Lean on Me

by Claudia Hall Christian

  “Like a lot of people, he worked night and day in the aftermath,” Alex said. “Raz’s wife’s body was found on October 26, 2001.”

  “Not her body,” Raz glanced at her and looked out the window.

  “They only found her hand,” Alex said. “Her hand and her lover’s hand. The fingers were still entwined. He recognized her hand immediately because she was still wearing her wedding set. But their bodies… He gets maybe ten tiny pieces a year.”

  Alex shrugged.

  “Raz and I went to the Ground Zero site when we started working together,” Alex said. “We try to go every October 26. The first year we were there, a few guys who worked the site happened by.”

  “Four,” Raz turned to look at Trece. “They said they were out walking and ended up there. We didn’t believe them, but we never found another explanation.”

  “Next year, a few more guys showed up,” Alex said.

  “And women,” Raz nodded.

  “Over time, it’s grown,” Alex said.

  “We’ve lost a lot of people too,” Raz said. “Died.”

  “From the shit in the air?” Trece asked.

  “Respiratory illness,” Raz said. “Cancer.”

  “They call it Ground Zero Illness,” Alex said. “They were given respirator masks but they were mostly non-functional for the work they were doing.”

  “We had no idea what was in the air and…” Raz shook his head. “I was lucky… Fairy luck.”

  He looked at Alex. She smiled at him.

  “We never know who we’re going to see,” Alex said.

  “It’s an Alex thing, Trece,” Raz said. “She insisted we get dressed up and dance in memory of all that happened – all the bad, all that was lost…”

  “And all the good,” Alex smiled at him. “The heroes who worked to put everything back together. The people who were saved. The amazing workers who showed up day after day. Many of them never knew if they’d get paid. They came to work because they could. We celebrate the glorious human spirit that joined together.”

  “Now it’s kind of a thing,” Raz said. “The guys show up in tuxes; the ladies in ballroom wear. We bring the music.”

  “And we dance,” Alex said. “It’s very… somber and… beautiful. There are lights there, now but it used to be dirt and darkness. A few years ago, one of the wives brought candles. Now they turn the lights out and we dance in the candlelight. It’s… breathtaking.”

  “It’s only once a year,” Raz said. “No advertising. No politicians or reporters. No grandstanding. Sometimes, the local restaurants show up with food. The NYPD shuts down the street and guards the event.”

  “You’ll probably need to stay with them,” Alex said.

  “Sounds like that’s where I belong,” Trece said. “I feel kinda tingly like I’m going somewhere special.”

  “I’m glad to have you,” Raz said. “It’s not my favorite or my best night.”

  “It’s very hard,” Alex said. “I think for everyone. That’s part of the beauty. We get together in our sorrow and just remember.”

  “That’s where you went from Scotland?” Trece asked.

  “Right,” Alex said. “I couldn’t go when I was unconscious in Walter Reed, of course. I hadn’t planned to go the year John and I got married again but…”

  “John insisted,” Raz said. “I was there by myself when Alex showed up. And…”

  “That was fun,” Alex said.

  “Alex is a really good friend to me,” Raz said.

  “I know the feeling,” Trece smiled.

  “We should sleep if we can,” Alex said. “This is a long, late night and tomorrow is going to be another meeting-o’-drama.”

  “How long before we get to Bolling?” Raz asked the driver.

  “Sir, we are twenty minutes from Bolling,” the driver said. “I’ll wake you before we get there.”

  Trece leaned back to sleep.

  Raz put his arm around Alex and they shared a long look. He kissed the top of her head and leaned back to sleep. Snuggling into him, she fell asleep.

  F

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Tuesday morning

  October 27 – 5:25 a.m. EDT

  Sheridan Circle Mansion, Washington DC

  Raz carried Alex up the front steps. She waved to Troy when he opened the mansion door. Raz carried her up the marble stairs. Troy was about to shut the door when Trece came up.

  “You’re up early,” Trece said.

  “I’m supposed to meet my mom for breakfast,” Troy said. “She’s coming here to see the kids.”

  “Here?” Trece’s eyebrows went up with surprise.

