September 11th, 2016 – The 15th anniversary of 9/11

David did not like looking at the calendar. As he lay awake on the bed staring at the ceiling he relived the chaos. He smelled the smoke, heard the jumpers smashing through glass, and felt the rumble as the towers fell. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the memory. TV, Internet, newspapers, magazines; 9/11 would be everywhere. On Monday people would be discussing the anniversary by the water cooler. Then they would move on. There would be no escape for him.

He reluctantly rolled out of bed and took a shower. As he dried his body he looked at it in the mirror, particularly focusing on his abs. He had worked hard for them after years of being overweight. There would be no mistaking him for that person any longer. He made sure the door was closed then gritted his teeth, flexing his muscles like the Incredible Hulk. He chuckled as he put gel in his short curly dark blond hair. He looked at his reflection in the mirror, turning from side to side, his brown eyes taking himself in. Not bad for 38 he thought.

He lathered up his face with shaving cream. He didn’t normally shave on weekends, but this day was different. As he shaved he heard the TV on in the other room. He could hear pundits giving their opinion on ‘the event’ as he referred to it. Suddenly he heard sirens. The noise started to grow unbearably loud in his head. Then he realized the sound was coming from outside. The sirens faded away, headed towards a less monumental disaster than the one Melanie was watching about on TV.

He rinsed his face and patted it dry then reached for the toothpaste. As he brushed he concentrated on his gums as the dentist had recommended then carefully flossed. Once finished he took a swig of mouthwash and slowly swished it around his mouth, following the directions on the bottle. He had done more personal grooming than necessary on a Sunday in order to postpone going into the living room. No excuse now, he thought. His girlfriend Melanie Davis sat on the couch, tissue in hand, legs curled up underneath her watching the ceremony marking the 15th anniversary of the September 11th attacks. She was so engrossed she didn’t notice him standing there. He sat down beside her and looked at the TV; not wanting to watch but drawn to the coverage.

The ceremony held in New York City at the World Trade Centre site. He’d never been back there but he liked the new buildings. The camera scanned over the memorials two peaceful waterfalls which filled the footprints of the original buildings. Then the President spoke on a podium in front of the museum. It was an eloquent speech, in-dispersed with images of the flag, war veterans standing at attention, and people clutching framed photos of their lost loved ones. He looked closely at the children, most now teenagers, and wondered if she would be there. He looked at Melanie who was still absorbed in the ceremony. The President’s speech was concluding and now it was time for the loved ones to read the names of their son, daughter, father, brother, mother, sister, husband, wife, friend, cousin, aunt, uncle, grandparent, grandchild, boyfriend, girlfriend, or life-partner.

He stifled a yawn as they read the 2,750 names. The reading was interrupted four times when bells tolled the exact minute the planes crashed into the buildings and exact minute they collapsed. He listened to each person imbruing the simple act of saying their loved one’s name with profundity. Bored and awkward teenagers suddenly became appropriately solemn and focused. He knew that he should be too but years of pushing the event to the back of his mind had given him the ability to disassociate himself. It took him years to be able to read about the tragedy let alone talk about it. He tried unsuccessfully to ignore newspapers and magazines on the anniversary. Take extra long coffee breaks when people started discussing it at work. He rarely if ever watched these events on television. He didn’t see the point.

He wondered if he would recognize her. It had been 15 years since he’s last seen Angelica. He listened to the names, not sure if he wanted to continue watching. He wanted to look away but was unable to. This might be the only chance he would have to see her again. The tension inside of him was unbearable and he thought about getting up and leaving the room. No he had to stay. Just then a young girl came up to the podium. She stood with tears in her eyes and read a name.

“Michael David Walker Peterson.”

“It’s so sad” Melanie said, moved by the sight of the girl.

“Yeah” David said, trying to blink away the tears as he looked at his daughter.

Angelica Peterson scowled petulantly. She did not want to go onto the podium. It was not nerves. Her father’s name meant little to her. It was just a name; as it always would be on her family tree. He was a stranger to her. If they were to meet on the street, she thought, and then reminded herself that it would never happen. The searchers had found his ID amongst the debris but no body. She wondered how he died. Did he get crushed? Did he jump? Did he get incinerated by the intense heat? Macabre questions of endless fascination to her. Or did he die a hero, rescuing people only to go back inside the buildings for others? She couldn’t decide which scenario sounded more tragic. Her Sometimes she romanticized her father, even if no one else around her did.

Each year she dreaded these types of events. Since she was very young she had been trotted out; announcing her father’s name even before she could spell her own. She had been labeled America’s Sweetheart. Sometimes she thought the people who run these shows wanted children to announce the names. A widow who had remarried less than a year after her husband’s death was not as poignant. When she figured out her mom had married her dad’s best friend she thought that was gross. She had been less than two years old when the marriage happened. For as long as she could remember Tom Evans had been her father and she’d never called him anything other than dad. It was natural and she never felt she was dishonoring her dead father by doing so. She envied her younger sister and two brothers; they didn’t have to deal with the September 11th stuff.

Her mom never talked about her father and couldn’t be drawn to. And Angelica had been so young when he’d died that she had no memory of him. If it weren’t for these events he wouldn’t be on her radar. He was gone. That’s the way it had always been.

Tom came up behind her. “Ready to go up?” he asked gently.

Angelica looked at him and nodded. She stepped onto the podium and up to the microphone. Unlike other years she was now old enough to understand what this day meant. People had died where she stood; her father was one of them. It wasn’t just a section in text books; it was part of her history. This thought brought tears to her eyes. She spoke her father’s name slowly and deliberately.

“Michael David Walker Peterson.”

