Post by syrinx on Jan 18, 2008 12:49:35 GMT -5
A DAY IN NEW YORK
1. Liquidity
It was a soft calm, the orange light filtering through the windows and into the barn. The dust that rose from the shed row glinted yellow in the air, drifting and slipping by the bodies of horses as they were led by. In the backside, horses stood in puddles as they were washed and rinsed, steam rising off their backs in the morning cool. People walked between the barns, along the rail of the track, in the grandstand. The horses turned circles along the strips of dirt and grass, their bodies streaked dark with sweat and their muscles bunching before every stride.
Cindy sat quietly on Queen City as they were led down from the barns, the small dark bay mare pricking her ears eagerly at the vast racetrack before her. Ryan walked silently next to the mare’s head, not bothering to hold on to her. The mare had her own ideas and her own presence, and did not need to be told where to go. Cindy only patted her dark neck and let her relax on the way.
When they set foot on the track, Queenie lifted herself, striding easily out to do her job. Cindy rose in the saddle, leaning over the mare’s withers for the jog. Today Cindy smiled into the air, feeling the September cool drift around them. It didn’t seem too long until fall, and she could almost smell the crisp scent as Queenie huffed softly, her legs beating out a repeating song.
Cindy gripped onto the rubber reins and let the mare go, lowering slowly over Queenie’s neck. The mare lengthened her stride automatically, her dark mane rising up with each leap of her strong, delicate legs. Rotating around the dirt oval, Queenie moved like the weathered professional she was, her bandaged forelegs striking out and carrying her home. When they appeared back by the gap, walking off the track and pausing just briefly to do a check on her legs, the mare was only slightly winded.
“Perfection,” Cindy summed it up in one word, jumping off the mare’s back and loosening the padded girth.
Queenie took a big breath and kicked out playfully, dancing away from Cindy as she held fast to the reins.
“Whoa,” Ryan murmured, putting a steady hand on the mare’s flank. At his touch, Queenie came to a hesitant stop, flicking her ears at Cindy before lowering her head and permitting them to move her on to the barns.
They walked slowly, ambling over the gravel, taking their time.
2. A Maiden
Inside the barn, through the gold dust in the air and the rays of light falling in rows and patches, a resounding crack broke the silence. Cindy lifted her head as they walked inside the barn, Queenie taking no notice as another crack of steel against wood shattered the morning.
“Bosta,” Ryan shrugged simply, as if it had become an easy guess. Bosta could be the only one to put up a fit about nothing in this barn. She was the only one who seemed displeased, rebellious, out of her element among her stable mates. Cindy took off her helmet and sighed.
“I’ll go look in on her,” she offered, letting Ryan go the rest of the way alone with Queenie, the bay mare shaking her tail back and forth, sashaying down the aisle. Cindy tugged off her windbreaker; the morning air was getting warmer. When she walked up to Bosta’s disheveled stall, she only had to sigh.
Bosta glared back, her dark brown eyes impatient, demanding. It was as if she wanted to know what Cindy thought she was doing, standing in her view.
“Alright, you,” Cindy said, pulling the filly’s halter and lead shank from the hooks on the wall. “Let’s dance, you and me.”
Bosta only snorted and shook her head, her wild black mane flinging haphazardly over her neck and landing in disarray along the curve of her dark chocolate neck. Cindy didn’t pay any attention to the filly’s protests, and slipped the halter over her muzzle, securely fastening the buckle before clipping on the lead. Bosta seemed to intend on leading the way out of the stall, but Cindy hauled back on the halter, catching the filly off guard, making her jump and tremble in frustration.
“No need to get all flighty,” Cindy murmured, walking with the filly out of the stall and down the shed row, out into the blinding white light. It was a gorgeous day, with the sun risen fully in the east, shining over blue skies. Bosta danced over the gravel, her tall body smoldering in the sun.
It was a battle of wills down to the sand pit, but Cindy won out in the end. Bosta snorted at her defeat, and Cindy quietly patted the filly’s shoulder as they walked. The sand was deep and inviting, and when Cindy released the filly into the enclosure the first thing Bosta did was troop to the center of the boarded pit and let loose a triumphant whinny. Cindy smiled softly, leaning against the fence while she watched Bosta drop to her knees and roll. It wasn’t like the filly had any accomplishments to feel triumphant about.
