled with everything else. She asked me to think back to the
accident. I was already going there,
only kind of paying attention to her. I
had one of those distant looks on my face, and I thought back to
yesterday.
She asked me
about getting out of her side of the car and asking her to get out. I nodded absent-mindedly and tried to
remember. She told me that she heard me
asking her to get out and how she saw me climbing over her. She said that my right hand had slipped on
the center console. It was from the
blood coming out of my nose and mouth. I
shook my head no. She said she watched
me looking back at her.
“I thought
you sat back down”, I said, trying my hardest to remember.
“No,
sweetheart, I was standing right next to you.
I was so worried that you were going to fall apart. I wanted to catch you in case you fell down”.
I said, “But
you talked to the woman”.
She replied,
“Yes I know. She couldn’t see me next to
her, only in the car, but when she heard me, she completely lost it. I tried my best to calm her, but she just
kept going on, repeating, “She’s dead”.
“Funny, I
thought it was just me she couldn’t see”, I said.
She gave me
one of those quick laughs of hers, and continued, ‘I watched you talk on the
phone for a few minutes and then you leaned up against the car and closed your
eyes. I thought you might have figured
it out by that time and waited, but nothing happened. You just stood there, your body swaying
rhythmically and I could tell you were hearing music. I have no idea how you heard anything over
that poor woman screaming. Then the
police arrived and she really went crazy, screaming and pulling at one of the
officers”.
I nodded,
saying, “That’s right, she kept saying she was dead, she was dead. She had said something about her husband
murdering her when he found out about this, and naturally assumed that’s what
she was talking about”.
“You don’t
remember the cops asking you about me”?
“Of course I do.
The problem was that you were there, right in front of me. I told them that you were fine, why don’t you
ask her yourself.”
“Do you remember the looks that passed between the two
officers?”
“Yeah I do, but I didn’t understand what their
freakin’ problem was and shook them off”.
“How about the ambulance? Do you remember”?
“I figured they were there for protocol’s sake; check
everybody out, whatever it is that they do.
It was either that or they were going to cart that crazy broad off to
the loony bin”.
“The
“That’s right; I remember smiling at the nice
lady. She was very gentle, almost too
nice, now that I think about it. No
wonder, huh. I answered some questions
and allowed her to lead me around to the other side of the ambulance. I never really looked back at the car at any
time. When they finished, our car was
gone, and the police car was waiting.
The
“Yes, I did”.
“The cops knew where to go and we were home in ten
minutes”.
“The cops asked you how you felt”.
“I told them we were fine and that I just wanted to go
inside. I thanked them for the ride, but
they waited in the driveway until we got inside. I remember that you looked at me at the front
door and asked me how I felt. I told you
I felt good, except for my head and my left elbow. It wasn’t a big deal, I just wanted to get
inside, have some water or coffee, and sit down. You said okay, and we went in.”
“What about
when we got inside”?
“I got some
water, saw that it was just before
“Do you
remember seeing me”?
“Not
really. I was so goddamned tired. I thought I said something to you, when I got
onto the couch. That’s right, I asked
you how you felt. You said you were
dead. I said me too and promptly
crashed”.
She was
giggling.
“You see, I
mean, how are we even having this conversation if you’re dead? And you’re laughing. At me.
I’m pretty sure dead people don’t laugh, honey”.
“Yes, we
do. We do a lot of things, darling. Mostly though, we miss you, the people
closest to us. I stayed with you for a
while and then went upstairs to see the girls.
They were both taking their afternoon naps, so I had the chance to watch
them peacefully. God they’re so beautiful. Tell me you’ll watch after them. And tell them good things about their
mommy”. She started to cry.
My own eyes
started tearing. Everything behind me
was coming clearly. Val in the seat; me
having trouble climbing over her; the look on the lady’s face; the cop’s looks;
the way the EMS lady talked to me. My
god, everything was flooding into me.
My body started to tremble, slowly at first
and then violently. I couldn’t hold on
any longer. I sat down. Actually, I fell into my chair. I looked up at her. You could see the love. You could feel it. I desperately didn’t want to believe
this.
“Honey,
you’re still here. It doesn’t matter to
me. I can see you, feel you, hear
you. You stay with me, with us”. She shook her head no. “Val, you fucking stay with me”, I yelled as
loudly as I could.
The birds in
the backyard were making a racket. They
suddenly quieted and flew as a group in a large circle. The window in the dinette was so bright,
shining on her. Only then could I see
the transparency of everything. I was
looking right through her. My mind
screamed my anguish, which finally came through my mouth. She came to me and touched my cheek. Her own sorrow was evident on her face. I reached up and touched the wetness through
my sobs. I put it to my lips, tasting
the last of my wife. She whispered, “I
wish I stayed home”. She was gone.