#

Each of the four names pounded his head like a sledge hammer as David watched his daughter on television. He was proud of her. It couldn’t have been easy to appear in front of millions of people. At the same age he would have fumbled over his words. He noticed that she had tears in her eyes when she said his name. Anyone watching couldn’t fail to be touched by the sight.

He marveled at how she’d changed. Had she not read his name he wouldn’t have recognized her. She had grown into a passably attractive young woman. She was his daughter but it was true. Any hopes that she would look like her mother were dashed. She had his hair, blonde, curly and a bit on the frizzy side. He noted her oval face and athletic build. He didn’t know where that had come from; it wasn’t from his side or her mother’s. Before he could observe her further she stepped from the podium and was gone.

David recalled her birth. Any resentment towards Penny’s pregnancy vanished when she was born. It was the most disgusting yet moving moment he’d ever witnessed. As a baby Angelica had wisps of blonde hair and large blue eyes. Whether they had turned his brown or her mother’s hazel he couldn’t tell. She must have been an adorable toddler. Then he thought of all of the missed moments he would never get back: first smile, first word, first step, and first day of school. He was probably just a photograph to her. A connection to a tragic historical event, remembered less for who he was than how he died.

Sometimes he found himself wondering about Penny and Angelica. What their lives were like now. He wondered if she was still married to Tom. David had never assumed that Penny would pine after his memory but he didn’t expect her to remarry so soon. Maybe Tom eased the pain, he thought bitterly. Knowing that Tom had taken his place relieved him of some guilt. She was well taken care of so there was no need to contemplate how difficult it must have been in the direct aftermath of his disappearance. Tom was there for her and had been more frequently than her husband would have preferred. At the time she had been suffering from post-natal depression. He had looked on helplessly after Angelica’s birth. The woman he had known was different. She had changed. He tried to help but it was never enough. He felt as though he was in the way. She was overwhelmed and leaving couldn’t have made it easier. But he didn’t want to think about that. Instead he thought of Angelica. She was now a teenager, in high school, into boys, and probably learning to drive. This thought made David nervous, although he didn’t know why.

This was one of reasons he didn’t want to have another child. It would only remind him of what he’d missed all of these years. What right did he have to bring another one into this world when he had rejected the one he had? Besides, children wanted to know about their history; it would lead to uncomfortable questions about the past. He would have to invent a false family tree to go with the identity he had adopted. An identity which did not include parents, aunts, uncles, cousins or grandparents.

But Melanie wanted a commitment. She especially wanted children. He’d noticed the look of longing in her eyes when she was around a baby. After five years she had a right to know where their relationship was going. He’d never told her in so many words but as much as he loved her, he didn’t want to get married, let alone have a child. If it became a deal-breaker then so be it. Melanie got up and walked around the couch. She stopped and bent over David and put her arms around him.

“Want some breakfast?” Melanie whispered in his ear, interrupting his thoughts at a convenient time.

“No, I want you” David said, turning off the TV and turning to kiss her. Melanie was such a wonderful woman. He was one lucky man.

No use living in the past he thought, leading her into the bedroom.

Everyone Who Knew Me

“It was a controlled demolition.” Jack said authoritatively. “It was an inside job.”

The sirens reverberated in David’s head and he almost welcomed the distraction. Jack was the resident 9/11 conspiracy theorist. He didn’t look like a typical conspiracy theorist; living in his mother’s basement with too much time on his hands. David hated listening to Jack’s conspiracy theories. They did nothing but minimize the tragedy. No, no, no, don’t do it David thought. These people can’t be reasoned with. David ignored his own advice and stood up. He walked over to Jack. They were the same height and he looked Jack in the eye. David knew he was coming across as confrontational but he’d had enough.

“And how about all of the people who were in the towers? Were they in on it too?”

“Some of them were.”

“Even some of those that died?”

“Every cause has to have a few martyrs.” Jack said. He was somewhat taken aback by David’s demeanor.

“2,750 martyrs?”

“It was inevitable that innocent people would die.”

“So if people put explosives into the building. How did they do this without attracting attention?”

“They did it over several weeks. People would have thought it was some construction work.”

“So people carrying large quantities of explosives would have gone unnoticed?”

“They did it at night.”

“And then some planes flew into the towers?”

“Yes, the explosives were the backup plan if the planes didn’t destroy the buildings.”

“And out of all the hundreds of people it took to carry this plan out no one involved has ever breathed a word?”

“You seem to be taking this personally David.” Jack said. He’d never been confronted in his viewpoint before. Maybe it was safer to keep these discussions to message boards.

David hesitated. Should he or shouldn’t he make it personal?

“I knew people in those buildings.” He finally said. “Discussing conspiracy theories minimizes their deaths, as far as I’m concerned.”

“The U.S. government is involved in a massive cover-up with 9/11. Believing the lies they feed us dishonors the memory of those that died. Don’t they deserve the truth?” Jack said, emboldened.

“Engineers have discounted the controlled demolition theory.”

“They’re in on it too.” Jack said, gathering more confidence. David felt like throttling him.

“I suppose you believe in shape-shifting reptilian humanoids too.”

“Who do you think was on the 9/11 Commission? They’re everywhere.”

Uncomfortable co-workers backed away slowly. Fred remained and put his hand between them to defuse the situation.

“You know David, maybe we should get some fresh air,” he said, taking David’s arm.

David gave up reluctantly. He had been looking forward to putting Jack in his place once and for all. But talking to someone like Jack was on par with talking to Mohammed Al Fayed about the white Fiat Uno. The mysterious car rumored to be involved in the death of his son, Dodi and Diana, Princess of Wales. Conspiracy theorists can’t be reasoned with.

