In the Unlikely Event (18 page)

This time Christina did slam down the receiver. The palm of her right hand was bleeding from digging her fingernails so deeply into it. She hated Athena!

She ran into the small, narrow lab where Daisy kept a row of white plaster-of-Paris figurines lined up on a shelf, each one a foot high, waiting for Dr. O to smash if he felt a temper coming on. Christina had witnessed his fury just once and it had scared her. How could this kind and generous man have such inner rage? What set him off? She only knew it never happened when there were patients in the office. She only knew that smashing one of the plaster-of-Paris figurines made him feel better. After, Daisy would sweep up the remains and Dr. O would carry on as if nothing had happened.

Now, as the rage boiled up inside of her, Christina grabbed one of those figurines and smashed it. She thought she would feel better, but she didn't. She slumped to the floor, her eyes closed against the headache coming on. She sat there, surrounded by the remains of Dopey, or whichever one of the Seven Dwarfs she'd smashed, until the phone rang. She went back to Daisy's desk and picked it up, praying it wasn't Athena again, or worse, her mother. “Good afternoon, Dr. Osner's office,” she said, trying to sound professional.

“Is this Daisy?”

“No, it's Christina.”

“Oh, Christina. This is Mrs. Jones. Someone called earlier to cancel our appointment.”

Mrs. Jones's voice went very low and soft as if she were about to share a secret. “I was wondering if you happen to know if the pilot was Mrs. Barnes's son?”

Mrs. Barnes's son? Mrs. Barnes, who she'd met once, when Daisy sent her to the Osners' house with a package? Mrs. Barnes's son was in that flaming wreck?

“Christina? Are you there?”

“Yes, I'm still here.” Her voice sounded small and unsure of itself. She cleared her throat several times.

“I'm asking because I know Mrs. Barnes from working at the Osners',” Mrs. Jones said, “and if…well, I'd like to be there.”

Christina was barely able to hold herself together. She rolled out a piece of Scotch tape and stuck it to her arm as if that would help. “I'll call if I hear anything.”

She went back to the lab, picked up the broom, swept up the mess and washed off the floor. She felt overwhelmingly tired, as if she hadn't slept for days. She felt if she didn't lie down immediately she would keel over.

She lay down on the sofa in the waiting room, where she smelled something terrible, something burned or burning. What was it? She sniffed her arms, a handful of her hair. It was coming from her, her hair, her skin, the clothes she wore under the white lab coat. All of her smelled terrible. Maybe she would always smell that way, a reminder of what she'd seen. She could wash and wash and still it would be there. Christina Demetrious, the girl who smelled like fire and smoke, and death. She closed her eyes.

An hour went by, maybe two, then there was a knock on the office door. Daisy had instructed Christina to keep the door locked when she was alone in the office. “Who is it?” she asked.

“Christina? Christina, are you okay?”

She opened the door and fell into Jack's arms.

Miri

Miri was relieved when Dr. O and Daisy rushed into the house. Mrs. Barnes was still on the floor covered by the quilt. She still hadn't said a word. Dr. O bent down to check her pulse. As he did, he glanced toward the basement door, and for the first time Miri was aware of the music coming from downstairs.

“Is it true?” Mrs. Barnes asked Dr. O.

He answered, “Yes. I'm so sorry.”

Mrs. Barnes nodded.

Dr. O helped Mrs. Barnes to her feet and led her to a chair at the kitchen table. Daisy brought her a glass of water and handed her a pill. But Mrs. Barnes's hands were shaking so badly Daisy had to put the pill into Mrs. Barnes's mouth, then hold the water glass to her lips. Mrs. Barnes swallowed without asking what it was.

“Is there anyone I can call for you?” Daisy asked.

“My other son, Charles. He'll call my daughter,” Mrs. Barnes said. “She lives in Pennsylvania.”

She has another son, Miri thought. A son and a daughter. That's good, isn't it? Suppose Tim was her only child? How many times had Rusty reminded Miri,
You're my only child. You're my life. So when it comes to doing stupid things, don't. Because I couldn't stand it if I lost you. Do you understand?
Now Miri thought she understood. There was a burden to being the only child.

