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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 |