#

Fred and David were silent in the elevator as they headed to street level. He didn’t know Fred very well but he stood with him while he smoked, not noticing Fred offering him a cigarette.

David looked up at the sky so similar to the one on 9/11. Whenever he saw a clear blue sky he couldn’t help but think of the event. How such a beautiful morning could be a backdrop for extreme hatred. Inside the buildings he could not know the full extent of the tragedy. The devastating images of the building collapsing made the event so much bigger. Watching the footage afterwards it was a miracle that anyone survived.

“You can’t let people like Jack get to you,” Fred said, almost absently. Thankfully interrupting David’s thoughts; in the early years it was easy to become consumed by the memories of the day. He’d always been at risk. He knew he should have sought psychiatric help but what would a therapist say when they found out the truth?

“Yes, you’re right. I should have known better but I’d had enough of listening to him expound on a topic he has no understanding of.

“You said you were there?” Fred said, cautiously.

“Yeah,” David desperately wanted to talk about the day, with someone, anyone but knew that once he opened the flood gates there was no closing them. He looked at Fred. He seemed to be deciding what to say next.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he said finally.

“Not today.”

Fred seemed disappointed but David didn’t feel it was up to him to indulge his curiosity.

“Should we go back?”

“Yeah but promise me you won’t get into fisticuffs with Jack, okay?”

“Right” David replied, smiling.

#

David counted down the minutes. He couldn’t get out of the office fast enough, escaping from the uncomfortable questions and memories that had come about by Fred’s question. He went to the local newsstand where he’d hoped to find what he was looking for. No luck. Sold out, he was told. He searched another convenience store and was told the same thing. Frustrated David got into his car and started to drive. He parked at went into a bookstore where he found several copies of the magazine he was looking for. He picked up the issue of People magazine commemorating the 15 anniversary of the attacks and went to pay for it. The man behind the counter looked at the magazine.

“They’re going to milk it for all its worth, aren’t they?”

“Yeah well, it is the 15th anniversary.”

“So sad, remember it like it was yesterday. I used to work in the concourse of the North tower; moved out here two weeks before it happened; praise Jesus!”

David handed the guy some money. As he left the store he wondered why people blathered on about the event, like they were trying to find some vague connection to it. David went to his car and sat down. He turned the pages and found his own photo, a copy of his ID badge, and experienced a quiet thrill knowing that he was part of a major historical event, even if no one else around him knew about it. This is how people who survived World War Two must have felt. They had the battle scars and medals to prove it. David only had a scar on his right temple. They don’t give medals for that he thought.

Once he’d had his fix he drove home, wondering what to do with the magazine. Melanie thought it was junk but he wanted to look at it a bit more. He opened the door. She was making dinner. He kissed her on the cheek and carelessly tossed the magazine on the sofa.

#

Melanie Davis had been dating David for five years. She loved him but at times she wondered where the relationship was going. David was always so secretive. At first it had seemed mysterious but over time it became something more than that. She found it strange that he had no photos of himself as a child, didn’t talk about his family. Fire, he had said. But there was something that Melanie didn’t believe about this. She knew that he had grown up in New Jersey. Didn’t know where he’d gone to school. Whether he’d been part of a clique, who he dated, regretted teenage experiences. Innocuous details which provide anecdotes for weddings and funerals. There were blanks that David wouldn’t fill in for her. She’d caught him off guard at one point, during a relaxed evening. They had been having a few drinks and he revealed that at one point in his life he had been overweight. Melanie tried to imagine him as overweight and couldn’t do it. He was in such good shape and he’d always been since she’d known him. She wondered if she was expecting too much. She’d always been open with him about her past. Not that there was anything to hide.

But David was a closed book. She noticed that he packed lightly in his life. While moving in together had been the next logical next step, looking around their apartment he could throw most of his belongings into a box and leave just as easily if he chose to. His sparse amounts of furniture could be removed the same day. It was an unsettling feeling. Unlike her he attached no sentimental value to anything. It was as if even the few items that he did possess could be discarded if they weighed him down.

She wondered what place she had in his life. In all the time they’d been together he had never alluded to the future. For him there was only the present. But she wanted more. Her friends were getting married and having children. They were becoming the odd couple out. This didn’t seem to bother him but as much as it did her. She wanted children of her own. She wanted a commitment. Would this come at the price of her relationship to him?

David came home and carelessly tossed an issue of People magazine on the sofa. She looked at him with annoyance as she picked up the magazine. Why did he buy this junk? It wasn’t like him. She sat down and leafed through the magazine and looked at the photos of the victims. They appeared in alphabetical order. A, B, C, D, she couldn’t even imagine what they had gone through in their last minutes. E, F, G, H, the terror of knowing it was the end and not being able to control it in any way. I, J, K, L, the horror of having no escape, M, N, O, P. Melanie looked at the photos and stopped. She looked up at David and down at the photo. This man in the photo was much younger and wore a goofy expression, yet at the same time it was so familiar. No, it couldn’t be him she thought to herself. The eyes were the same. She looked up at him and then back down, her heart beating faster. So was the smile. She suddenly felt that a piece of the puzzle had fallen into place.

David came over to her and smiled. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I think I just have” Melanie said, lifting the magazine up for him, her finger pointing to a photograph of Michael David Walker Peterson.

Everyone Who Knew Me

16 years ago

Penny lay on the floor in the bathroom of their apartment crying.

In the morning they’d gone to the clinic. Michael sat in the waiting room until she came out. They didn’t say a word on the way home. It had been easy for him; he didn’t have to go through it. Now he’d gone to work to make up the lost time and she was, alone in the apartment curled up on the bathroom floor.

