In the Unlikely Event

by Judy Blume

  “Take deep breaths,” Ruby told her.

  But as soon as they took off, Ruby knew something was wrong.

  “Does it always feel like this?” her seatmate asked.

  Ruby didn’t tell her that, no, it didn’t feel like this. They were too low. They should be climbing. Why weren’t they climbing?

  “Can you hold the baby for a minute?” and she shoved the baby at Ruby. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  Ruby took the baby. He clutched her necklace, a golden strawberry on a thin chain, while his mother retched. The chain broke. So what?

  For seven horrible minutes, seven minutes that felt like hours, years, a whole lifetime, everything seemed to be in slow motion. Ruby heard only the thump of her own heart, not the screaming, not the wailing, not the two-hundred-pound wrestler seated behind her reciting the Lord’s Prayer.

  This is it? This is how it’s going to end? No, it has to be a mistake. Please, God, make it be a mistake. She held the baby close, feeling the warmth of his little body, kissing his soft cheek. He looked right into her eyes.

  Outside the window the wing broke away from the plane.

  Then they were falling…falling diagonally out of the sky.

  Henry

  As Henry and Todd came out of the Elks Club and started down the long flight of stairs to the street, they heard a roaring sound. “Jesus, is that what I think it is?” Todd asked, looking skyward. He opened his camera, framed the image, then clicked. Henry hoped he’d captured the plane trailing smoke, flames billowing back nearly to the tail, maybe one hundred feet above them and banking steeply to the left.

  “Your car or mine?” Todd shouted.

  “Mine. Let’s go!”

  Henry already knew this would be his first front-page story. He drove with his hand on the horn, following the path of the plane. “Get everything you can,” he told Todd, who had no experience but was the nephew of the managing editor. “Every detail. Don’t stop to think—just do it or you’ll miss your chance.” He was talking as much to himself as to Todd.

  Miri

  Outside the theater, the weather had grown even worse. Miri and Rusty locked arms and walked quickly with their heads down. Miri had never felt so cold, so weak from hunger. The candy bar at the movies was the only thing she’d had to eat today. A few more blocks and they’d be home. She could almost smell the leg of lamb rubbed with garlic and rosemary that would be waiting, with pan-roasted potatoes, mint jelly, and green beans, plus a wedge of iceberg lettuce with Russian dressing. Irene would have already frosted the birthday cake she’d baked for Rusty. Miri’s mouth was watering just thinking about it.

  At the corner of Westfield Avenue and Lowden Street a small child, one of the Bell kids, probably, was sledding in front of her house. There was a Bell in every grade. Miri knew at least four of them. Suddenly the child screamed and pointed to the sky. Miri and Rusty looked up to see a ball of fire rushing toward them. Miri could feel the heat from above as Rusty grabbed her, pulling her across the street. They ran as fast as they could but the fireball kept coming. They heard a deafening roar. Then a splintering crash, followed by two explosions only a second apart. They were knocked down by the force, Rusty covering Miri’s body with her own, trying to protect her.

  When Miri opened her eyes she saw feet, dozens of feet, and at first she was so disoriented she didn’t know where she was. She couldn’t hear anything. There was a ringing in her ears. From every direction people were running toward the flames that were shooting up, toward the thing that had crashed and was burning in the frozen bed of the Elizabeth River.

  Rusty helped Miri to her feet. “Go home and tell Nana we’re okay,” she shouted. “Hurry!” Rusty gave her a gentle shove. “Go, Miri!”

  She ran for home. Her feet were numb in her saddle shoes. Snot ran down her face and froze on her upper lip, on her chin, as she rounded the corner of Sayre Street and raced up the front steps. “Nana,” she called, bursting into the house. “Nana, where are you? Nana!” she shouted. “Nana!”

  She found her under the dining room table. “A bomb?” Irene asked.

  “No,” Miri told her. “Something crashed in the river. They say it’s a plane.”

  Irene clutched her chest. Miri grabbed her pills from the kitchen counter. Irene put one under her tongue. “Rusty?” she asked.

  “She’s okay.”

  “Thank god.”

  “I have to go back,” Miri said.

