What if I Fly?

by Conway, Jayne

  What did the terrorists think they’d accomplish by killing all of those innocent people? She’s shaking with anger, and if she’s honest with herself, fear. If they’re willing to do this, what else are they capable of?

  Will wraps his arm around her shoulders and pulls her into his embrace. She takes a deep breath, holding him close. Feeling the warmth of his body against hers, she feels…safe.

  They docked in mid-town and even here the evidence of the destruction is apparent. The city is covered in soot, a white powdery substance. The streets are eerily silent and virtually deserted, a movie set of post-apocalyptic New York.

  The ferry travelers disburse in different directions, each with a purposeful stride. Will and Julia walk over to Lexington Avenue and take the green line uptown to 77th Street. Subway service resumed this morning to points north, but the trains are nearly empty. The entire city has been transformed.

  They reach Peter and Sloane’s apartment building on 78th and Park by three o’clock and Will explains the situation to the doorman, who solemnly nods and lets them into the apartment.

  Peter isn’t here, that’s clear. They didn’t expect he would be, but they’re hoping to find some sort of clue as to where he went yesterday. Sloane didn’t know where his meeting was being held.

  Will picks up a picture of his family as they enter the living room. It was taken on a ski trip when they were young and he turns to Julia and smiles. Will and Peter have their arms around each other’s shoulders and big grins on their faces.

  She wraps her arms around his waist. “You okay?” Will nods, takes a deep breath and places the photo back on the table.

  Peter left the English muffins out on the counter yesterday, the coffee pot is half full and his dirty mug is sitting in the sink. In his bedroom, they find Peter’s brown leather duffle bag with a change of clothes and a bag of toiletries. He was planning to fly back to the Vineyard after his meeting yesterday and had already packed.

  “Oh Julia…” Will sighs, and sits on his brother’s bed, his head in his hands. She sits beside him for a moment, then goes in search of clues.

  Where were you yesterday morning, Peter?

  Rummaging through the papers on the desk in the study, she finds invitations to a wedding and baby shower, and underneath an opened bill, an appointment book. The book is black leather and her heart stops when she notices Peter’s initials embossed on the cover.

  She flips through the pages until she reaches September 11, 2001. Peter had scribbled on the calendar, Cantor Fitzgerald, 8:30am.

  “Will! Come here!” Julia shouts and he rushes into the study. “Look.” She points to the page.

  He grabs the book from her and his face turns ghostly white, the drops it, his body swaying.

  “Will…where’s Cantor Fitzgerald?” She knows the answer just by the look on his face.

  “The World Trade Center,” he whispers.

  “Oh my god... Oh, no…” she murmurs.

  Will cries out in anger and wipes the desk clear, the papers flying around the room. He kneels down and the tears begin to flow, a steady stream down his face. Julia helps him to the guest bedroom and they lay together, Will’s head on her chest. She holds him close and strokes his back, trying to soothe him.

  “How do I tell my parents? Sloane? Ellie?”

  Julia doesn’t want to give him false hope, but thinks they should check the hospitals before they say anything to the family.

  “We should exhaust every possibility, check the hospitals, hang up the signs. Maybe someone has seen him…”

  Outside of Grand Central Station she saw hundreds of missing person posters on lampposts, the sides of buildings, and inside the station. What if someone saw Peter at a hospital and he’s unconscious? She knows it’s unlikely, but they can’t be one hundred percent certain he’s dead. They both saw the television footage of people fleeing the Towers.

  While Will’s in the bathroom, she turns on the computer in Peter’s study, and does a search for Cantor Fitzgerald. The company’s headquarters are located in the North Tower of the World Trade Center. She scrolls down a little further. The company occupies five floors… the 101st through 105th floors.

  She closes her eyes, her stomach churning. She heard the plane struck the skyscraper between the 93rd and 99th floors. People above the strike zone were trapped and had no chance of survival.

  She switches to CNN’s website and a photograph of a man falling head first from the North Tower makes her gasp in horror. Oh my god. People were jumping!