It had been traumatic; she was shaking and crying and the nurses held her down on the table. They told her not to feel bad. One said she’d had six abortions and it was nothing to be ashamed of. She’d met a young girl who’d told her that her parents didn’t know she was here. She’d told them she was going shopping and taken a bus to get there.

Afterwards she was brought into the recovery room, and given some juice and cookies until she felt steadier on her feet. They sent her home with some medication and pamphlets. As she was leaving she felt relief, like she’d been given a second chance. She wasn’t trapped any longer to Michael. She could leave.

For a long time she’d had no control. Michael made all of the decisions for her and she’d had no choice. There’d been a part of her that had wanted the baby.

Suddenly her chest grew tight and her heart started racing. She couldn’t breathe. The room started spinning. She couldn’t move.

She crawled to the phone and her hands started to shake as she dialed the number.

“Tom…” she said

“Penny?”

“Help me..” She whispered, and passed out.

When Penny awoke she was in the hospital. Everything was fuzzy and as she looked around the room it started to become clearer. Someone sat beside the bed holding her hand. She wasn’t sure who it was.

“Penny” the muffled male voice said.

“Michael?” she said, not recognizing the voice. It made her feel safe.

“It’s Tom, Penny. Michael’s on his way.”

“What happened?”

“You called me and then passed out. I found you on the floor unconscious. You wouldn’t wake up so I called an ambulance. Doctor’s think you might have had a panic attack.”

Penny’s face crumpled and she started to cry.

“Penny, do you want to tell me what happened?”

“He made me..” Penny said, trying to speak but only whispers came out.

“Who?”

“Michael..”

“What did he make you do?”

“Abortion…” Penny said before passing out.

Normally circumspect Tom felt himself growing enraged. He didn’t think he knew Michael any longer. They’d grown up together, gone to the same schools, graduated in the same class. Tom went off to university and Michael went to work. They’d kept in touch periodically and he’d been invited to their wedding, acting as Michael’s best man. He’d met Penny a handful of times before the wedding and he’d always wondered what she saw in Michael; he wasn’t particularly good looking and he wasn’t going anywhere. When Tom watched her come up the aisle he thought she was beautiful and it made him sad. She was too good for him. He was Michael’s friend but he had an overwhelming urge to stop her. Three years later, as he looked at her passed out on the hospital bed he wished he had.

Tom didn’t know why Penny had called him. He’d been over to their apartment for dinner a few times over the years but they weren’t particularly close. There were other people she could have called, her mother, or Michael. He remembered her mentioning a sister who lived in Virginia. His family still lived there and they compared notes. Penny’s sister wasn’t far from his brother. He couldn’t remember the sister’s name and didn’t know her mother’s number. So he’d contacted Michael. He was her husband and should take care of her. Some husband, he thought to himself. Why would he leave her alone? After all that she’d been through? What if she hadn’t called him? He was glad that she did. Tom didn’t want to think about what would have happened otherwise. The doctor, mistaking him for her husband, told him that she had a bad infection and would need to stay for observation. Just then Michael came into the room.

“Thanks for calling me about Penny. I didn’t think she was this ill.” He said amazement in his voice.

“The Doctor said she has a bad infection and needs to stay overnight.”

The nurse came in and approached Tom. “Mr Peterson, your wife..”

Michael held up his hand. “I’m Mr Peterson”

“Oh I’m sorry; I thought that he was her husband.” Michael smirked and looked at him.

“No, he’s the lucky man.” Tom said, trying to be lighthearted. He wasn’t sure whether he should say something to Michael. What he really wanted to do was punch him. But it was their business, he thought to himself.

“Hey, want to get some coffee?” Michael said. Tom noted that he hadn’t looked at Penny yet. Here he wanted to go for coffee. If she was my wife I’d be at her side day and night, Tom thought. It was no less than she deserved. If she were my wife she wouldn’t be in this position either. Tom looked at her sadly.

“No, that’s okay. She needs you.” Tom said, and walked out of the room.

#

Michael sat down at Penny’s beside and watched her breathe. He knew he shouldn’t have left her alone but he had to make up the time at work. With some rest he thought she would be fine. All he could think about throughout the day was the abortion. He didn’t like Penny having to go through with it but there was no other alternative. They couldn’t afford it. He’d been told that the fetus was no bigger than a grain of rice. Mistakes happen, he thought. They were young and would have plenty of time to have children. In the morning when she’d complained of feeling ill he hadn’t believed her. She was just trying to get attention he thought. This was no different.

He looked at his watch. Derek would be wondering where he was. He knew nothing of the abortion, no one did. He wondered if Penny had mentioned anything to Tom. Concerned about insurance, He’d asked the doctor how long she would be in the hospital. They couldn’t afford this either. He had to get back to Derek if he wanted to pay for any of this. He kissed Penny on the forehead; he would be back for her tomorrow.

#

Tom kissed Penny on the lips.

Ever since she’d been discharged from the hospital he’d felt compelled to check up on her. It had become part of his routine and until he did so he felt unsettled. After each visit he would feel conflicted, like he was doing some natural yet wrong. He knew he wasn’t falling in love with her. He’d been in love with her all along, denying it to himself. This event had suddenly escalated everything. In the space of a few weeks he had gone from being an occasional friend to more than just friends. Normally he wouldn’t have been so impulsive, but this growing intimacy between them felt right and inevitable.

Penny kissed him back as they lay down on the bed in his apartment. They had never been in his bedroom, confining their visits to his living room where she would lay on the couch, across his lap while he stroked her hair. They would silently stare at each other. It was only today, instead of lying down on the couch, she took his hand and led him to his bedroom. She pulled off her shirt and took off her bra, straddling him and stroking his face. Tom kissed her slowly on the lips and neck. He lingered at her breasts but she was impatient. Both of them were. Languid foreplay could wait. She took off the rest of her clothes and he followed suit.