  “Over my dead body!” Irene told her.

  “Nana, please…I have to help!”

  Irene came out from under the table. “Not without me.” She pulled galoshes over her shoes. Miri helped her into her coat, all the time arguing, “It’s too cold for you, Nana.” Cold wasn’t good for Irene’s angina. But Irene wouldn’t listen. She wrapped a wool scarf over her mouth and nose so the wind wouldn’t take her breath away.

  Outside, Miri held her arm, afraid Irene would slip and fall on the snow that had turned to ice from Friday’s snowstorm. When they got to the crash site, Irene looked around and gave one cry. Her hand went to her heart. Miri shouldn’t have let her come. She was afraid to let go of Irene’s arm, afraid someone would knock her over. She didn’t see Rusty anywhere. But she recognized Rabbi Halberstadter standing with a couple of priests, all of them stomping their feet in the cold.

  And then Uncle Henry saw them and ordered Miri to take Irene home. “Now!” he barked, and Miri wasn’t about to argue with him.

  Henry

  He’d had to elbow his way through the crowd to where the plane lay on its back in the Elizabeth River, belly ripped open, rubble spilling into the frozen stream and onto the banks. The river was a mass of roaring flames shooting a hundred feet into the air and surrounding the mangled wreckage, one wing pointing straight up.

  Firemen, policemen and other rescue workers swarmed to the scene, armed with cutting torches, grappling hooks, blankets, stretchers and bags. A white-clad intern, stethoscope around his neck, went with them, but he didn’t stay long—just long enough to know he wasn’t needed.

  When they started separating the debris, a few bodies, or parts of them, became distinguishable. The bodies were brought out in bags and folded blankets. Workers formed a chain to hand up the remains.

  A woman who had somehow evaded police lines and tumbled through the snow too close to the carnage was sick and had to be helped away.

  As darkness gathered, floodlights were set up on either bank of the river. The cutting torches went deeper into the tail. More bodies were brought out.

  The plane just missed taking down the water company offices, where fifty employees worked during the week. Hamilton Junior High was only a block away. These details would make it into his story.

  Miri

  None of them was hungry that night but Irene insisted they eat something. She whipped up scrambled eggs and toast while Henry’s girlfriend, Leah, told them how close the plane had come to the Elks Club.

  “Henry had just left when we saw it. I ran out after him but he was already gone. So I went back inside and started playing the piano really loud. I played a march and told the children to pretend they were elephants. One of the volunteers pulled the velvet drapes closed so the children couldn’t see anything. We didn’t want to frighten them, so we just kept singing and playing games until their parents came to take them home. We heard the explosions but we pretended to be lions in the jungle, roaring. No one told the children to use their indoor voices. No one told them to settle down. For once they did whatever they wanted, making as much noise as they wanted. And all of them in their party clothes. All those patent-leather Mary Janes. Really, I didn’t know what I was doing. My friend, she went crazy. She saw it out the window and just slumped to the floor. One of the mothers had to take her to the ladies’ lounge to lie down. What could I do? I was responsible for all those children. One hundred children. It could have crashed into—”

  Rusty covered Leah’s hand with her own, like a big sister
. “But it didn’t and the children are fine, thanks to you and your quick thinking.”

  Until then Miri hadn’t thought about how close the plane had come to her school. Suppose it had been a weekday instead of a Sunday? Suppose the plane hadn’t made it to the frozen riverbed?

  Henry came home just long enough to drop a kiss on Leah’s cheek, scarf down some food and change into dry clothes. He must have gotten wet at the crash site. Miri could tell by the way he was walking that his leg hurt. He had a cane but Miri had never seen him use it. “I have to get back,” Henry said. “It’s the second worst air disaster in this country, the worst disaster since…” He looked around the table, shook his head and left.

  The worst disaster since what? Miri wondered.

  The doorbell rang as Miri was clearing the supper dishes. “I’ll get it,” she called, running to the front door. It was Natalie, with her mother and little sister. They stepped into the foyer. Natalie hugged her and gushed tears. “I was…we were…so worried. I couldn’t get through on the phone and I thought…I thought…you know…because you live so close…” She took in a big breath. “We were at The Tavern when we heard but we didn’t stay to finish. They wrapped our food and we took it with us because Daddy had to…had to…”

  Corinne finished for her. “Dr. Osner was called in to help identify the bodies.”