The dark filly rolled and struck up at the sky as she wriggled over the sand, her dark body becoming coated in dust. The look on her face was what Cindy loved most. In the filly’s dark eyes there was pure enjoyment, and that was one thing she rarely saw in Bosta.
“Cin,” she heard Ryan behind her, his arms still wet from Queenie’s bath. He was wiping his hands off on his jeans, and Cindy looked at him as he approached.
“Yeah?” she asked, turning from Bosta.
“Have you seen Jack anywhere?” he asked, stopping by the fence, his eyes on Bosta before turning to her.
“He had something to do in Manhattan,” Cindy shrugged. “Can’t recall what, though.”
“Manhattan,” Ryan said, murmuring it low in his throat.
“What?” Cindy asked, watching Ryan as he looked back at the sand pit, his hand resting hard against the fence. Cindy followed his gaze, and fell on Bosta. The filly was standing still in the sand, striking a pose found in children’s picture books, her eyes looking west.
3. Grainy Images
Cindy sat on the sofa, her cell phone gripped tightly in her hand.
“Dad,” she said softly. “I’m in Lucas’ office. No, I’m fine. I’ve been here all morning. Yeah, tell Mom that. I’m sure she’s nearly out of her mind. Yeah. Okay. I love you, too. Bye.”
Silently she pulled the phone away from her ear and pressed the end button, then started to dial again. She willed him to pick up, but did not get her wish. In a daze, she slid the phone back on the coffee table.
“Do they know what it was yet?” Laura asked, walking into the office. Cindy and Ryan looked up from the sofa, and Lucas shook his head. The office was steadily getting crowded, with grooms and exercise riders staring intently at the television. Laura made her way through them, sitting down between Ryan and Cindy.
“Have you heard from Jack?” she asked both of them. Cindy shook her head.
On the television, and not 25 miles away, smoke was rising in huge, dark plumes from one of the World Trade Center towers. Cindy couldn’t stop staring at it; it was too astonishing to turn away from. To her, it looked like a giant cigarette standing out on the New York horizon, burning endlessly into the perfect blue sky.
Then someone gasped. Cindy didn’t make a sound. A plane appeared, small and grainy, cutting across the television screen of the live image and into the second tower, exploding in a million flames.
“Good God,” Laura whispered as smoke began to pour up the sides of the second tower, eating up the windows and the steel until the building could no longer be seen behind it.
“Can you imagine…” Cindy heard someone mutter, their voice lowering in the pressing stunned silence. “That’s jet fuel,” said another. “An explosion like that…”
“Another plane crashed into the Pentagon, the Mall is on fire, the White House is being evacuated…”
Cindy stood up shakily, grabbing her cell phone from the table and pushing her way past the people who were crowded around the television set. Shoving her way through the door and out into the blissful Belmont morning, she squeezed her eyes shut. The world seemed to be crashing down around her, and the uncharacteristic quiet of the Belmont Park backside only made her blood run cold. She took several deep breaths and looked down at the cell phone. Again she dialed, and again there was no answer. She cursed loudly and sat down in the gravel outside the barn, wondering where he was.
Sitting in silence, Cindy pushed her fingers into her hair and tried to think about anything else. March to Glory, Wonder’s Champion, Samantha, Honor Bright, Whitebrook Farm, Ben, Max, Ashleigh Griffen, Glory’s Joy…but none of them held her interest long enough to subdue her wild pulse. She was scared, and what scared her even more was that she simply didn’t know what was happening.
“Cindy,” she heard Laura above her, and she looked up. She suddenly realized how long she had been outside, ignoring the gasps and the noises from within the barn.
She looked up at Laura, not saying a word.
“You need to see this,” she said, nodding to the office.
Cindy pushed herself up, following Laura into the barn and the office, stopping in the doorway. She stared at the image on the screen before grabbing Laura’s arm.
“We have to get out of here,” she said, urgently. “Laura, we have to go home.”
Her roommate looked at her questioningly, but then seemed to realize and nodded. “I’ll get Ryan.”
“I’ll get my stuff together,” Cindy said, turning her back on the image and running down the aisle to her things in the tack room. On the television, the twin towers were collapsing and Manhattan could not be seen behind the rising cloud of dust.