  “That’s what I said,” Troy nodded. “But she wanted to come. Leena’s going to watch the boys until Mom and I sort a few things out.”

  “No DA today?” Trece asked.

  “Not in Washington. I’m done here,” Troy said. “I have another round in Fredericksburg this afternoon. Did you ever hear if they found something on the tapes? I’ve been so absorbed with the kids that I haven’t asked.”

  “They ran facial recognition on the weapons dealer’s security tape,” Trece said. “They found the guy who bought the guns in your name. They think he’s the same guy the Irish boys found planting the bombs.”

  “Have they found the guy?” Troy asked.

  “That’s an interesting question,” Trece said. “Depends on who you ask.”

  “Any idea what that means?” Troy asked.

  “Quoting word for word,” Trece smiled.

  “Figured as much,” Troy said. “How was last night?”

  “I cried,” Trece said.

  “Cried?”

  “The moment we arrived, they shut off the lights,” Trece said. “They had all these candles lit and…”

  “Candles?” Troy asked.

  “They had two thousand and eighty-three white candles lit for the people who died at the Towers, one hundred and twenty-five yellow candles for those who died at the Pentagon, four hundred and twenty-one beige candles for the First Responders killed, and about two hundred and fifty or so dark yellow candles for those who’ve died of that illness – you know the First Responders thing. They even had nineteen light-blue candles for the terrorists. I asked about it. They said the terrorists families lost their sons too. The guy who told me said he didn’t agree with it, but it was an event for everyone. That’s the first time I welled up.”

  Trece looked away from Troy to regain control over his emotions. Turning back, he continued.

  “It was pitch black. You could see the lights across the harbor and reflections off the water, but basically it was dark. The candles were already lit when they turned off the lights. Alex pulled out an mp3 player and gave it to a uniform. No one said anything. The kid hooked the mp3 player to some speakers and everyone danced. Waltzes, Fox Trot, slow dances, and the like. In the dark, I could see guys weeping. Raz cried. I stood guard with the cops. I’ll tell you, we all cried. It was… amazing.”

  “Wow,” Troy said.

  “Wow is right,” Trece said. “They danced and danced and danced. There was food and water and Porta-Potty, you know. No alcohol. Otherwise, they danced. They danced until the candles burned out. Big candles too. They ended the night with a champagne toast to the everyday heroes who make up our world. It was… beautiful.”

  “Did everyone stay?” Troy asked.

  “All night,” Trece said. “Every single person. Some people traded partners. Everyone wanted to dance with Alex, of course. But mostly Alex and Raz danced together. Poor Alex’s hip is bad, but she kept dancing. I don’t think I’ve ever been to anything like that.”

  “I’ve never heard of it,” Troy said.

  “No press. Alex makes sure of that,” Trece said. “And no politicians. If they weren’t on the ground that day and didn’t physically do the clean-up work, they don’t dance on October 26.”

  “Any try?” Troy asked.

  “Mayor,” Trece said. “Some Senat
or. The cops took care of them. Some guy who was taking a video with his phone but... some things are private.”

  Troy clapped Trece on the back.

  “I’m going to sleep for a while,” Trece said. “I think Alex and Raz are due at the Pentagon for some stupid thing or another.”

  “No idea,” Troy shrugged.

  “Lucky for you,” Trece smiled. “Good luck with your mom.”

  “Thanks, I’m warming up some muffins for the boys,” Troy pointed toward the kitchen. “They love those mini-muffins.”

  “Better go.”

  Trece waved Troy off and went up the stairwell. He took a shower and lay down to sleep. The images of the men and women danced on his closed eyelids. Without warning, his sorrow and loss filtered up through the layers of tough guy. Overcome, the big man silently wept.

  FFFFFF

  Tuesday morning

  October 27 – 7:25 a.m. EDT

  Sheridan Circle Mansion, Washington DC

  “Why are you being so shitty?” Troy asked his mother. “You asked to come here. You asked to share a meal with me. Why don’t you crawl back to your own life and get the hell out of mine?”

  Elizabeth Jasper’s head jerked up to look at him.

