In the Unlikely Event

by Judy Blume

  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.”

  “Are they okay?”

  He shrugged. “They lost all their stuff. They have no place to live but they weren’t home when the plane crashed, so I guess you could say they’re okay.”

  Miri didn’t know how to reply except to squeeze his hand to acknowledge his feelings. She wondered if Polina knew the Fosters.

  “If only Penny and Betsy hadn’t been home,” Suzanne said. “If only Mrs. Foster had taken them someplace, to the library, maybe, or to a friend’s house to play, a friend who lived in another neighborhood. If only…”

  “If onlys don’t work,” Mason said.

  A policeman moved through the crowd. “Go on now,” he told them. “Time to get home.”

  —

  THEY TOOK the bus back, got off at Suzanne’s corner then walked to Miri’s, where she kissed Mason goodnight at the front door, hiding Fred inside her jacket. Upstairs, Henry was sitting at Rusty’s kitchen table, mopping up what was left of Irene’s vegetable soup with a thick slice of bread.

  “I shouldn’t have let you go,” Rusty said. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  “It was an accident,” Henry assured her. “A tragic accident.”

  “Twice in a row?”

  “I know it doesn’t make sense,” Henry said, “but I’m asking you to believe me.” He got up from the table and wrapped his arms around her. “Terrible things can happen, Miri. I’m so sorry about those little girls.”

  Miri dissolved when he said that, and when she did, Fred whimpered in sympathy. She unzipped her jacket. Fred cocked his head and looked around. “He can’t stay at the Steins’,” she told Rusty. “Phil’s cousin was on that plane. And he can’t stay with Mason’s friend Polina, because she lived in the house the plane slammed into.” She didn’t wait for Rusty to give her permission. She grabbed a copy of the Daily Post from the pile on the table, went to her room and closed the door.

  It didn’t take long for Rusty to knock. “Miri…” The door opened. “It’s okay for Fred to stay tonight. Just not in your bed.”

  But Miri had every intention of having Fred in her bed.

  Elizabeth Daily Post

  Special Edition

  ANOTHER PLANE FALLS

  Raging Inferno Destroys Block of Williamson Street

  By Henry Ammerman

  JAN. 22—It was a horrific scene of suffering and destruction, with bodies buried in the rubble that covered the wre
ckage of an American Airlines Convair en route to Newark Airport from upstate New York. The plane crashed today at 3:45 p.m. in heavy fog and driving rain, plowing into a block of houses on Williamson Street before exploding into an inferno.

  Residents of the houses fled, some with their clothes aflame. Every available police and fire resource in the city was summoned to the struggle, but it would be hours before the search for bodies could even begin.

  Ultimate Horror Only Feet Away

  Students at Battin High School, across the street from the crash site, saw the plane skim the rooftop of their school just before the fatal crash. St. Mary’s High School, catercorner from Battin, escaped destruction, but an after-school crowd of its students were gathered at a confectionery on the ground floor of 310 Williamson St. Knocked down by the initial explosion, they managed to escape before it burst into flames.

  Dead and Missing

  Six residents, including three young children, are missing and feared dead, along with all 23 aboard the plane. Among the passengers on the plane were Robert Patterson, former Secretary of War under President Truman, and four students at Syracuse University.

  Less than six weeks ago, and one mile away, a Miami Airlines C-46 crashed into a warehouse of the Elizabethtown Water Company, landing belly up in the frozen bed of the Elizabeth River. That crash killed all 56 on board but spared those on the ground.

  15

  Distraction

  This time Miri read Henry’s story all the way through. After that she couldn’t fall asleep, even with Fred gently snoring beside her. She thumbed through the paper until she came to the entertainment section, where the stories never made her sad. Gene Kelly had his appendix removed in Paris and was recuperating in Switzerland. Audrey Hepburn, twenty-one years old, opened in Gigi on Broadway, signed with Paramount Pictures and was engaged to be married. There was a pinup picture of Peggy Dow in a long gown. The caption read, NOW STARRING OPPOSITE ARTHUR KENNEDY IN BRIGHT VICTORY, PLAYING AT THE BRANFORD THEATRE IN NEWARK. The movie the Fosters went to see last Sunday night. Or didn’t see. Miri wondered now if they went to a motel, like Suzanne said. If they did she hoped they had a good time because she couldn’t imagine them ever having a good time again. She realized she’d been wrong. Even stories in this section of the paper could make her sad.

  Rumors

  At school the rumors were flying.

  PETE WOLF: What did I tell you? This proves it! Some alien thing is trying to take over Earth.

  ANGELO VENETTI: UFO’s—they’ve been sighted in New Mexico. The Martians want to turn us into zombies so they can control our planet.

  DERISH GRAY: They want to take dead children to the past, or the future, to show what life was like in the mid-twentieth century on a planet called Earth.

  Miri tried not to listen, tried to believe what Henry had told her—that both crashes were accidents. But she wasn’t convinced. That wouldn’t explain why three schools were almost hit, first Hamilton, and now Battin and St. Mary’s. And she remembered Leah telling them how close the first plane had come to the Elks Club on the day one hundred little kids were at a holiday party. But why would Martians come to Elizabeth, New Jersey? What was so special about them that made these creatures from outer space come here? Or was it a mistake? Did they mean to land in New York? Were they after only dead children to carry back in their spaceships or did they want living children, too? Is that what they were going to do with Penny, who liked to dress up in her pink ballet slippers and leotard, showing Miri and Suzanne what she’d learned in dance class that week—were they going to turn her into a zombie? She wasn’t even sure what a zombie was. Something undead. Something that feasted on human brains.