4. Ferryman
Cindy stared out at the banks of windows, telling herself that she wasn’t going to start feeling desperate. In front of her, Manhattan could only be seen through the wisps of space in the rising dust. It seemed as though there was no Manhattan, and the bridges that spiked off of New Jersey and Brooklyn were leading to nowhere.
“Cin, you’ve got to stop staring at it,” Laura said, playing a game of Gin with Ryan. “We just have to sit and wait.”
“People are coming across the bridge,” Cindy said, almost to herself.
“And we’re going to wait,” Laura repeated. “Sit down, Cin.”
Reluctantly, Cindy walked over to them, sat down on the sofa, and waited. She did not want to play cards, and she didn’t want to watch the television, which seemed to have been taken over in every aspect by the tragedies. She could only sit and think, trying to come up with scenarios in her head as to why he wasn’t calling her.
She couldn’t remember why he had left Belmont early. Now she was unsure if she even ever knew. Audrey worked in Manhattan, but far from the World Trade Center. Jack lived just north of Wall Street, which would be choked by the dust but otherwise unharmed. He should be all right, she reasoned. He would be all right. There was no reason to worry; there just wasn’t.
An hour ticked by, and Cindy couldn’t resist calling again, getting no answer. She couldn’t resist looking out the windows, either, and started to watch Manhattan again, ignoring Laura’s pleas for her to stop. She couldn’t resist the feeling, no matter how hard she tried, that something horrible had happened.
Then there came a knock on the door, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.
Laura and Ryan looked up quickly, but Cindy was already in motion, sprinting for the door. She yanked the deadbolts back and hauled the door open, letting out the breath she was holding. In a rush she threw herself at him, colliding with him so hard he had to take a step backward into the hallway to steady them. He put his arms around her waist, holding onto her silently as she clung to his shoulders and burrowed her face into his neck. Both seemed oblivious as Ryan and Laura looked on, walking up to wait their turn to welcome Jack back to the world of the living.
“God, I thought you were gone,” she told him, feeling better as she said it. He wasn’t gone. He was standing right there in her doorway, alive in front of her.
He tightened his hold on her, neither of them concerned at what it looked like or how well they knew each other. They had only met a month ago, but now it seemed like so many years in one day.
“I have to admit,” he said quietly, “so did I.”
She pulled back slowly, letting her arms fall off of him to let him inside. Only then did she realize how horrible he looked, dirty and soaked through. She didn’t ask questions as he hugged Laura and traded an inappropriate joke with Ryan, getting back to what remained of the usual.
“Phones working here?” Jack asked, and Cindy nodded. He picked up the cordless and promptly dialed a number. Cindy looked away, back out the window when she realized Audrey had picked up the other end.
“Is she alright?” Cindy asked some time later as Jack put the phone down, rubbing his hands through dirty, damp hair.
“She’s fine,” he said, shaking his head. “She’s going to stay up in White Plains tonight with a friend.”
“Good,” Ryan said. “You want to bunk up here? I’m not moving.”
Jack looked at Laura, who shrugged. “You’re more than welcome. The sofa is extremely comfortable.”
At that a wry smile crept up Jack’s face and he nodded. “In that case, I look forward to it. That and a shower.”
“Be my guest,” Laura said, nodding down the studio apartment. “You can wash those clothes here. Just leave them in the bathroom.”
“You need new ones,” Ryan said, walking up to the duffel he had pulled out of Laura’s trunk, opening it up and finding a pair of jeans and a clean t-shirt. He threw them to Jack, who caught them and gave Ryan a look. Cindy looked back at Jack, and back at Ryan, supposing the two men were probably just the same size.
“Thanks,” Jack nodded, before disappearing without another word.
5. Who They Are
The showerhead had been turned off, but Cindy didn’t hear it. She stood on her balcony, letting the remains of the warm summer finger through her hair. She had her eyes closed, because the view was no longer something she could get lost in. At the sound of her bathroom door opening, she turned and opened her eyes, watching the figure that walked out with a plume of steam.
As it turned out, the jeans fit perfectly. She smiled at that, wondering how long Ryan and Jack had known each other before they figured something like that out.
