Getting Old is a Disaster

by Rita Lakin

  We cut through Phases Four and Five, pretty much the same scene we just left. Stragglers wandering around looking for friends, going to neighbors’ apartments to check the damage. The buildings are still intact, except for broken windows and destroyed Florida rooms; many of our screened-in porches didn’t make it.

  When we round the corner to Phase Six, I stop and cry out, “No!” I can’t believe what’s before me. Building Z—Jack’s building—has collapsed! Evvie sees it, too, and grabs my arm. We start running as best we can through the debris.

  A small group of people stand in front, staring and talking quietly. I look across the courtyard. Building Y is undamaged. But in Jack’s building, the third floor has caved in onto the second floor, where Jack’s apartment is... Was. I can’t see his apartment. It is crushed underneath the floor above. I remember Ida’s chilling remark. I’m frantic. I finally see people I recognize. One of Jack’s bridge partners, Carol Ann Gutsch, is there. As is Abe Waller. Carol Ann is crying. A woman I can’t identify has her arms around her. Carol Ann’s clothes are torn and her face is cut and bloody. We run over to them.

  My voice is shrill, I hardly recognize it. “What’s happened to the people in there? Where’s Jack?”

  Abe clutches at the yarmulke on his head as if to make sure it is still there. “We don’t know. When I came outside I found Mrs. Gutsch here on the ground.”

  Carol Ann shakes her head, waving her arms impotently, crying harder.

  I can barely let myself look back up. My God, are they still in there?

  Abe continues. “We were lucky.” He points to his far-corner first-floor apartment, which is about all that’s left standing of the building. “Our people were able to escape when the building started to fall.”

  Evvie, who knows the list, says, “Jack also had Louise Bannister, Dora Dooley, and Carmel Graves staying with him.”

  I want to shake Carol Ann until she tells me what I need to know. I cut in. “What about Jack and the other women? You have to tell me what happened. Please.”

  Her words tumble out through her tears. “All I remember is we were sleeping on the floor in the living room. Then the crashing noise started above us and the ceiling began to cave in. Jack yelled for us to run. I was nearest the door and I got out first. I dashed to the steps as fast as I could. I was so afraid the steps would be gone, and I’d be trapped, but they were still there. I tried to look back, but I couldn’t see with all the dirt and pieces of the building falling. I could hear Dora screaming, and Carmel crying that she couldn’t find the door. I made it downstairs and ran into the middle of the street and I fell down. That’s all I remember. I must have passed out. By the time I came to”—she indicates her neighbors—“they were bending over me—

  I interrupted. “But Jack and the others. Did you see them again?”

  Carol Ann shakes her head.

  A man holding a towel to his bleeding head says, “I live in building Y. I saw something. After Z building fell I ran back home to grab my flashlight. When I finally made it out again, I saw a car drive out. Amazing that any of the cars could be running.”

  I feel hope. “Maybe someone picked them up.” I look around. “Does anyone have a car that hasn’t been hit?” I’m miserable when all I see are heads shaking and all I hear is them mumbling no.

  Suddenly a piercing scream comes from behind Jack’s building. We all run. The easier way around the building is from the side of Abe’s apartment, which had the least damage. Oh, God, I fear the worst. Will all their dead bodies be lying there?

  When we turn the cornet; we see a young couple standing there staring down into what seems like a very deep pit where part of the building used to be. The man has his flashlight illuminating downward.

  “What is it?” the man with the towel asks. “What did you find?”

  The young man says, “We were heading to look for our friends in Phase Four and we took the back way because it was less of a mess, and we almost fell into this hole.”

  The young woman can barely stutter. “There’s a dead body down there.”

  Abe’s group crowd around, but I cannot move. Evvie holds on tightly to me. I shut my eyes.

  “You’re not gonna believe this,” the man says. “It’s someone dead, all right. But it couldn’t have happened last night. That’s a skeleton down there!”