  These poor people had to make one of three horrible choices, die in an inferno, suffocate from the intense smoke, or take control of their last moments on earth and jump, ending their suffering.

  Will walks up behind her and groans. Quickly, she turns off monitor and he clutches his stomach, his face contorted with grief, the image too painful.

  “I’m so sorry, Will.”

  They make the rounds of the hospitals Wednesday evening, but they’re just going through the motions. Mt. Sinai, Bellevue, New York Presbyterian, Lenox Hill. They’ve shown Peter’s picture to hundreds, if not thousands of people, and hung posters up all over the city.

  Later that evening they attend mass at St. Patrick’s Cathedral with hundreds of other mourners, finding comfort in the rituals.

  Will knows there is no way his brother survived the attack. If Peter was on the 101st floor at eight-thirty that Tuesday morning, and it’s now clear to that he was, he couldn’t have escaped the firestorm. Peter never had a chance.

  Will called his parents and said he didn’t have any luck today, but didn’t share the information they found in the appointment book. He wants to do that in person.

  They spend the night at Peter and Sloane’s apartment, but neither of them can sleep. Will holds onto her all night, and she comforts him as best she can during these dark hours.

  On Thursday morning, Will wants to go to Ground Zero, to see for himself where his brother died. They take a bus as far downtown as they can get, then walk toward Vesey Street. Security is tight, but they get close enough to see the fires still raging, the firefighters and rescue workers carefully removing the debris in search of more survivors.

  Will kneels in the street, his clothes covered in the soot that coats the city and prays, saying goodbye to his brother while Julia stands beside him, horrified by the destruction surrounding them.

  They leave the city that afternoon, returning to New Jersey by ferry and drive home so Will can share the devastating news with his family, and Peter’s pregnant wife.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Peter was one of eight Rhode Islanders to die on September 11th. His picture has been all over the local news and Will’s been receiving condolence messages at home and work from people he hasn’t heard from in years. The outpouring of support from the community has been overwhelming, not just for him, but his whole family. They’re private people, and need this time alone to grieve.

  He deeply mourns the loss of his brother, and is enraged by the senseless act of violence that caused his death, but he finds solace with Julia and Liam. The loss of his brother is always with him, but Julia’s home is his sanctuary, her arms a refuge from darkness.

  Her presence calms him and spending time with her son fills him with joy. He lives completely in the moment with Liam and when it’s the three of them together, he feels a surge of love unlike anything he’s ever known. They’re the family he thought he’d never have.

  Will has the same nightmare every night. He’s in the North Tower with Peter, suffocating from the smoke, his skin blistering from the heat of the flames. He’s coughing, choking and crawls toward his brother.

  Peter stands on the ledge of the window, his face calm and free from worry. He tells Will to join him, to come get some fresh air. Will leans over the windowsill and looks at the street…so far down and shakes his head in fear. He tells his brother to get off, to come down from the ledge but Peter looks up at the sky, unconcerned.r />
  “Pete, please be careful. What if you fall?”

  “Will…” his brother turns to him, “What if I fly?”

  Peter smiles and jumps into the fresh air, his arms open wide, and soars above the buildings, disappearing from sight.

  Will wakes up soaked in sweat, his heart pounding hard inside his chest and reaches for Julia. His brother jumped to his death, he’s sure of it. There’s some comfort knowing Peter took control of his own fate and didn’t suffer in those final moments. What keeps him up half the night is the thought his brother was forced to choose how he died. No one should ever have to make that decision, yet hundreds of people did that day.

  They’ve been home from New York for just over a week. Mid-morning Will drives to Bristol and pulls up in front of his house. He needs to walk Max and pick up a change of clothes before he heads back to Julia’s. He can’t sleep if he’s not beside her.

  Shifting his car into park, Will stares at the house he’s lived in for the past six years. He bought it for the water views and its proximity to his parents, not because he liked the house itself. It’s modern and sleek, not at all his style.