“Do we need to use something?”

“No it should be okay.” She said impatiently, pulling him towards her.

This isn’t right, Tom though as he entered her. But he couldn’t help it as he finally, physically embraced his feelings for her. The feelings he had tried to hide suddenly revealed. With each thrust they moved in rhythm together. When she climaxed he followed, having held out until she did so. It had been a long time since he had sex but it had never been like this. He didn’t know it could be like this as they lay together, enjoying the moment. She rested her head on his chest and he stroked her hair. He could stay like this forever.

#

Penny lay in bed with her back to Michael. He cuddled up behind her and started to touch her nipples. She flinched when he kissed her, not wanting to continue. But she felt as though she had no choice. Before she could reach for the condoms he entered her. As he thrust she stared up at the ceiling thinking of Tom. Doing so made being with Michael bearable. She’d never realized that having sex with someone she loved would make the experience different. As she thought of him Michael climaxed and rolled off her onto his side, both relieved in their own way. She smiled at him, after sex, as was her habit, as if to say ‘it’s okay to think about you and ignore me.’ She didn’t know why she’d married him. He was her first, and they’d fallen in love. She was 17, naïve and blind to his faults. Whenever he would discuss a slight she would sympathize. She felt that she was rescuing him; she did that, coming from a long line of people who rescued others. He needed someone who could be positive while he found his way. But he blamed everyone else for his problems, instead of trying to make a concerted effort. He blamed the past. It was always some one else’s fault. A year after they’d married, she’d once become so fed up with him that she lost her temper and told him to get over it.

He’d looked at her shocked, and then he punched her in the arm, leaving a large bruise. They’d never spoken about it and he’d never apologized. She hadn’t told anyone about the incident, but it was just a litany of evidence that she’d made a big mistake when he would rather defend his victimization than protect her from it.

She thought about Tom. He was the opposite of Michael in every way. Whereas Michael had a victim mentality, Tom was self-confident and self-made. He didn’t live in the past; he learned from it and moved on. When she’d met him the first time she wasn’t particularly impressed. He was a bit of a know-it-all and worse still, he didn’t need to be rescued. She would never feel superior based on his flaws. She would have to base her identity on her own merits instead of appearing better than someone else.

After three years Penny knew that Michael was beyond hope. She’d gone from rescue mode to self-preservation. She thought about another incident, she’d refused to do something, she didn’t remember exactly what it was but he was furious with her. He stood at the door with the garbage in his hand and started throwing five day old spaghetti with tomato sauce around the entrance way. He then demanded she clean it up. When she refused he dragged her by the arm across the living room and dropped her on the mess. There were times when she would look at him as he slept and wish him dead. She’d thought about getting a knife and plunging it into his back. Or a gun and enjoying the fear in his eyes before she pulled the trigger; the kind that he must have seen whenever he’d abused her. Prison couldn’t have been worse than living with Michael. Maybe the jury would have sympathy on her. Once her lawyer told them what he’d been like they’d have wondered why she hadn’t done it sooner.

Penny didn’t know the exact moment she had fallen in love with Tom. When she was dating Michael, Tom was just his phlegmatic, overly serious friend. If they were together she would look up and notice he was looking at her. Even with Michael in the room. When she married Michael, he acted as best man and he looked sad during the ceremony. Even then he knew, the marriage was a mistake before she did.

After the abortion, things changed between them. Tom was there for her and she responded to his concern. He cared about her. She couldn’t recall the last time Michael had done so either consciously or not. He’d told her numerous times that he thought she was faking being ill, even when she was doubled over in pain from cramps. He continued watching TV as she practically crawled to the bathroom for pain killers. Tom didn’t have to say anything for her to know he cared. After the abortion he would make sure she’d taken her pills for the infection. He would read the pamphlets and make sure to follow them. He was there in a way that Michael wasn’t capable of.

When she started to get better he would look for an excuse to come over. Eventually he ran out of excuses and so she went to visit him, where they would simply enjoy being in each other’s company. The chemistry became so overpowering that they finally gave into it without a backwards glance. At first the sex had been casual; both reluctant to invest emotionally in an act that betrayed someone both of them cared about, Michael. Eventually the sex became passionate love-making whenever she counted down the hours until she could touch Tom again. When she had sex with Michael, all she could think of was making love to Tom but without the satisfaction. Penny felt no guilt at being happy. She wasn’t sure if Michael had picked up on the change in her but she knew she had to be careful. She couldn’t let anything interfere with her happiness.

#

Four months later

“You’re what?”

“I’m pregnant” Penny looked at Michael apprehensively.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I took two tests to make sure. Both were positive.”

“Didn’t we just go through this six months ago?” Penny nodded, remembering how traumatic the abortion had been.

“We can’t afford a baby; you know that, I know that.” He said, trying to keep his voice down. He’d thought they’d been careful since then.

“Michael, I’m just as upset as you are.”

“Well, then make an appointment and get rid of it.”

“Michael”

“Get rid of it.” Michael said flatly and walked out of the room. Penny had tears in her eyes, how had she gotten in to this mess? She grabbed her keys and left the apartment, walking the short distance to Tom’s place. She rang the doorbell and he opened the door.

“He wants me to get rid of it.” She cried. “That’s what he called the baby, ‘it’.

Tom brought her inside and sat her down.

“What do you want to do?”

“I don’t want to go through it again Tom. But I have to, I have no choice. I’ll be trapped with him if I don’t.”