  Miri stiffened.

  Fern said, “Babies died.”

  “They say you could hear them crying,” Natalie added.

  “No,” Miri said. “I was there and you couldn’t hear anything.”

  “Oh, my gosh!” Natalie cried. “You were there?”

  “I was coming home from the movies with my mother. We saw it.”

  Corinne hugged Miri. “Oh, honey…” she said in her southern drawl. Miri teared up, wishing she could apologize for her fantasy. She’d feel guilty forever for wishing something bad would happen to Corinne, who was kind and good and smelled expensive.

  “Miri, who is it?” Rusty called.

  “Come in,” Miri told Corinne.

  “Oh, no, we don’t want to intrude,” Corinne said. “We just wanted to make sure you were all right.”

  Suddenly, it seemed important for Natalie and her family to stay, to help celebrate Rusty’s birthday. “It’s Rusty’s birthday and we’re going to have cake.”

  “I love birthday cake,” Fern said.

  “Well…just for a minute,” Corinne told Miri, following her into Irene’s dining room. Leah jumped up and brought extra chairs to the table.

  “Please…sit…” Irene told them. “Let’s be happy we’re all together.”

  “Except for Henry,” Leah said.

  “But thank god Henry is safe,” Irene reminded her. Irene could always find something good to say about a situation. And for the moment Miri was grateful for both her mother and her grandmother.

  When Irene lit the candles on the cake and set it down in front of Rusty, Miri began to sing, “Happy birthday…” The others joined in. Rusty blew out the candles on her cake, thirty-three of them, plus one for good measure, with tears streaming down her face.

  “You’re not that old, are you?” Fern asked.

  Rusty laughed. “No, I’m not that old.”

  Then they all laughed, as if it were a real party, as if nothing bad had happened or would ever happen. Miri forgot to ask what became of the leg of lamb.

  Rusty

  Rain, shine or disaster, Rusty was on the 7:32 train to New York. The day after the crash was no exception. She hadn’t missed a day of work in fourteen years and she wasn’t about to start now, just because a plane crashed into the Elizabeth River. Never mind that she’d hardly slept, that Miri had spent most of the night in her bed, both of them tossing and turning, dozing off, then waking with a start. When Miri asked if she believed in God, what was she supposed to say? “Of course I believe in God,” she’d told her.

  “But how could God let such a terrible thing happen?”

  “It’s not God’s job to decide what happens,” she’d said. “It’s his job to help you get through it.” If only she really believed that.

  On the train her hands shook and her teeth chattered. The man seated next to her assumed she was cold and offered his coat. “Maybe you’re coming down with something.”

  “No, it’s not that…” She thanked him but refused his coat. Maybe she should have stayed home, but then Miri would have wanted to stay home, too, and it was important for her to set an example, to show Miri that no matter what, you take your responsibilities seriously.

  She’d landed the Employee of the Year award more than once, and not just because of her exemplary attendance record. If Irene hadn’t stepped up to the plate when Miri was born, Rusty wouldn’t be executive secretary to Charles Whitten, senior partner at Whitten, Granger and White, one of the most respected law firms in the city. Rusty was lucky to have such a good job, such an important job, given that she’d never gone to college. She’d planned to go, had been accepted to Douglass, the women’s school of Rutgers University, but things happen, things that can change your life overnight. Not that she was going to dwell on that. She’d learned a long time ago to look ahead, not back. What’s done is done. Make the best of it and move on. And she had, hadn’t she?

  None of the girls at the office asked her about the crash. They knew she commuted from New Jersey, but they were chatting about their weekends—about how their boyfriends couldn’t believe Joe DiMaggio had announced his retirement. Only Mrs. Yates, head of the secretarial pool, said, “You live in Elizabeth, don’t you, Rusty?”

  “I do.”

  “I heard about the crash. Tragic.”

  “Yes, it was.”