  The Hospital

  It takes a few moments for me to process the information. A dead body. Buried deep. A skeleton. Thank God it can’t be Jack—that’s the only thing I care about. So where did he go? It had to be the hospital. Someone was hurt, or he would have come to me.

  The hospital is right across the street. But Oakland Park Boulevard might be impossible to maneuver. We can take the shortcut through the back of Lanai Gardens. I grab Evvie and pull her with me. “Come on, we’ve got to get to the hospital! Now!”

  We race through mud and dirt and rubble and more milling people stunned by what has happened to their lives in one night. The hospital seems not to be too damaged, but it’s chaotic. Outside, dented cars that can still be driven are parked haphazardly; nobody bothers to use designated areas today. The streets are silent except for sirens. Probably every police car and fire engine is out and about today.

  Inside, it looks like a war zone: Crowds of bloody, battered people are waiting to be helped. Crying relatives look bewildered and shocked. I try to get the attention of someone at the check-in desk, but it’s mobbed. I’m not alone trying to locate lost people. The harried woman behind the desk, dressed in sweats, hair uncombed, who must have rushed over this morning, makes it clear she has little information yet. We will all have to wait.

  Not my Evvie. She grabs my arm and we head for the stairs. We have all of us, one time or an-other, been here. We know the place backwards and forwards. We also know most of the staff. Most of our doctors use this hospital facility. We head for Emergency.

  It, too, looks like a war zone. Bandaged heads and bodies everywhere. People lying on gurneys, waiting to be seen. Nurses and doctors hurrying from room to room.

  “Let’s split up,” Evvie suggests. “Signal when you find them.” She refers to the whistle we in-vented when we were teenagers and would lose each other in department stores.

  I go from cubicle to cubicle, sometimes seeing people I know, asking if anyone has seen Jack. No luck at all. It’s almost surreal, our friends and neighbors all at once in such a situation.

  I have a preposterous thought—I wonder where

  Grandpa Bandit is. Is he somewhere nearby? Never mind.

  Pm at the last possible section, dismayed and frustrated, when I hear Evvie use our familiar whistle. I follow the sound around and about the nurses’ station until I find her.

  And Jack.

  As I run toward him I see immediately that he looks all right. Unharmed. Dirty, disheveled, cuts and scrapes on his face, but definitely still in one piece. He sees me and runs to meet me. We kiss and hug. I feel like we’re in a scene in a romantic movie.

  “When I saw your building...” I begin.

  “I couldn’t leave my women charges to come to you. I was silently sending you messages and hop-ing your ESP was working.”

  We kiss again. “Is your gang all right?” he asks.

  “Yes, we were very lucky.”

  He brings me to poor Dora Dooley, who is thoroughly miserable. “I broke my arm,” she tells me. “I’m waiting for someone to put on a cast. And the TV isn’t working. I could be watching my soaps!”

  Poor one-track-mind Dora.

  Then we check on Carmel Graves, who is swathed in bandages. “I feel like a mummy,” she says with humor.

  “Where’s Louise?” I ask. “Is she all right?”

  “She’s fine,” Carmel says, pointing. “She’s over there visiting people she knows.”

  “Did you see Carol Ann?” Jack asks.

  Evvie says, “She’s okay, just shook up. She’s with Abe.”

  “Thank God,” he says. “I knew she got o
ut, but I couldn’t find her in the dark.”

  Carmel smiles at me. “He’s quite a guy, your boyfriend. He carried Dora over his shoulder and held on to me tightly with his other arm. And with Louise hanging on to his jacket and staying very close, he got us out of there. I don’t know how he did it. It was totally black and we only had my flashlight, which needed new batteries and was al-most useless.”

  She and Jack smile at each other. “Some Boy Scout I was,” Jack says. “First thing happened I lost my flashlight.”

  When we return to Jack’s building hours later, having left Dora and Carmel with some friends, he is astonished at the damage. “That we got out alive is a miracle,” he says. “And you tell me there’s a skeleton?”