He noticed her fleeting smile, and returned it, although she could tell it was just for her sake. He had a towel in one hand, rubbing it vigorously over his hair, and a gray shirt in the other. Unabashedly fascinated, she watched him toss the used towel on her unmade bed and pull the shirt over his head. He looked down at the floor, as though he was staring at his bare feet.
“Jack?” she asked him. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah,” he nodded. “I was just thinking that people were handing out running shoes on the streets.”
“I heard that,” she said softly, standing quietly in the doorway to her balcony, waiting on him. “That sort of stuff amazes me,” she admitted.
He didn’t say anything, so she pushed forward. “What happened?”
“Got stuck,” he said simply, and Cindy opened her mouth to say something before he cut her off. “The red line runs underneath those buildings. I didn’t know it at the time, but the first tower was about to come down and the train stopped. It just stopped on the tracks underneath the building.”
Cindy stared at him quietly, not saying anything. “We got out in time to see the first one come down.”
“Where were you?” Cindy asked.
“At that point, I was south of the towers. When the second one came down, the dust was so thick
I had to wait for it to clear. Then I came across the bridge, and anyone who had been in the dust was decontaminated just on the other side in Brooklyn. So, that’s the short story, I guess.”
“You’re okay?” Cindy asked, not moving. She watched him run his hand through towel-dried hair and nod.
“Yeah, I’m okay,” he said, finally shifting forward and walking up to her, standing out on the balcony to watch Manhattan. Cindy finally turned to it as well, watching the cloud of dust as it settled over the buildings, stretching out to Liberty Island.
“You can stay here as long as you have to,” Cindy told him, looking down at his hand as he watched the horizon. He nodded. Cindy quietly slipped her hand into his, squeezing it to feel the life in him, to send a message. He glanced over at her, and saw her smile at him. She could see him let out a breath before he pulled her over to him and hugged her. She pressed her nose against his chest and then looked up at him and the blue Brooklyn sky.
He turned them away from Manhattan, looking south. They were quiet, realizing the need for silence. Cindy closed her eyes and felt the sun beat down around them, the loud sounds of Brooklyn drifting up under the balcony. When she opened her eyes all she could see was the blue sky and Brooklyn, and all she could hear was the beating of Jack’s heart. From there it was summer, and a beautiful day in New York.
1. Liquidity
It was a soft calm, the orange light filtering through the windows and into the barn. The dust that rose from the shed row glinted yellow in the air, drifting and slipping by the bodies of horses as they were led by. In the backside, horses stood in puddles as they were washed and rinsed, steam rising off their backs in the morning cool. People walked between the barns, along the rail of the track, in the grandstand. The horses turned circles along the strips of dirt and grass, their bodies streaked dark with sweat and their muscles bunching before every stride.
Cindy sat quietly on Queen City as they were led down from the barns, the small dark bay mare pricking her ears eagerly at the vast racetrack before her. Ryan walked silently next to the mare’s head, not bothering to hold on to her. The mare had her own ideas and her own presence, and did not need to be told where to go. Cindy only patted her dark neck and let her relax on the way.
When they set foot on the track, Queenie lifted herself, striding easily out to do her job. Cindy rose in the saddle, leaning over the mare’s withers for the jog. Today Cindy smiled into the air, feeling the September cool drift around them. It didn’t seem too long until fall, and she could almost smell the crisp scent as Queenie huffed softly, her legs beating out a repeating song.
Cindy gripped onto the rubber reins and let the mare go, lowering slowly over Queenie’s neck. The mare lengthened her stride automatically, her dark mane rising up with each leap of her strong, delicate legs. Rotating around the dirt oval, Queenie moved like the weathered professional she was, her bandaged forelegs striking out and carrying her home. When they appeared back by the gap, walking off the track and pausing just briefly to do a check on her legs, the mare was only slightly winded.
“Perfection,” Cindy summed it up in one word, jumping off the mare’s back and loosening the padded girth.
Queenie took a big breath and kicked out playfully, dancing away from Cindy as she held fast to the reins.
“Whoa,” Ryan murmured, putting a steady hand on the mare’s flank. At his touch, Queenie came to a hesitant stop, flicking her ears at Cindy before lowering her head and permitting them to move her on to the barns.
They walked slowly, ambling over the gravel, taking their time.