He put her hand on her stomach, rubbed it. He’d always thought of himself as pro-choice but the issue had been an abstract concept. He could look at it with cool objectivity, evidence that he was fair minded. But until now it had never been personal. He kneeled down and nuzzled his nose into her belly which was just starting to show and started to cry.

“Is it mine?” he asked, looking up at her imploringly. If this was his child it wouldn’t make a difference, it was her body and ultimately up to her.

“I don’t know.” Penny said. She didn’t know and it bothered her. Either way this child was unwanted and would cause trouble. Something she couldn’t deal with.

“Please don’t do it Penny. Please. We’ll find a way to deal with this. If he won’t take responsibility then I will.”

“I can’t…” Penny started to cry.

Tom put his hand to her face and stroked it.

“Leave him Penny. Stay here.”

Penny shook her head and tried to compose herself. Tom held her tightly, not wanting her to leave and take what might be his baby with her.

“I have to go” she said and kissed him on the lips. She would have done anything to stay but she couldn’t. It was almost dinner time and Michael would expect it on the table.

“Please Penny, please”

#

Michael rushed to the men’s room and threw up until all that was left were dry heaves. Why was Penny pregnant again? He thought they’d been so careful. What would they do with this baby? They couldn’t afford to have one. It was hard enough supporting them on his income, let alone three of them.

When he’d found a job at the World Trade Centre he thought he’d have it made. Everyday he came in from New Jersey; he didn’t like the commute but loved working in New York City. Loved the energy, the anything is possible vibe. Whenever he looked up at the buildings he would get a thrill. The complex was so large it even had its own zip code. He’d worked in the South tower since 1998, in the mailroom at an insurance company. When he interviewed for the position, the Human Resources manager said that there would be opportunity for growth. He’d been there for three years and hadn’t moved. Those HR people were just a bunch of liars, duping new recruits. Sometimes he would see nervous job candidates in the reception area waiting to be lured in with false promises. He wanted to warn them ‘escape while you can!’ but he never did. After all, no one had warned him, did they?

Working in the mailroom wasn’t a great job but it kept him on his feet and away from a desk. He didn’t envy his colleagues, confined in their cubicles. He had freedom of movement, even if he didn’t have much respect. Didn’t people realize that all jobs were interconnected? Would they get their own mail? He didn’t think so.

His boss was Beverly. She was fiftyish with a younger boyfriend he’d met a few times at company holiday parties. Her assistant was Kristin Mantis, who knew everything, saw everything, suspected everything. When she sized you up with her gray eyes she could suck your soul dry. People called her ‘Preying’ Mantis behind her back. Nobody knew how long Kristin had been with the company, probably too long for her own good, Michael thought to himself.

To him she didn’t seem to have any discernable talent other than kissing up to Beverly; an enviable talent that took his breath away. He’d always thought that Beverly was brighter than to fall for Kristin’s antics. Kristin must have incriminating photos of her, otherwise how could she be so blind? Beverly made no secret of her dislike for him. To be precise, she seemed to tolerate him and little else. He’d been hired by a previous even-keeled manager who’d been promoted. Beverly came in his division a year ago, inheriting Kristin and him in the process.

He wiped his face and dried it with a paper towel. Back to work, although he still felt sick to his stomach. He sorted the mail with efficiency, quickly organizing the pile of policies into alphabetical order. He was good at his job and he took pride in it.

But sometimes he felt as though people weren’t looking at him. Melded into the background, only to be seen when someone needed something. He’d always felt as though a part of himself was missing, like he was on the verge of something, yet he didn’t get it. No one seemed to respect his opinions. No one wanted to listen to him. He would look at his co-worker Derek. He tried to hide his awe and envy. Derek was tall, handsome. He could have been a model. He was always dressed fashionably, making combinations that most guys couldn’t pull off. He was good naturedly called “Mr. GQ”. Yet Michael never saw Derek with a woman, he was always alone. When he wasn’t wondering what was wrong with him he would wonder what it was like to walk in Derek’s shoes for a day. To have people respect him just by his mere existence, the way he looked. Derek was also smart. He wasn’t just a pretty face, which is what some of the females in the office thought. Someone that good looking couldn’t have it all. There must be something missing. Everyone liked Derek. If he disliked anyone he hid it well.

One person who liked him a lot was Kristin. To Michael her interest in Derek seemed predatory, as though she could eat him alive. Where Derek was she would conveniently appear. He didn’t know how she got any work done or what Beverly made of her assistant’s constant absences from her desk.

Michael was once working in the mailroom when Kristin came for a visit. He didn’t turn around but didn’t need to see her to know she was there. She didn’t even have to say a word; he could sense her by her smell, the pheromones and the labored excited breathing whenever Derek was around. Derek didn’t seem to notice, possibly used to this reaction in women as an everyday occurrence, Michael thought jealously.

#

8:35 AM

Kristin needed her fix.

Just 10 more minutes, she thought. He needed time to settle in. It wouldn’t be fair to him. The last thing she wanted was to catch him unaware, disheveled, out of breath. As if he could ever be that.

She came in before he did. She would be at her desk at 8:00 AM sharp. Derek would arrive at 8:35 AM, 5 minutes late. He did it every day, she noted and it was the one thing she disliked about him. She kept track, she might never use the ammunition but it comforted her to know it was there. Kristin kept track of many people, making her daily perambulations to see who was at their desks and who wasn’t. She knew what time people should be at their posts and made a mental note of who wasn’t and when.

She didn’t want to be obvious and made sure to wait before coming by Derek’s desk but she watched the clock with anticipation. She didn’t always check up on him, hoping that he’d be punctual. But he never was.

She would have to change that. You do that for those you love.