  I take him around the back. By now there is a sizeable crowd circling the fissure in the ground and yellow tape has been hung to keep people away. A couple of police cars are parked nearby.

  “Dad!” We turn to see Jack’s son, Morrie, rushing toward us. Father and son hug. “Thank God you’re all right,” Morrie says.

  “I asked every policeman I saw at the hospital if anyone had seen you,” Jack tells him. “Then I ran into Oz Washington and he told me you were safe.”

  Morrie hugs me, too. Hard. Clearly he was worried about me, bless his heart.

  “What’s going on here?” Jack asks.

  Another voice is heard. A familiar one. “That’s what I want to know!”

  I turn to see Stanley Heyer. The sprightly eighty-five-year-old comes hurrying toward us with, as usual, Abe Waller. Poor Stanley. A few days ago he thought it was just a roof that needed repair. Now he’ll have his hands full with all of Lanai Gardens to deal with. He stares down into the deep crevice where the skeleton lies.

  Morrie says to him, “We need to get the body out and do an autopsy, but obviously this is not a priority today, with the city in so much disorder. Can you tell us anything that might help?”

  Stanley looks at the bones soberly. “One thing is clear: He or she is in the substructure of the building. I can tell from the cement and what’s left of the framed trench around him. This poor soul must have been buried under the building before it was completed.”

  “Oy, such a terrible accident,” Abe says, shaking his head dolefully.

  “If I recall,” Stanley says, “we were having many storms around that time, too. I guess he or she might have fallen in.”

  “Or,” says a bystander, “maybe a person dug a hole in their apartment and threw someone in. On purpose.”

  Onlookers react with shudders at this gory imagination.

  Stanley smiles ruefully. “That would be very hard to do. Since we have no basements, that person would have to dig through his living room floor. Everyone would be aware of the mess and the noise.”

  Some agreeing nods at that.

  My probable future stepson, Morrie, says, “Speculation will have to wait until we know more. Meanwhile there’s a whole city to take care of. I’ll have a team on the scene as soon as I’m able.”

  I glance over at Abe Waller. His head is bowed, his lips move in prayer. Next to him Stanley Heyer seems deep in thought.

  The Meeting Will Come to...Disorder

  Two days after the hurricane a meeting of Phase Two has been called. The clubhouse is filled to the brim, including residents of other Lanai Garden Phases, who are here to help. I’ve been told that seated in the rear is a group of people who no longer have livable homes.

  In front, I sit with Jack and the girls. Except for the Canadians, who left before the storm hit, all of the Phase Two condo residents are present.

  We gaze around, nodding to friends and neighbors, many in bandages. Most of us look disheveled because we still don’t have hot water.

  When Evvie is sure everyone is seated, she wends her way up to the podium. As our Phase president and secretary, she thanks everyone for coming and indicates our guest speaker, who comes forward.

  “This man needs no introduction. We all know him, since he has made it his business to know us. Before he retired, he was president of the Heyer Construction Company, which built our beautiful condominium apartments. He loved his creation so much he moved in, living here since 1958, when Lanai Gardens was built. Over the years this kind man has been a familiar sight, carrying a loaf of challah and a bottle of Manischewitz whenever a moving truck arrived and new people came to live here. He would personally greet each one that happy day with bread and wine as a symbol of friendship.

  “For fifty years he has been our best neighbor and now, in our hour of need, our leader steps up to the plate to help us. A big hand for Stanley Heyer.”

  Stanley gets his deserved applause as we stand up to show our respect. Evvie returns to her seat next to me.

  Waving his arms for us to stop and sit back down, he takes the battery-powered mike, which squeals, piercing everyone’s ears. “You all know I’ve been meeting with each Phase about this terrible disaster. The very good news is that though many were injured, nobody died. The bad news is that our beautiful homes require a lot of work. I don’t need to tell you how hard it will be to get help, with the whole city in disrepair.”

  Much murmuring at this. I think to myself how lucky we are to have a man like this in our midst.

  The mood among the residents is despair, but Stanley will give us hope.