2. A Maiden
Inside the barn, through the gold dust in the air and the rays of light falling in rows and patches, a resounding crack broke the silence. Cindy lifted her head as they walked inside the barn, Queenie taking no notice as another crack of steel against wood shattered the morning.
“Bosta,” Ryan shrugged simply, as if it had become an easy guess. Bosta could be the only one to put up a fit about nothing in this barn. She was the only one who seemed displeased, rebellious, out of her element among her stable mates. Cindy took off her helmet and sighed.
“I’ll go look in on her,” she offered, letting Ryan go the rest of the way alone with Queenie, the bay mare shaking her tail back and forth, sashaying down the aisle. Cindy tugged off her windbreaker; the morning air was getting warmer. When she walked up to Bosta’s disheveled stall, she only had to sigh.
Bosta glared back, her dark brown eyes impatient, demanding. It was as if she wanted to know what Cindy thought she was doing, standing in her view.
“Alright, you,” Cindy said, pulling the filly’s halter and lead shank from the hooks on the wall. “Let’s dance, you and me.”
Bosta only snorted and shook her head, her wild black mane flinging haphazardly over her neck and landing in disarray along the curve of her dark chocolate neck. Cindy didn’t pay any attention to the filly’s protests, and slipped the halter over her muzzle, securely fastening the buckle before clipping on the lead. Bosta seemed to intend on leading the way out of the stall, but Cindy hauled back on the halter, catching the filly off guard, making her jump and tremble in frustration.
“No need to get all flighty,” Cindy murmured, walking with the filly out of the stall and down the shed row, out into the blinding white light. It was a gorgeous day, with the sun risen fully in the east, shining over blue skies. Bosta danced over the gravel, her tall body smoldering in the sun.
It was a battle of wills down to the sand pit, but Cindy won out in the end. Bosta snorted at her defeat, and Cindy quietly patted the filly’s shoulder as they walked. The sand was deep and inviting, and when Cindy released the filly into the enclosure the first thing Bosta did was troop to the center of the boarded pit and let loose a triumphant whinny. Cindy smiled softly, leaning against the fence while she watched Bosta drop to her knees and roll. It wasn’t like the filly had any accomplishments to feel triumphant about.
The dark filly rolled and struck up at the sky as she wriggled over the sand, her dark body becoming coated in dust. The look on her face was what Cindy loved most. In the filly’s dark eyes there was pure enjoyment, and that was one thing she rarely saw in Bosta.
“Cin,” she heard Ryan behind her, his arms still wet from Queenie’s bath. He was wiping his hands off on his jeans, and Cindy looked at him as he approached.
“Yeah?” she asked, turning from Bosta.
“Have you seen Jack anywhere?” he asked, stopping by the fence, his eyes on Bosta before turning to her.
“He had something to do in Manhattan,” Cindy shrugged. “Can’t recall what, though.”
“Manhattan,” Ryan said, murmuring it low in his throat.
“What?” Cindy asked, watching Ryan as he looked back at the sand pit, his hand resting hard against the fence. Cindy followed his gaze, and fell on Bosta. The filly was standing still in the sand, striking a pose found in children’s picture books, her eyes looking west.
3. Grainy Images
Cindy sat on the sofa, her cell phone gripped tightly in her hand.
“Dad,” she said softly. “I’m in Lucas’ office. No, I’m fine. I’ve been here all morning. Yeah, tell Mom that. I’m sure she’s nearly out of her mind. Yeah. Okay. I love you, too. Bye.”
Silently she pulled the phone away from her ear and pressed the end button, then started to dial again. She willed him to pick up, but did not get her wish. In a daze, she slid the phone back on the coffee table.
“Do they know what it was yet?” Laura asked, walking into the office. Cindy and Ryan looked up from the sofa, and Lucas shook his head. The office was steadily getting crowded, with grooms and exercise riders staring intently at the television. Laura made her way through them, sitting down between Ryan and Cindy.
“Have you heard from Jack?” she asked both of them. Cindy shook her head.
On the television, and not 25 miles away, smoke was rising in huge, dark plumes from one of the World Trade Center towers. Cindy couldn’t stop staring at it; it was too astonishing to turn away from. To her, it looked like a giant cigarette standing out on the New York horizon, burning endlessly into the perfect blue sky.