  The interior is cold and impersonal. Avery decorated it with Architectural Digest in mind, not comfort. But the view is incredible. The wall facing the water is floor to ceiling windows and he’s spent many nights alone in the living room, sitting in the dark, listening to the water lapping onto shore, and watching the moonlight dance on the harbor.

  This has never been a home to him, just somewhere to sleep. Now he understands, home isn’t a place, it’s a feeling. His home is with Julia and Liam, no matter where they live.

  Avery’s car is in the driveway and he’s dreading seeing her. He’s avoided her for the most part, telling her his parents need him now. It hasn’t been easy. When she came home from her trip last weekend, she attempted to comfort him in the only way she knows how. Sex.

  The night she arrived, he stopped by to walk the dog and found her in a silky negligee, with candles lit and a bottle of wine on the table. He stared at her, dumbfounded. His brother was murdered. Did she really think a romantic evening would make him feel better? He grabbed Max’s leash, walked him to his sister’s house and drove to Julia’s, sickened by the sight of Avery.

  This morning, he finds Avery sitting by the picture window, staring out the window, and drinking a glass of wine. He’s never seen her drink before noon.

  “Where were you last night?” she asks, her voice flat. He can tell she’s had a couple of drinks already.

  “I slept on the boat.” He walks into the kitchen and pours himself a glass of water.

  “Why didn’t you come home?”

  “Because I wanted to sleep on the boat.”

  He fastens the leash around Max, walks out the door, and takes a deep breath. He has to tell her it’s over. There’s never a ‘right time’ for this kind of conversation.

  He wanted to wait until after Peter’s memorial service this coming week, for his parents’ sake. He doesn’t want to add to their sorrow, but it has to happen sooner. They need to be prepared in case she shows up at their door in a state of…who knows what state Avery will be in! She could be relieved, or she could fly into a rage.

  He has no idea how she’ll react, but his parents have had enough stress. They just lost their son in one of the most horrific ways possible, but that won’t stop Avery from dragging them into their business.

  His parents and Sloane are in deep mourning. He stopped by his parent’s house earlier today and found his father in the den, staring at the news. He’s been wearing the same bathrobe and watching CNN around the clock since the tragedy.

  His heart heavy, Will headed upstairs to check on his mother. She’s hardly gotten out of bed in the past week and a half and spends her days in prayer, doing the rosary over and over again.

  Sloane was lying in Peter’s bed, staring at the ceiling, totally unresponsive. Everyone’s very concerned about her health. The whole family desperately wants her to carry this baby to term, so part of Peter will live on. He doesn’t know how to reach her. No one does.

  His sister has been incredibly strong over the past week. When he and Julia returned from New York they stopped here first and shared what they discovered about Peter’s whereabouts the morning of the attack with Ellie and Kevin. His sister held onto him and sobbed while Julia took the kids outside to play. “It’s just the two of us now.”

  They walked to their parent’s house together and shared the news with the family. His mother burst into tears and ran from the room, his father stared at Will, in shock, and then followed his mother to their bedroom.

  Sloane sat in the armchair motionless. The only sign of distress on her face the tears rolling down her cheeks. Ellie kneeled beside her and asked if there was anything she could do. Sloane slowly turned her head toward Ellie, a dazed expression on her face, “I’m going to bed.” She stood and placed her hand over her stomach, “The baby needs to rest.”

  From his house, he walks Max to Ellie’s. “Hello? Ellie?” He enters her house with the dog and there are toys strewn everywhere, piles of laundry folded on the coffee table, and Sesame Street on the television. He can hear his niece and nephews tearing it up in the next room.

  “Hey there.” She walks into the living room, wiping her hands on a dishtowel, and kisses his cheek, “I was just making lunch. Do you want to stay? I’m creating a culinary masterpiece with two boxes of macaroni and cheese and a head of broccoli.”