  “It will be a long haul. But out of bad comes good, and neighbors will reach out in whatever way they can to help one another rebuild. Everyone in Lanai Gardens who has a construction skill, please sign up to help. Every Phase president will start a list of those who have a service of some kind to offer. Today Evvie Markowitz will start the Phase Two list.”

  Barbi and Casey raise their hands and stand up. Barbi speaks: “As many of you know, we own a computer research service. We deal in accessing information, which can be very helpful in getting services for those in need. We will explain our company’s many uses to those who wish to contact us.”

  Casey adds, “We’re available to anyone free for the next three months.”

  They sit down, to much applause. Evvie writes their names on her Phase Two list.

  A woman I’ve seen before, from Phase Four, jumps up. She is colorfully dressed in what looks like a gypsy outfit. “Let me introduce myself. I am Madame Margaret Ramona, once known on the stage as the woman with a thousand identities. If you want to have your tarot cards read and find out what is in store for the future, get in touch with me. Free. For a while,” she adds quickly.

  Evvie leans over and whispers, “She stole that idea from Lon Chaney.”

  Ida puts her two cents in. “Like who cares. What a character.”

  Many other hands go up. Evvie speaks from her seat. “Meet me later and I’ll get you all on the list. For now, let’s let Stanley wrap things up.”

  The hands go down and Stanley speaks again. “Thank you, one and all, for your generosity. People have opened their homes to their friends and neighbors whose apartments are unlivable. And today, we meet here to continue the same in your Phase.

  “By now nearly everyone has been relocated. There are only a few still in need of lodging.” He indicates the group in back. “Good friends, please come forward.”

  All eyes fix on the people who move up front, bunched together. There are seven in all. Among them, in front, are Dora Dooley and Abe Waller, looking forlorn.

  Stanley puts his arm around Abe and says to the audience, “I, myself, wanted Abe to live with us, but with my large family, there is no room.”

  I whisper to Evvie, “Where’s Louise? How come she’s not up there?”

  “I’ve been meaning to tell you. You won’t like it, but she’s relocated to your building. And worse, on your floor.”

  “What!”

  “Shh,” says Evvie. “Later.”

  “Looky, looky who’s there,” Ida says, poking Evvie. “Your ex.”

  Evvie spots Joe Markowitz in the back of the group, hiding behind a larger man.

  “What’s h
e doing there?” she asks, chagrined. Ida says, “I heard his rental apartment was taken back by the owner, to do repairs.”

  Evvie quips, “Maybe they ought to put him up on an auction block and sell him off. To the lowest bidder.”

  “Don’t be nasty,” I say.

  Sophie says poignantly, “Who’s gonna want Dora? Or Joe? By now all the nice neighbors have been taken.”

  A woman rises. She introduces herself as Fran Duma. “My parents went back home to Quebec. Their apartment, P218, is available for as long as needed. They were apprised that Mr. Waller needed a place and I’m authorized to offer it to him.”

  Evvie and I exchange surprised glances. I say, “That’s the apartment between you and Enya.” Abe walks over to Fran and bows to her as she hands him the key. “Please thank them for me.” While people are commenting, Jack suddenly gets up from my side and starts to move. I tug at his jacket to stop him. “Where are you going?”

  He looks at me, his face blank. “I need a place to stay.”

  Startled, I say, “What are you talking about? You’ve moved in with Morrie.”

  He shakes his head. “He’s got enough on his mind. I’ll only be in the way.”

  I whisper, “Jack, cut out this nonsense. Please.”

  He shrugs. I hold on to his jacket.

  People stare from me and then to Jack, as if at a tennis match. And a buzz goes round the room.

  I say, “This is crazy.”

  He says, gently removing my hand from his jacket, “I’m being practical.”

  He moves toward the front. I feel myself turning red.

  Even my girls stare at me, bewildered. He keeps going. Joe, grinning, makes room for him at his side.

  Evvie pokes me, amazed. “What’s Jack doing?”