Then someone gasped. Cindy didn’t make a sound. A plane appeared, small and grainy, cutting across the television screen of the live image and into the second tower, exploding in a million flames.
“Good God,” Laura whispered as smoke began to pour up the sides of the second tower, eating up the windows and the steel until the building could no longer be seen behind it.
“Can you imagine…” Cindy heard someone mutter, their voice lowering in the pressing stunned silence. “That’s jet fuel,” said another. “An explosion like that…”
“Another plane crashed into the Pentagon, the Mall is on fire, the White House is being evacuated…”
Cindy stood up shakily, grabbing her cell phone from the table and pushing her way past the people who were crowded around the television set. Shoving her way through the door and out into the blissful Belmont morning, she squeezed her eyes shut. The world seemed to be crashing down around her, and the uncharacteristic quiet of the Belmont Park backside only made her blood run cold. She took several deep breaths and looked down at the cell phone. Again she dialed, and again there was no answer. She cursed loudly and sat down in the gravel outside the barn, wondering where he was.
Sitting in silence, Cindy pushed her fingers into her hair and tried to think about anything else. March to Glory, Wonder’s Champion, Samantha, Honor Bright, Whitebrook Farm, Ben, Max, Ashleigh Griffen, Glory’s Joy…but none of them held her interest long enough to subdue her wild pulse. She was scared, and what scared her even more was that she simply didn’t know what was happening.
“Cindy,” she heard Laura above her, and she looked up. She suddenly realized how long she had been outside, ignoring the gasps and the noises from within the barn.
She looked up at Laura, not saying a word.
“You need to see this,” she said, nodding to the office.
Cindy pushed herself up, following Laura into the barn and the office, stopping in the doorway. She stared at the image on the screen before grabbing Laura’s arm.
“We have to get out of here,” she said, urgently. “Laura, we have to go home.”
Her roommate looked at her questioningly, but then seemed to realize and nodded. “I’ll get Ryan.”
“I’ll get my stuff together,” Cindy said, turning her back on the image and running down the aisle to her things in the tack room. On the television, the twin towers were collapsing and Manhattan could not be seen behind the rising cloud of dust.
4. Ferryman
Cindy stared out at the banks of windows, telling herself that she wasn’t going to start feeling desperate. In front of her, Manhattan could only be seen through the wisps of space in the rising dust. It seemed as though there was no Manhattan, and the bridges that spiked off of New Jersey and Brooklyn were leading to nowhere.
“Cin, you’ve got to stop staring at it,” Laura said, playing a game of Gin with Ryan. “We just have to sit and wait.”
“People are coming across the bridge,” Cindy said, almost to herself.
“And we’re going to wait,” Laura repeated. “Sit down, Cin.”
Reluctantly, Cindy walked over to them, sat down on the sofa, and waited. She did not want to play cards, and she didn’t want to watch the television, which seemed to have been taken over in every aspect by the tragedies. She could only sit and think, trying to come up with scenarios in her head as to why he wasn’t calling her.
She couldn’t remember why he had left Belmont early. Now she was unsure if she even ever knew. Audrey worked in Manhattan, but far from the World Trade Center. Jack lived just north of Wall Street, which would be choked by the dust but otherwise unharmed. He should be all right, she reasoned. He would be all right. There was no reason to worry; there just wasn’t.
An hour ticked by, and Cindy couldn’t resist calling again, getting no answer. She couldn’t resist looking out the windows, either, and started to watch Manhattan again, ignoring Laura’s pleas for her to stop. She couldn’t resist the feeling, no matter how hard she tried, that something horrible had happened.
Then there came a knock on the door, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.
Laura and Ryan looked up quickly, but Cindy was already in motion, sprinting for the door. She yanked the deadbolts back and hauled the door open, letting out the breath she was holding. In a rush she threw herself at him, colliding with him so hard he had to take a step backward into the hallway to steady them. He put his arms around her waist, holding onto her silently as she clung to his shoulders and burrowed her face into his neck. Both seemed oblivious as Ryan and Laura looked on, walking up to wait their turn to welcome Jack back to the world of the living.
“God, I thought you were gone,” she told him, feeling better as she said it. He wasn’t gone. He was standing right there in her doorway, alive in front of her.
He tightened his hold on her, neither of them concerned at what it looked like or how well they knew each other. They had only met a month ago, but now it seemed like so many years in one day.