  “The love of my life was brutally murdered in front of my eyes,” Troy said. “My children are traumatized from the years they spent with my brother. The police believe that I killed her because you and your husband came up with some cockamamie story. I don’t have to… No, I won’t listen to this. Get the hell out.”

  Troy hopped to his feet and walked to the door. He jerked the door open and pointed. His mother didn’t move.

  “You saw the boys. You spent every single Sunday afternoon with them. You were the person who could have done something, anything, to help or protect them,” Troy said. “You did nothing. Not one damn thing. And you dare to come here to spread your evil judgments and cruelty? To me? You have no right to say one damn thing to me about anything. You lost that right when you stood by while Hector raped and tortured my children and Dahlia.”

  Troy gestured again toward the door.

  “Get out,” Troy said.

  Elizabeth Jasper sat frozen in her seat. She looked like a doe caught in the headlights of an oncoming car – frightened, angry, and unable to move. He turned away from her to catch his breath. Looking out the door, he noticed Alex standing in the hallway. She smiled.

  “I see you’ve broken the ice,” Alex said as she came into the room. She sat down across the table from Elizabeth.

  “Alexandra…” Elizabeth started.

  “Oh you need me here,” Alex said in such a way that Elizabeth swallowed hard. “Where were we?”

  She reviewed the food on the table. Not finding anything appealing, she filled a coffee cup from the thermos. With matching looks of overwhelm, Troy and Elizabeth stared at her.

  “Now that’s funny,” Alex said. “I’ve seen Troy give that look. I didn’t realize you do it too.”

  Troy and Elizabeth continued to stare at her.

  “Close the door and sit right here, Troy,” Alex patted his place at the head of the table. Troy did as he was told. “Sorry, I need one more second.”

  She got up, picked up Troy’s plate, and went to the kitchen door. While they stared, she had a brief chat with the cook and returned to the table.

  “They have the nicest people here,” Alex smiled. “Now where were we?”

  “I was yelling like a mad man,” Troy’s face flushed with a mixture of anger and shame.

  “I’ve seen you blow harder,” Alex looked him full in the face. “Did you say anything that wasn’t true? At least for you?”

  Troy shook his head.

  “Then you don’t have anything to clean up,” Alex smiled at him. “Now Elizabeth, what do you think of what Troy said? Please note that I used the word ‘think’. We’re all upset here. Adding more emotion will only make this process worse.”

  There was a knock at the door from the kitchen.

  “Just a second,” Alex said.

  She got up and took a plate with a vegetable egg white omelet, a few pieces of bacon, and dry toast from the cook. She thanked the woman and turned into the room. She set the plate in front of Troy.

  “How many muffins did you have this morning?” Alex asked.

  “A lot,” Troy said.

  She gave him a slight smile.

  “You see, Elizabeth, I’ve seen your son keep his cool in the middle of combat,” Alex said. “Bullets flying everywhere, bombs blowing nearby, command screaming in our ears, and Troy here is cool as a cucumber.”

  Alex gave her a slight smile.

  “Unless he eats sugar, white flour, potatoes…”

  “Tequila,” Troy smiled at her. Even though he’d seen her do this before, he couldn’t help but be amazed at her ease in diffusing his tense emotions.

  “Tequila!” Alex laughed. Their eyes held for a moment. “I’m going to talk to your mother for a moment. Eat your breakfast.”

  “Yes sir,” Troy took a bite of his omelet, looked at her, and began wolfing down his food.

  “Now Elizabeth,” Alex said. “The question on the table is what do you think of what your son said?”

  “I think he’s got a right to his opinion,” Elizabeth sniffed.

  His mouth full of food, Troy’s eyes went wide. He hopped to his feet again. Alex patted his place.

  “I’ve got this,” Alex said.

  He shook his head. She gave him a “sit down and shut up” look. He dropped to his seat.

  “Eat,” Alex said.

  He returned to eating. Alex turned back to Elizabeth.

  “You sure know how to piss someone off,” Alex shook her head. “Did you come here to piss off Troy?”

  Elizabeth sat back in her chair and crossed her arms.