“Daisy, will you try to find Corinne?” Dr. O asked, handing her an appointment book with a needlepoint cover. “I'm going to take Mrs. Barnes home.” He draped a coat around Mrs. Barnes's shoulders and led her to the kitchen door.

Fern clung to Mrs. Barnes's leg. “I want to come with you.”

“You stay here with Daisy until Mommy comes home,” Dr. O said.

“No, I want to come with Barnesy!”

Mrs. Barnes looked down at Fern, as if for the first time. “You'll be fine, Fern Ella.”

Fern didn't argue. She let go of Mrs. Barnes's leg. When Daisy asked if she'd like to hear a story, Fern choose
Madeline
from her bookshelf. “Madeline is brave,” she told Daisy.

Daisy asked Miri to do something about the volume of the music coming from the finished basement. Miri opened the door and crept down the stairs, afraid of what she might find. “Nat…Natalie,” she called softly. The only light was coming from the jukebox, the volume pumped way up. It took a minute for her eyes to adjust, for her to see Natalie crouched on the floor in the corner, rocking back and forth, mumbling to herself, like an old man davening on the High Holidays.

When Miri snapped on the overhead lights, Natalie covered her eyes. “Don't.” But Miri left the lights on and pulled the plug on the jukebox. Now it was completely quiet. Eerily quiet.

“Come on, Nat,” Miri said, grabbing her by both arms.

Natalie resisted. “I'm too tired.”

“We're all tired.” Miri hadn't realized how true that was until that minute. She felt heavy, as if she could sleep for a week.

Finally, Natalie stood. Miri practically pushed her up the stairs. In the kitchen, Natalie spied her quilt and pillow on the floor. She grabbed them and ran up to her bedroom, where she threw herself onto her bed, and held the pillow over her head.

Miri followed.

“They're out to get us,” Natalie said, from under the pillow. “It's only a matter of time. Ruby says there's nothing we can do to stop them.”

“What are you talking about? Who's out to get us?”

“I'm trying to tell you but you're not listening.”

Miri lifted the pillow off Natalie's head so she could see her face, hear her words more clearly. “I am listening but you're not making any sense.”

“You think any of this makes sense? Mrs. Barnes's son, and Phil's cousin, the one coming home from Syracuse. She was here New Year's Eve. Remember? Kathy Stein. She wore a green velvet dress. My brother kissed her.”

“What about her?”

“She was on that plane.”

“How do you know?”

“Ruby told me.”

“No she didn't.”

“You'll see.”

Miri thought about shaking Natalie. Shaking and shaking until Ruby came tumbling out headfirst, her dark hair spilling toward the floor, her blue eyes outlined in black, her lips painted bright red to match her short red dress and at last her shiny black tap shoes. But despite all the color Ruby would still look dead because that's what
she was—dead. She wanted to shake Natalie until she was the old Nat, the one Miri became best friends with in seventh grade.

When Miri didn't respond Natalie asked, “You think I'm crazy?”

“Are you?”

“Maybe,” Natalie said. “I just want to stop seeing Phil's cousin dead, and Mrs. Barnes's son in his captain's uniform, all broken and burned.”

“Stop it,” Miri said softly. “Just stop it.”

“You'll see,” Natalie said. Then she closed her eyes and hid under the quilt.

IN THE KITCHEN
, Daisy forked whatever was browning in the pan, put it on a plate, covered it with wax paper and slid it into the fridge. She tapped Ajax into the pan and started scrubbing, as Fern sang,
“Use Ajax, boom boom, the foaming cleanser, boom boom boom boom boom…”

Miri said, “I have to go home. My grandmother will be worrying.” She grabbed her coat and her books.

“Thank you for helping,” Daisy said.

As she was leaving Steve opened the kitchen door and pushed past her. “Where's Mom?” he asked Daisy.

“She's on her way home,” Daisy told him.

“She was playing mah-jongg at Ceil Rubin's house,” Fern said. “They didn't have the radio on so they didn't know what happened.” Fern looked at Daisy. “Right?”

Daisy nodded.

“What about Dad?” Steve asked.

“He took Mrs. Barnes home,” Daisy said.

“Her son was the pilot of the plane that crashed,” Fern added, hugging Roy Rabbit to her chest.

