Assignment: "Sometimes next door seemed like
such a long walk, especially when..."
I
was standing at the gate of our adjoining yards looking across the 90-foot
expanse to Martha’s house. Martha Everest
and I grew up as best friends; born three months apart, we went to grade school
and high school together in Greenwich, Connecticut. We then went on to Business College where she met her husband to
be, Garry Scott. In mid- summer between
our final semesters, a drunken driver lost control of his car, jumped over the
median on the Connecticut Turnpike and collided head-on with her parent’s car,
killing them instantly. After
graduation, I was the best man at Martha’s wedding and they moved into Martha’s
home where they have lived for the past 14 years.
Soon
after their wedding I moved to Hartford where I got a job and worked my way up
to a position of computer analyst. I have not married because I have yet to
meet anyone that can measure up to my first love, Martha. When my father died
eight years ago and my mother fell ill, I returned home to look after her. I
set up an office in the basement and now work as an independent computer
programmer.
I
was sitting in front of my computer with the third cup of coffee beside the
mouse pad preparing to continue work on my latest assignment when I heard and
saw the news. It is September 9, 2001 and my 12-inch TV monitor displayed the
terrifying spectacle of the first plane crashing into the side of the World
Trade Center building. At first I did not give it any credence because I
thought it was just another preview of a Hollywood disaster movie. It was not
until I noticed the word “LIVE’ in the corner of the screen that I turned up
the volume and started to pay attention.
When
I finally realized it was actually happening, I immediately thought of Garry,
because he worked in one of those two buildings. He always left early every
morning and drove the 10 miles to the train station from where he commuted to
the City. I sat dumbfounded in disbelief until I saw the second plane crash
into the building and then thought of Martha; what if she is looking at this
horrific spectacle. I ran up the cellar stairs, out the door, and across the
yard to the gate. How many times during my youth had I joyously traversed these
150 yards? Martha, my friend and companion was always glad to see me. As
children we played together, as teens we practiced hugging and kissing with
thoughts of one day…. Now as adults,
the three of us respect each other’s status; and we have always remained the
best of friends.
Now
as I stood at the gate of our adjoining yards looking across the 90-foot
expanse to Martha’s house, it appeared to be more like 90 miles. I knew I had to go to her, but what could I
say, what would I do? I was apprehensive with thoughts of my one and only love
Martha, along with fleeting anxiety of what she would do if something had
happened to Garry.
I
suppressed that thought as I started the slow, laborious trek across this so
familiar lawn. But this time was
different – this time
next door seemed like such a long walk, especially when I had no idea what I would find
when I got there. With each step
I took, my feet seem to get heavier and the house appeared to be getting
farther away. I didn’t think I would
ever get there. Then suddenly, as
though breaking out of a dream I was standing in front of the side door. I knocked softly.
Martha
opened the door and said, “Good morning, Phillip. What brings you here so early – run out of coffee?”
I
stood and stared at her but could say nothing.
“What’s
wrong?” She asked, “You’re as pale as….”
“You
haven’t heard the news?” I said, cutting her off.
“What
news? Come in and tell me.”
I
stepped into the kitchen and Garry was sitting at the breakfast table.
In
astonishment I exclaimed, “What are you doing here?”
Garry
said, “Thought I’d stay home today and see who comes calling on my wife while
I’m away,” and burst out laughing when Martha threw a dish towel at him.
“No,
seriously,” I asked, “why haven’t you gone to work?”
“Well,”
Garry said, “the damn car had a flat tire this morning so I missed the train. I
called in and told them I wouldn’t be there until later.”
“I
don’t think so.” I said as I went and switched on their TV.
Just
as the picture came on, the station was showing a replay of the second plane
crashing into the building.
“What
is this – a joke?” Garry asked.
“It’s
no joke,” I said.
“That’s
the Trade Center,” Garry exclaimed, “this can’t be happening!”
I
stated, “I’m afraid it is. I saw it a few minutes ago and it is no
dramatization. It is happening right
now; that’s why I came over.”
As
we stood watching the holocaust unfold, we remained silent until Martha said,
“Someone out there loves you almost as much as I do.”
“What
do you mean by that?” Garry asked.
“You
don’t suppose it was pure coincidence that you had a flat tire this morning, do
you?”