  “Answer the question or go home,” Alex said.

  “No,” Elizabeth said. “I did not come here to make Troy angry.”

  “Then let’s go through them one at a time,” Alex said. “Did you and your husband plan the execution of Dahlia Jasper?”

  “Execution?” Elizabeth asked.

  “The current findings of the Fredericksburg police are that you, your husband, and Hector planned the execution of Dahlia Jasper in order to obtain full control of your only grandchildren. When your contractor came into full knowledge of exactly who his target was and her affiliations, he fled. Hector was forced to execute the contract himself.”

  “There’s evidence to this fact?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Plenty,” Alex said.

  As if she was thinking it through, Elizabeth squinted at Alex. Her head jerked to Troy. He nodded. Her eyes flitted around the room. Her arms never moved from their protective position over her heart.

  “I believe your flesh and blood deserves to know the answer to the question,” Alex said.

  Elizabeth turned to look at her. She gave a slight nod.

  “He deserves an answer,” Elizabeth said. “I’m not sure I have one to give.”

  Troy opened his mouth, but Alex put her hand over his and shook her head. He gave a slight nod. They let the silence lag.

  “Did I plan to get custody of the boys?” Elizabeth asked. “Yes. I don’t have excuses to make. I didn’t understand what was happening. I love those boys and all of a sudden we were blocked from seeing them ever again. Forever is a long time and...”

  Troy and Alex continued to let their silence do the interrogating for them.

  “I had breakfast with your mother and the General, Alex,” Elizabeth said. “Yesterday? No, was it the day before? I don’t remember. I haven’t slept much since. She shared the police photos from Hector’s home and… I didn’t know. I should have. You’re right Troy. I should have. I didn’t. When the boys were taken, I was told Alex used her government connections to create lies about Hector. I asked why…”

  Staring off in the distance, Elizabeth wagged her finger at no one.

  “I could
n’t figure it out,” Elizabeth said. “Why would Alex do that? I asked, more than once. It’s not enough, but I knew it didn’t make sense. I’ve known your father, Alex, for… ever. I could have asked him. I didn’t. And it didn’t make sense. I should have asked more questions but I missed the boys and I…”

  Elizabeth shrugged.

  “I can’t decide if I didn’t want to know or I’m just stupid.” Elizabeth’s eyes filled with tears. As if to deny the emotion a foothold, she shook her head. “We weren’t allowed upstairs, Homer…”

  “Troy,” Alex said.

  “I’m sorry,” Elizabeth raised her hands and dropped her head. “Troy. Dahlia was the one who always insisted. ‘The upstairs is a mess,’ she’d say. ‘You know how boys are. They need a place to play without worrying about cleaning up.’ I knew that didn’t make sense. Hector never tolerated even one thing out of place. And… you’re right. I didn’t do anything.”

  “I always hated the name Homer,” Elizabeth turned to look at Troy. “I didn’t want you to bear that name but it started with an H.”

  Unwilling to give in so easily, Troy continued to stare at her.

  “Did you know Dahlia was the love of Troy’s life?” Alex asked.

  “Yes,” Elizabeth said. “I was angry that Troy loved her so much and she married Hector. Patrick told me you were very happy in your little house. I believe it. You were meant for each other. And…”

  Troy’s mother sighed.

  “Oh, I don’t know. It sounds like an excuse…” She glanced at Alex. “Rebecca told me that if I had a chance to talk to Alex about this I shouldn’t make excuses. ‘Alex hates excuses,’ she said. I do too.”

  Alex nodded.

  “But that’s all I have,” Elizabeth said. “I knew Dahlia was unhappy. I knew her parents were dead and she had no one. Knowing what I know now, I feel horrible saying it but… I kind of thought she deserved it. She chose Hector. She should live in the bed she made.”

  “There was a lot of that going around,” Alex said.

  “But the boys…” Elizabeth started. “Hector was gay. I thought he was gay. I knew they were your children, Troy. Who else could have fathered them? But… I didn’t know he was a pedophile. I should have. I look back on his life… my life… And… my guess is he had other victims.”