“Shut up about planes crashing,” Steve shouted. “Just shut up!”

Daisy touched Steve's shoulder.

He flinched. “Don't!”

Miri asked, “Was Phil's cousin on that plane?”

Steve shot her a look. “How did you know?”

“Natalie told me.”

“How did
she
know?”

Miri shrugged, pushed past Steve out the kitchen door and trudged up the hill to the bus stop. When the bus pulled up, Miri boarded and took a seat, forgetting to pay. The driver didn't say anything. Miri was thinking that just a little while ago she and Natalie were munching grapes in the den, waiting for Kate Smith to come on singing “God Bless America.” Miri hoped if there was a god, and she was less sure about that every day, he would bless America and especially Elizabeth, New Jersey, and that he had the power to stop this thing that was happening.

SUZANNE
, in her yellow rain slicker and white rubber boots, was waiting on the front steps of Miri's house, a polka-dot umbrella opened over her head though it was hardly raining by the time Miri got home. “Where were you?” Suzanne asked.

“At Natalie's.”

“Did you hear?”

“Yes, it's horrible.”

“I know, but at least they say Betsy is still alive and so is Mrs. Foster. They're both at Saint Elizabeth's. My mother's on duty this afternoon.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The crash. It hit the apartment building next to the Fosters' and set their house on fire. Penny…she didn't get out. Mrs. Foster tried, but the fire…”

Miri slumped to the porch steps, her hand over her mouth. She tasted bile coming up.

“Mother of god…you didn't know?”

Miri shook her head. It wasn't possible. It had to be a mistake. But even as she thought it, wished it, she knew it was true.

“
BAD THINGS HAPPEN
in threes,” Irene said that night, doling out homemade vegetable soup and passing around warm bread—not that anyone was hungry, but Irene knew how to tempt them.

“Stop it, Mama,” Rusty said. “You're scaring Miri.”

“Darling,” Irene said to Miri, “am I scaring you?”

“No!” Miri said defiantly. But she'd never get Irene's superstitions out of her head.

Later Suzanne came by again, to go with Miri to the site of the crash, even though Rusty objected. “There's no reason in hell for you to go there. You've seen one plane crash. Why do you have to see another?”

“Because the Fosters lived in that house,” Miri argued. “Because a week ago we were babysitting Betsy and Penny and now Penny is dead and Betsy is burned.” Her voice caught, thinking of how Penny always folded her little eyeglasses and placed them on her bedside table before she went to sleep. And Betsy's tiny pink toenails, newly polished, making her toes look like little shrimp. Maybe Mrs. Foster knew to worry. Maybe she'd had a sixth sense about an impending disaster. She'd heard mothers know these things instinctively.

“There's nothing to see,” Rusty told them. “Just rubble and burned buildings.”

“We have to go,” Suzanne said.

Rusty pursed her lips, closed her eyes, took a deep breath and reconsidered. “Just don't be too long. I want a promise on that.”

“Okay,” Miri said.

“Be back before eight o'clock.”

Suzanne said, “I promised my mother the same.”

Rusty nodded. “And take an umbrella.”

A CHILL WIND SWEPT
the open corner of South and Williamson streets. At the site, floodlights, combined with the fog and the light rain, sent up an eerie glow. Miri and Suzanne stood close. There was nothing to say. Nothing that would make sense of this.

On the ground floor of the Fosters' house there used to be a candy store, popular with the St. Mary's kids. Now there was a burned-out
shell with no roof, and piles of rubble. There was no sign that it was hit by a plane. It could have been any kind of explosion. Except for the piece of the tail. Not that Miri could see it, but everyone said it was there. Somewhere.

“They say she had to choose between her children,” a woman said to her companion. “She couldn't save them both. Can you imagine?” Was she talking about Mrs. Foster or someone else? Miri didn't want to think of Mrs. Foster trying to decide—
eeny, meeny, miney, moe…

Suddenly Mason was behind her, his hands on her shoulders. “Hey…”

She whipped around. She'd thought he was at work.

“I have a friend who lived in that house,” he said quietly. “The one that's gone now.”

Miri and Suzanne both looked at him.

“Polina,” he said. “She works at Janet. She has a little boy. Sometimes she kept Fred overnight.”