“I have to admit,” he said quietly, “so did I.”
She pulled back slowly, letting her arms fall off of him to let him inside. Only then did she realize how horrible he looked, dirty and soaked through. She didn’t ask questions as he hugged Laura and traded an inappropriate joke with Ryan, getting back to what remained of the usual.
“Phones working here?” Jack asked, and Cindy nodded. He picked up the cordless and promptly dialed a number. Cindy looked away, back out the window when she realized Audrey had picked up the other end.
“Is she alright?” Cindy asked some time later as Jack put the phone down, rubbing his hands through dirty, damp hair.
“She’s fine,” he said, shaking his head. “She’s going to stay up in White Plains tonight with a friend.”
“Good,” Ryan said. “You want to bunk up here? I’m not moving.”
Jack looked at Laura, who shrugged. “You’re more than welcome. The sofa is extremely comfortable.”
At that a wry smile crept up Jack’s face and he nodded. “In that case, I look forward to it. That and a shower.”
“Be my guest,” Laura said, nodding down the studio apartment. “You can wash those clothes here. Just leave them in the bathroom.”
“You need new ones,” Ryan said, walking up to the duffel he had pulled out of Laura’s trunk, opening it up and finding a pair of jeans and a clean t-shirt. He threw them to Jack, who caught them and gave Ryan a look. Cindy looked back at Jack, and back at Ryan, supposing the two men were probably just the same size.
“Thanks,” Jack nodded, before disappearing without another word.
5. Who They Are
The showerhead had been turned off, but Cindy didn’t hear it. She stood on her balcony, letting the remains of the warm summer finger through her hair. She had her eyes closed, because the view was no longer something she could get lost in. At the sound of her bathroom door opening, she turned and opened her eyes, watching the figure that walked out with a plume of steam.
As it turned out, the jeans fit perfectly. She smiled at that, wondering how long Ryan and Jack had known each other before they figured something like that out.
He noticed her fleeting smile, and returned it, although she could tell it was just for her sake. He had a towel in one hand, rubbing it vigorously over his hair, and a gray shirt in the other. Unabashedly fascinated, she watched him toss the used towel on her unmade bed and pull the shirt over his head. He looked down at the floor, as though he was staring at his bare feet.
“Jack?” she asked him. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah,” he nodded. “I was just thinking that people were handing out running shoes on the streets.”
“I heard that,” she said softly, standing quietly in the doorway to her balcony, waiting on him. “That sort of stuff amazes me,” she admitted.
He didn’t say anything, so she pushed forward. “What happened?”
“Got stuck,” he said simply, and Cindy opened her mouth to say something before he cut her off. “The red line runs underneath those buildings. I didn’t know it at the time, but the first tower was about to come down and the train stopped. It just stopped on the tracks underneath the building.”
Cindy stared at him quietly, not saying anything. “We got out in time to see the first one come down.”
“Where were you?” Cindy asked.
“At that point, I was south of the towers. When the second one came down, the dust was so thick
I had to wait for it to clear. Then I came across the bridge, and anyone who had been in the dust was decontaminated just on the other side in Brooklyn. So, that’s the short story, I guess.”
“You’re okay?” Cindy asked, not moving. She watched him run his hand through towel-dried hair and nod.
“Yeah, I’m okay,” he said, finally shifting forward and walking up to her, standing out on the balcony to watch Manhattan. Cindy finally turned to it as well, watching the cloud of dust as it settled over the buildings, stretching out to Liberty Island.
“You can stay here as long as you have to,” Cindy told him, looking down at his hand as he watched the horizon. He nodded. Cindy quietly slipped her hand into his, squeezing it to feel the life in him, to send a message. He glanced over at her, and saw her smile at him. She could see him let out a breath before he pulled her over to him and hugged her. She pressed her nose against his chest and then looked up at him and the blue Brooklyn sky.
He turned them away from Manhattan, looking south. They were quiet, realizing the need for silence. Cindy closed her eyes and felt the sun beat down around them, the loud sounds of Brooklyn drifting up under the balcony. When she opened her eyes all she could see was the blue sky and Brooklyn, and all she could hear was the beating of Jack’s heart. From there it was summer, and a beautiful day in New York.