I sat there,
hands coming to my face, my tears slowly dripping into my mouth, mixing with
the taste of hers. I was so lost in my
own misery I didn’t notice my older daughter come into the kitchen until she
said hi. She had her teddy with
her. She was holding it up to her face,
peering out over the top of its head at me.
I looked up at her and tried to smile, because that’s what she does to
me. She said, ‘dada’, and got all
excited as she always does when I notice her.
I took her up into my arms and looked up at Gina, who was holding our
newborn. Gina gave me this unbelievably
sad look when our eyes met. I told her
it was all right, everything was going to be fine. She asked me how I felt and I told her the
truth. The baby started crying, which
could only mean bottle-time. Gina threw
one into the microwave, looking at me real weird the whole time.
I asked her,
“What, you’re going to start in with me too?"
She replied,
“You know, I heard you talking to someone, and I couldn’t help but think it was
your wife. Are you sure you’re
alright”?
I said,
“Yeah, I had some unfinished business with Val; that I didn’t really understand
what had happened yesterday, she had straightened me out, as usual, and now I’m
just as tired as I was yesterday when I got home”.
I put Dhiana
down and sat down myself. Gina said
something about being here for the children to which I responded thank god for
that. She looked at me funny and asked
me what I meant about Valerie straightening me out. Without thinking, I told her the general gist
of the conversation that I had with my wife this morning. Gina simply stared at me, all sorts of blank
looking.
“What”?
“You spoke
to your wife this morning”?
“Yeah,
that’s what I said”.
“Okay”? She paused for a second. “I didn’t hear the phone. Did you call her”? She didn’t seem to register what I had said.
“What the
hell does that mean? Of course I didn’t
call her. Look, Gina, I realize this
sounds weird but it’s true. I mean at
least to me. I mean I’m sure I spoke to
her. I guess, I mean, oh hell, I don’t
know. All I know is that we talked and
now I know what really happened”.
“What really
happened”?
“You don’t know”?
“No, well, I
mean to say, I think I do, but you’re sounding like something bad
happened.”
“Gina, you
have to know. We were in an accident
yesterday when we were coming home”.
“You mean
when you were coming home”.
I looked at
her for a moment. “What do you mean”?
“You were
coming home. You dropped Valerie off at
the airport and were on your way home when you had the accident. I know because the police called me. Rich, your wife wasn’t with you. Everything’s fine except for the bump on your
head. Your wife’s okay and so are you”.
‘I wish I
stayed home’ was ringing in my ears.
I stared at
her for a second, or twenty, and almost ran over my oldest daughter trying to
get back to the living room. I turned on
the TV. CNBC was running some kind of
weird commercial that had a building on fire.
I changed over to Bloomberg to read the headlines. Their signal was out, the TV showing white
noise. Exasperated, I threw CNN on and
there it was. The plane, an American jetliner, flight number 11, out of
Gina nodded
her head, “Yes. Why, you mean Valerie
was on that plane”?
“No, she
wasn’t.” Before I could finish my
thought, Tower Two’s left side exploded.
I’m pretty sure the reporter, or someone close to the reporter said,
‘Holy shit’. Black smoke, a fireball and
debris falling out of the building was clearly visible. My heart sank. It was another plane, that’s what one of the
reporters was screaming. This time I was
sure Valerie was on that one. I fell to
my knees with the certainty of what I knew.
Dhiana jumped into my arms thinking I wanted to play. I grabbed hold of her as if it was the end of
the world. Through all of the emotions
that I was feeling, something was still nagging at me; and I couldn’t shake
it. Gina was crying with her hands up
over her nose and mouth, staring at the tragedy unfolding before the entire
world. All of my colleagues worked in
the second tower, friends and acquaintances that I’ve known for years worked in
either tower or around the complex. This
was crazy, simply ludicrous. And no
accident. The time was
“Gina, I
didn’t take off from work yesterday. I
would have been in the office on Monday.
I took Val to the airport on Sunday.
That was yesterday, right?”
“Yes, no,
wait, oh my god, you’re right. No, you
were supposed to take her on Sunday afternoon.
She was coming back home on Wednesday morning. From
Finally,
somebody was on board with me.
I gently pushed
Dhiana away from me and went to grab a cigarette. My nerves were shot to hell. Something was definitely off. Val told me she was dead and that it had
happened yesterday, if at all. I sat
down in the dinette and took a slow drag, trying to compose myself. Gina came into the kitchen and asking me how
I could take my eyes off the screen.
I said,
“Something’s wrong, Gina. I can’t put my
finger on it but something’s not right.
Val couldn’t be on that plane.
It’s not time”.