  “Glad you were able to make it to work today.”

  “Me, too.”

  And that was it except for her friend Naomi. Rusty’s family called her the “Other Naomi.” They met for grilled cheese sandwiches at the coffee shop around the corner from their offices. Naomi wanted to talk about the crash but Rusty kept changing the subject. Turned out she didn’t want to talk about it, after all, or even think about it. Instead, she bummed a Chesterfield off Naomi and asked for a refill on her coffee.

  Miri

  Miri expected school to be canceled on Monday morning but there was no announcement on the local radio station. She wished she could stay in bed under the covers with the quilt pulled over her head. She’d slept fitfully last night, waking every hour, finally winding up in Rusty’s bed, the two of them watching over each other. She’d never get rid of the stench in her nostrils, no matter how she washed them, sticking the soapy washcloth up as far as it would go, making her sneeze twenty times in a row. She’d tried telling herself it hadn’t happened. If she went to the river today there would be no sign of a plane. It had all been a bad dream.

  Even before she got downstairs the aroma of freshly baked coffee cake wafted up from Irene’s kitchen. And if it hadn’t happened, why would Irene be up and baking this early?

  “For the Red Cross, darling,” Irene told her, while Blanche Kessler, home-service chairman for the Elizabethtown chapter, packed the cakes into boxes.

  “To serve at the hospitality table,” Blanche Kessler said, “outside the makeshift morgue behind Haines Funeral Home.”

  If she still had any doubts, they vanished when she got to school. They were all buzzing about it in the hall outside their homerooms. Where were you when you heard the news? What were you doing?

  SUZANNE: My mother and I had just sat down to Sunday dinner when we heard the roar, then the explosions. We put our faces into our dinner plates—pork chops, mashed potatoes and beets. You should have seen us when it was over. Beets stain everything. I swear, I thought it was a comet. It sounded like a comet.

  ANGELO VENETTI: That was no comet—that was a bomb inside the plane.

  PETE WOLF: That was no bomb. It was something from outer space, some alien thing, maybe Martians.

  DONNY KELLEN: It’s a Commie plot!
<
br />   ELEANOR (baiting Donny): You sure Senator Joe McCarthy didn’t take the plane down?

  DONNY KELLEN: McCarthy’s the one person trying to save us from the Commies.

  ELEANOR: McCarthy is an evil man. A bully.

  DONNY KELLEN (shouting): I can’t help it if you’re too thick to see the truth, bitch.

  ELEANOR: Idiot!

  Eleanor Gordon was the most sophisticated in their crowd. She read The New Yorker. When it came to McCarthy, Miri’s family agreed with Eleanor.

  Donny Kellen was always ranting about the Commies and how they were trying to take over the world. When the Dianetics were kicked out of town for starting a medical school without permission, he’d ranted about that, too, but Miri didn’t think the Dianetics had anything to do with the Commies, though she couldn’t be sure. Uncle Henry had covered the story for the Daily Post. That’s how Miri found out Donny’s aunt had left town with them, to follow some guy named L. Ron Hubbard to Kansas.

  —

  WHEN THE BELL RANG they headed for their homerooms, Suzanne, Miri and Eleanor to 9-201, Natalie and Robo to 9-202, but that didn’t stop them from jabbering.

  “Settle down, boys and girls,” Mrs. Wallace, their homeroom teacher, said. Mrs. Wallace was so small, not even five feet, they called her “Tiny” behind her back, not Theresa, her real first name. Rumor had it she weighed under ninety pounds. Yet she was married and had two children, both of them in elementary school. In addition to teaching English, Tiny was the adviser to the school paper, Hamilton Headlines. Eleanor was editor in chief. The paper came out just three times during the school year and the stories covered only school-related activities. Nothing about the rest of the world, or even the rest of the city. Miri had very little interest in the stories she was assigned to write, but she did her best, getting in the who, what, where, when and why.

  On the day the paper came out most of the kids just glanced at it, then tossed it into the wastebasket. Some didn’t even bother to look before throwing it away. It galled Miri to see that, because even if it wasn’t exciting to read, it was still a lot of work.