  “I’ll pass, thank you,” he laughs. Ellie is not known for her cooking abilities. “It’s Julia’s birthday and I’m heading up to Providence. Can you watch Max?”

  “Of course.” She nods her head, smiling.

  He follows his sister into the kitchen and sits on a stool at the counter, pensive.

  “Ellie. I’m going to tell Avery I’m filing for divorce this week.”

  Her face lights up and a smile spreads across her face. Ellie flings her arms around him, tears in her eyes.

  “Hallelujah! That is music to my ears!” His sister is glowing with joy, “You’ll be rid of the albatross at last!”

  “I think Avery’s getting suspicious. She was drinking when I stopped home and asked me where I was last night. Thankfully, Dad told me she was there looking for me earlier.” Ellie raises an eyebrow. “I said I slept on the boat.”

  “Fuck her!” Ellie grits her teeth, sticking both of her middle fingers in the air, “I fucking hate her!”

  A comment like that would have pissed him off a month ago. Not anymore.

  “I’m nervous how she’ll react. I don’t care if she unleashes on me, but I don’t want her to involve Mom and Dad.”

  “They may be upset, but after losing Peter…I don’t think they’ll be overly distraught. Do you want me to be there?”

  “No. I’m a big boy. I can do this on my own.”

  Ellie takes the pot of macaroni off the stove and walks to the sink.

  “Have you told Jules?”

  “No, I’m going to tell her tonight…”

  “And?” Ellie turns and stares at him. “I hear an ‘and’ in your voice.”

  “And…I’m going to ask her to marry me.”

  Ellie’s mouth opens, her eyes growing wide. She drops the pot of pasta in the sink and jumps up and down, throwing her arms around him.

  “Oh my god! Something good has come out of this nightmare. Peter is your guardian angel, Will. He’s been guiding you toward happiness.”

  Will can’t disagree. He and Julia were reunited almost moments after his brother’s death. They both see Peter’s hand in this.

  “When are you asking her? Ahhhh, I’m so excited!”

  “Calm down, not tonight. I want to plan something special.”

  “Do you want me to help you pick out a ring?”

  He shakes his head and smiles.

  “I bought her a ring years ago.”

  Will is with Liam at the park while Julia is grocery shopping
. It’s late Sunday morning and a beautiful fall day. The trees have begun to turn brilliant autumn colors, but it’s still warm enough they don’t need to wear coats. He’s smiling as he pushes Liam on the swing, thinking how his entire life has turned around in the best possible ways since that awful day.

  Two weeks ago he was miserable, in a loveless marriage, and feeling trapped. He never imagined he’d see Julia again, let alone be with her. In the past he would have been overcome with guilt for being happy in this time of grief, but not now. He feels Peter’s presence every day and his brother has given him the courage to live the life he wants. His brother would want him to be happy. Will closes his eyes in gratitude.

  Thank you, Peter.

  “Higher! Higher!” Liam calls out and Will obliges.

  “Your son looks just like you.” The woman pushing her daughter on the next swing over smiles and says, “How old is he?”

  He likes the sound of that. My son.

  “He’s four.”

  “I’m five!” Liam shouts.

  Will frowns. He’s sure Julia told him Liam is four. The woman beside him raises an eyebrow.

  “He’s not my son,” he explains.

  “Oh!” She seems confused, “You’re not his father? Are you his uncle? He’s the spitting image of you. Really! His eyes, his nose… everything!”

  My spitting image… he’s five…

  “Yes,” he slowly nods his head, “We’re related.”

  “I thought so. He’s adorable.” She smiles and joins her daughter at the jungle gym.

  Will stops pushing the swing and stares at Liam. Is it possible…?

  “Hey!” Liam cries out and pumps his legs to get some extra height. “Don’t stop!”

  “Liam…” Will moves to the side of the swing, “When’s your birthday?”

  “August 3rd”

  Doing the calculations in his head, he asks, “You turned five in August?”

  “Uh huh, I had a big birthday party at Nana and Papas. There was a bouncy house and everything!”