  They’d probably all be dead by June, Miri thought. Forget prom and graduation. She just hoped it would be a quick death so they wouldn’t suffer, so they wouldn’t wind up horribly burned or blinded, or left without arms and legs. It was coming. She didn’t know what it was but it was just a matter of time. She was beginning to believe they were jinxed.

  DONNY KELLEN: McCarthy’s doing the right thing, going after all the pinko Jew bastards like the Rosenbergs. They’re the ones behind it. They should all be fried.

  SUZANNE: Leave the Jews out of this. This has nothing to do with Jews. Plenty of Jews were killed on those planes.

  DONNY: You’re such a Jew lover. That was just a cover to make it look like they’re not responsible.

  CHARLEY KAMINSKY (to Donny): You’re an asshole, you know that? Stick your finger up your butt and take a whiff. That’s you. A piece of shit!

  Donny came after Charley but Charley socked him first, giving him a bloody nose. The other boys held Donny and Charley apart.

  ELEANOR (shouting): It’s sabotage, you idiots! We’re under siege. Get it through your heads. Korea is nothing compared to what’s happening here. Korea is a distraction. You don’t hear Eisenhower saying nominate me for president, and I’ll stop these crashes tomorrow. No, because he can’t. Sure, he can stop the war in Korea. But he can’t stop this one. Because our side doesn’t know who we’re fighting.

  Everyone knew Eleanor was the smartest person in their class. So when she said sabotage the rest of them went scrambling for the Merriam-Webster dictionary.

  Natalie watched but said nothing while the other kids went on and on, their stories of aliens, zombies and sabotage growing from possibility to probability. She shook her head once or twice as if to tell them they had it all wrong, but no one was watching besides Miri. What did Natalie know, or think she knew?

  They had another safety drill before lunch, proving Mr. Royer, the principal, also believed they were jinxed.

  A Condolence Call to Mrs. Barnes

  On their way to pay a condolence call to Mrs. Barnes, Rusty insisted that Miri practice saying, I’m sorry for your loss. Mrs. Barnes lived in an apartment house on Elmora Avenue near Magie. I’m sorry for your loss, I’m sorry for your loss, Miri repeated. They’d left their house as soon as Rusty had come home from work, run a comb through her hair, freshened her lipstick and spritzed herself with Arpège.

  “If she offers her hand,” Rusty said, “you shake it.”

  “ ‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ shake shake.”

  “This is not the time for sarcasm, Miri.”

  When is the time for sarcasm, Mom? Miri would have liked to say, but she knew better. Instead she said, “I’m not being sarcastic. It’s just…you’re treating me like a six-year-old.”

  “You’ve never been in this situation and I’m trying to help you through it.”

  “Nobody’s ever been in this situation.”

  “Not true, Miri. We’ve been through a war, remember? And we’re fighting another one now. Some mother loses a son every day.”

  “Can you fight two wars at the same time?”

  “You mean Korea and something else?” Rusty asked.

  “Yes, Korea and something else.”

  “I hope that’s never going to happen. Things are bad enough with Korea.”

  “So that means it’s a good time to attack us, because we’re busy fighting in Korea. Korea is a distraction, right?”

  “I’m not sure what you’re getting at,” Rusty said.

  “Never mind,” Miri told her. She heard Eleanor’s voice in her head. Korea is a distraction.

  Corinne was at Mrs. Barnes’s apartment, but there was no sign of the rest of the family, which surprised Miri. The small living room was crowded with family and friends who had come to pay their respects to Mrs. Barnes. Mrs. Jones was in the tiny kitchen with her daughter Jamison, serving up plates of sandwiches and cookies.

  I’m sorry for your loss, Miri practiced inside her head. But it turned out she didn’t get to say it to Mrs. Barnes because Mrs. Barnes was in her bedroom and didn’t come out. The other son was there, so Miri said it to him. And the daughter from Pennsylvania with her husband and little girl.

  “I’m sorry for your loss.” She felt like an idiot saying it. Each of them
took her hand and said, “Thank you.” It wasn’t as hard as she’d thought. But it felt wrong. She wished she could have told the truth—I was there when your mother heard the news over the radio, I was there when she screamed Tim’s name and fell to her knees, I was there when Fern grabbed her leg and tried to go home with her, crying, Barnesy—that’s what Fern calls her. Did you ever dream someone would call your mother Barnesy?

  Rusty disappeared, leaving Miri alone in a room full of strangers. What was she supposed to do? She stopped in front of the family photos set out on the breakfront. Photos of Tim as a child, photos of him in his uniform, photos with his wife and two little girls.

  Captain Timothy Barnes was handsome, better-looking than his brother or sister. Mrs. Barnes’s daughter came up beside her. “Did you know my brother?”

  “I know your mother,” Miri said. “Is she okay?”

  “Not really. I doubt she’ll ever be okay again. Tim was her favorite.”

  Miri never thought about parents having favorites. When you’re the only child you don’t think that way.

  Corinne came to her rescue. “I heard you were a big help on Tuesday, Miri. You’ve got a real head on your shoulders.”

  Miri knew that was supposed to be a compliment. As opposed to, You have no head on your shoulders. Or, Use your head for once.

  “This has been very hard on Natalie,” Corinne said, speaking in a hushed tone. “She’s so sensitive, so imaginative. I suppose you know that.”

  “Yes.” She didn’t have the guts to tell Corinne that Natalie was acting cuckoo. Anyway, who was she to say Ruby wasn’t living inside Natalie? Who was she to say that wasn’t the aliens’ plan all along? All of it was making her think the whole world was going crazy.

  Jamison set a plate of sandwiches on the dining table, pretty little sandwiches on white bread with the crusts cut off, each decorated with a tiny pickle or slice of olive or sprig of parsley. Miri helped herself to a turkey sandwich. The potato salad had too much mayonnaise for her so she skipped that and took potato chips instead.