8:45 AM

She made her move. He wasn’t at his desk but getting some coffee and visiting Michael in the mailroom. She wondered why he would hang out with him. Maybe he noticed the obvious disparity in their intelligence and looks. Talking to Michael made him feel better about himself. It was the only logical reason she thought. But to her Derek was superior. No doubt he took it for granted. He didn’t need to visit inferior people. She could have told him, if only he’d let her.

8:50 AM

Her breathing was excited. She would see him soon. It would take her 20 steps, one elevator and 30 more steps to get to his desk. If she wanted to go to the mailroom, it would take her another 40 steps to get there. She done this trip for so long that she’d counted. There was no more efficient way to get there, having tried other alternatives. She hoped no one would stop her. She was on a mission, growing more excited with each step.

8:55 AM

Derek wasn’t at his desk. His jacket lay casually on his chair. His coffee cup was gone. She placed her hand inside his jacket which was still warm. It was almost too much. She turned around and walked away, ignoring the looks of people in neighboring cubicles, who had noticed her touching his jacket.

It was a routine they were familiar with; it could be timed to the minute and changed seasonally. Sometimes it was his coat, his scarf, sometimes his brief case. They’d even seen her take his coffee mug and smell it, running a finger along the rim and then placing it in her mouth, drinking any remnants of coffee Derek might have forgotten to pour out.

9:00 AM

Kristin rounded the corner and entered the mailroom. Derek stood leaning against the counter chatting with Michael as he sorted the mail. He wore a purple dress shirt. She liked the color on him. It flattered his skin tone. Although she had his face memorized, she stared at Derek. He was everything she wanted in a man. He was tall, muscular with dark brown hair. He had knowing and seductive eyes and nice white teeth. He’d heard more than one co-worker remark that he was easy on the eyes. Female and male, she thought, with some disgust.

#

Pheromones.

Michael didn’t even have to turn around to know that she was there. The smell had always disgusted him. That and the excited breathing that she always seemed to have whenever she was around Derek.

“Can I help you Kristin?” he said, not turning around.

“Can’t a gal say hi to some fella’s without wanting anything?” she said, trying to sound light and flirty.

It didn’t work.

He nodded his head and continued sorting the mail.

“How are you today Kristin?” Derek said, trying to sound courtly. He sounded so sincere that Michael gave him a questioning look.

“Oh, you know same old same old. And you?” her tone was sweetly but her teeth were bared with shark like incisors.

“Every day we’re given is a good day.” He said wistfully, as if the potential for excitement lurked in everything he would experience. Kristin came closer to him, almost invading his personal space.

“Amen to that.”

There was an uncomfortable silence while Kristin stared at Derek and smiled. He didn’t move back when she took a deep, inhaling breath, as if to save his scent for later.

“Have to go now. You fellas have a good day. Okay?”

Once Kristin had turned the corner she had an orgasmic shudder. She’d spent the weekend wanting and craving it.

If only Louise did this for her.

She’d never told anyone about Louise. It was none of anyone else’s business. Although they lived together as a couple, Kristin had fantasies about men. Her bisexuality was something she kept from everyone, including her parents. She didn’t think that Louise suspected about Derek. She’d once had a dream that while she and Derek were at work she went down on him at his desk, kneeling before him submissively. He gripped her hair painfully while ordering her to go faster and deeper. She was turned on by the look of grateful happiness on his face when he came. He would then zip up his pants and without saying a word, step over her, leaving her to savor the taste of him.

Kristin wished the dream would have been true. She was in love with Derek but he seemed repulsed by her. He tried to hide it but she knew. She’d seen that look before.

#

Michael Peterson got off the subway a few blocks from where he worked in the World Trade Centre. He had vowed that he would get in shape this year for Penny. It was a beautiful day. Maybe later he would go downstairs to catch one of the concerts the building management held in the plaza.

Michael was good at his job. He took pride in it, but sometimes when he wanted clarification he would go to Beverly, who would say: “Don’t ask me open ended questions!” Whenever there would be a new recruit she would say “I like to give people enough rope to hang themselves with.” He thought she’d been kidding when she said it until he saw her in action with some hapless minion who’d obviously dared to ask her an open ended question. How she’d ever become a manager in the first place is anybody’s guess. He could only hope that Kristin never got that promotion. She’d probably give people less rope. Her demeanor did not encourage questions either. You’d never know you’d gotten something wrong until your head was on the chopping block.

Part of his job was to sort the new insurance policies from the various major insurance companies and date-stamp them. These policies listed the name of the client and what was being insured – paintings, jewelry, cars. One of Michael’s coworkers, Derek, helped him with the date stamping. Sometimes Michael and Derek would look at the policies. Derek shook his head “a Picasso – how provincial. Some people in the Hampton’s have too much stuff”

Michael kept stamping. Unlike Derek, he didn’t like looking at the policies too closely. He found them depressing. All the things he would never own. He wondered whether these people really appreciated the Picasso or took it for granted, like the calendar in his kitchen. Derek continued looking at the policy.

“These pages tell you everything about a person. Who they are, where they live, what they own”

“Yes, that info helps sort the policies for the brokers.” Michael said, without looking up.

Derek’s voice went below a whisper. “Yeah, but think of it. Now we know where all the valuable stuff is. We know whether they have security systems. We don’t have to randomly knock on people’s doors.”

Michael looked up at Derek.

“What are you saying?”

“I’ve got some friends who might be able to give us a bit of extra cash. They’d be willing to pay for this kind of information.”

Michael continued looking at Derek. He could take the moral high-ground. Talk about how wrong it was. But he wanted something more out of life. He wanted to do something. Not just be some nobody in the mailroom.