“It’s not
time! When the fuck is it time for
something like this? And what do you
mean Val couldn’t be on that plane? What plane? They said it was an American flight out of
“Rich, wake
up, wake up, Rich, it’s not alright, it’s your wife. She needs to talk to you. Come on, shit, it’s always a nightmare trying
to wake you. Rich!!!
My eyes
opened to Gina’s frustrated face. “Val’s
on the phone”?
“That’s what
I’ve been saying for two freakin’ minutes.
The girls are up and I’ve got a ton of things
to do. Use the phone in the
kitchen. I’ll hang up the one
upstairs. Come on, move it. Coffee’s ready”. She flew up the stairs, probably to stop
Dhiana from rearranging the dresser in their bedroom.
I stumbled
into the kitchen and grabbed at the phone.
“Hey, sleepy. Whatever happened to waking up at
“Val, what’s
today?”
“Uh, it’s
Tuesday. You know,
the one that comes after Monday”.
I let that
one slide. “What time is it? Are you supposed to be catching a flight
today”? I looked over at the microwave’s
clock, which said
“Silly man,
you know my itinerary. What’s the
matter? You don’t sound good”.
“What’s your
flight?”
“I don’t
know, United something or other. It leaves at
“Honey, I
need you to do me a favor”.
“What”.
“Shut up”.
“What did
you just say to me”?
“Shut
up. It’s the last time I’m going to say
it. Otherwise I’ll let you get on that
plane.”
“Is
something wrong with you? And what the
hell does ‘Otherwise I’ll let you get on that plane’ mean”?
“Hon, you
have to trust me. The meeting can
wait. In fact, it’s
going to be cancelled anyway, partly because of your plane. I’d rather it was
canceled and you weren’t on it. Listen,
I don’t give a flying fucking shit how crazy this sounds, do not get on that
plane. Do not. Don’t take any chances. Don’t shake me off,
do not ignore me. You call those people
in LA and tell them you’ll do it next week”.
“Darling,
did you have a bad dream”.
“Yes. And do not make fun
of me. This was one fucked up
dream. Look, don’t take any
chances. If I’m wrong, you stayed in
“Rich, we’ve
been looking to rid ourselves of that property and the time is now. I don’t know how well those buyers are going
to take to us postponing the closing.”
“Alright,
let me put it to you this way. Fuck them
and the mothers that bore them. I don’t
care. Hell, no one’s going to care”.
“What the
hell kind of a dream did you have”?
“Promise me,
just promise you will not get on that flight.
Promise on both of your daughter’s lives.”
“Rich, I’m
not going to …”
“You fucking
promise, you do it right now”!
There was a
bit of silence on the other end. I could
hear the cigarette being dragged on. Finally, “Fine, I promise on Dhiana’s and
Samantha’s lives that I will not get on that flight. Are you happy?”
“You’re
goddamned right I’m happy. Don’t I sound
it”? Another thought occurred to
me. “Val, don’t get on any plane, okay”?
“So, what,
you’d like for me to stay in
“Excellent
idea, get a car and leave now. You might
be through the
“I was
kidding about the car. Fine, do I at
least get to know what’s supposed to happen”?
I took a
deep breath. “A plane out of
Another moment of silence. “From
a dream. From a fucking
nightmare, you want me to drive for 4 hours and miss the closing in LA. This is nuts, Rich. Have you lost your fucking mind?”
“Yes, no,
maybe, who cares. You promised and
that’s all I need. Get your ass into a
car and come home. If I’m
right, the country is going to be closed for a while. No sense in fighting with me, just come
home”.
“Jesus freaking Christ. Fine, I’ll get a
car. I’ll be home around 11. See you later. Oh, since I’m coming home, be a doll and call
Michelle. Leave her a voice mail telling
her the bad news and let her figure it out.
I’ll see you later”. She hung up
the phone, violently I might add.
Michelle, our attorney, was going to be pissed, but nothing like
Val. I knew I was on the shit list for
at least the next two and half hours.
I poured
myself some coffee, went into the dinette, lit a cigarette, sat down, and
stared at my music. My guitar was
standing there waiting for me to pick it up.
I wasn’t in the mood. I stood
back up and walked over to the dinette window.
The birds were going nuts over the bread in the backyard. I smiled at their funny antics, which brought
me back to my dream. What an awful thing
to do to someone. Shaking my head, I
figured I was going to smoke a pack of cigarettes before my wife came
home. I thought I should call
someone. I figured they’d laugh at me at
first, and then do a full body cavity search, on me and my entire life,
afterwards, if in fact, this awful thing was about to happen. I put my cigarette out, lit another one,
sipped my coffee, and stared at the birds.
***
At
Richard F. Sayage