Michael wasn’t a broker but he understood enough about how the policies worked. “You can’t do that kind of stuff. They’d catch on after a while; there would be too many claims.”

“Not if you organize it by neighborhood. Hit a house here, hit another one there. People will think it’s a serial burglar.”

“Who conveniently knows where all the valuable stuff is?”

“It’s the Hampton’s. Everyone has valuable stuff there. We’d just be able to tell them what and where it is. We could split it 50-50.”

Michael stared at Derek. It could work, he thought. He could set up a separate bank account. Penny didn’t need to know.

“The extra money could come in handy with the baby on the way. You could tell her you got a raise.”

“Here? I haven’t gotten a raise since I started.”

“What a welcome surprise to her then!”

Michael and Derek continued talking when Kristin Mantis walked in to the mailroom. Kristin was the secretary and minion to Beverly, the Office Services Manager. She was the conduit to Beverly. Anything you wanted Beverly to know or not to know went through Kristin. Kristin was twenty-something but looked more like thirty-something. She was heavy set and wore unflattering clothes. On this day she was wearing a full length taffeta maroon colored dress with a v-shaped back and puffy sleeves. It was obvious that this was a bridesmaid dress. All that was missing were the flowers. Whoever had told her that bridesmaid dresses could be re-worn was wrong.

Derek and Michael disliked Kristin intensely. She was the lap-dog of Beverly and proud of it. It was an ongoing debate between Derek and Michael as to what kind of a lapdog Kristin was.

“I say she’s a Bichon Frisé.” Derek said after careful consideration.

“Too friendly.”

Derek looked slightly disappointed. He’d been sure that he’d chosen right this time. He gave another guess.

“Terrier?”

“Is that a lap dog?”

“Chihuahua?”

“She’s not very small you know.”

Kristin came up to them, her eyes scanning the area. Michael almost felt that she had x-ray vision and could see his thoughts as he considered what dog food she ate.

“How are you fella’s doing today?” sitting down next to them. Michael hated the faux friendliness. She called men “fellas” and women “Chiquita” whether they liked it or not. If she knew what people called her behind her back she might not like that either.

“We were just discussing dogs.” Derek usually feigned a courtly, gentlemanly attitude towards Kristin, which she took as genuine. It was better to keep your enemies close.

“Oh yeah? Do you have any dogs?”

“No, Penny is allergic to them.” Michael lied.

“I’m not allergic I just don’t have room in my loft.” Derek said

“Well I would love to get a dog but my co-op won’t allow it. It’s an exclusive building and I don’t want to go against the board.”

Michael groaned inside. Kristin loved to make herself seem better than she was. Rumor had it that she’d made up that she was getting married and sent invitations out, only to cancel the ‘wedding’. No one had ever met her boyfriend or fiancé or even seen a picture of him; if he even existed at all. Michael sometimes thought her fiancé was like the character Maris from the sitcom Frasier; discussed but never seen. Kristin gained a lot of sympathy from that incident.

“Any plans for the weekend?” Derek asked. He seemed genuinely wanting to hear what she would say next. It was usually something altruistic. Kristin had a save the world complex.

“Well, there’s this homeless shelter where I volunteer…” Kristin said, trying to be modest but failing.

“Oh, I thought it was a children’s hospital? You sang and read to the children, comforting them while a thunderstorm raged outside. They were terrified and clung to you for dear life.”

Derek scoffed. “No I thought it was an old age home? Didn’t you say that you’d bought and individually wrapped gifts for all of the residents and staff? And cooked a meal for everyone when the kitchen staff called in sick?’

Derek and Michael smiled at each other. Maybe this time they would catch her out in one of her lies. Kristin blushed.

“Yes, I’ve volunteered at several organizations. There are so many people to help and the Lord only created one of me.” Kristin said wistfully and giggled in an upward gurgle sound. Even her giggle was annoying.

“For my vacation next year I’m thinking of going to Africa to minister and build churches. They need so much help there”.

Derek was leaning forward, his hand on his chin as if he was studying a rare species under a microscope. Kristin got up from her chair and smoothed out her bridesmaid dress.

“That’s a lovely dress Kristin.” Michael was amazed he could say it with a straight face.

“Oh thank you! This was the dress that my maid of honor would have worn to my wedding.”

Michael thought he heard a catch in her voice. A touch of sentimentality rose inside of him and he fought hard to keep it down. He looked at her sadly.

“I just couldn’t let it go to waste. I’m so happy I chose dresses that could be altered for everyday wear. “

Michael wondered what had been altered on the dress but said nothing. Kristin gave Derek a flirtatious smile and walked away. She stopped at the vending machine for a Diet Coke even though it was 10:00AM. When she had left Michael looked at Derek.

“I think she likes you. Lucky bastard.”

“It’s understandable. I am rather charming aren’t I?”

“It’s one of the first things I noticed when I met you.”

“That Kristin is my kind of woman; in love with me and delusional.”

“Isn’t that a prerequisite for all of them?”

#

Penny entered the clinic and looked around the waiting room. Women sat in various states of anxiety waiting to be called in. She checked in, sat down and tried to read a magazine. She put it down and started to think of all of the reasons not to have this child. Penny thought of all of the reasons not to have this baby. She already felt suffocated; this child would make that worse. She didn’t love Michael. Why would she bring a baby into such a relationship? It was the wrong time, the wrong place. Didn’t a baby deserve better?

She thought about the last time she’d been here. Six months ago. It had been traumatic; the nurses had held her down, telling her not to feel bad. One of them told her she’d had six abortions and it was nothing to be ashamed of. She remembered meeting a young girl who sobbed as she told Penny how she’d taken the bus here. No one knew she was pregnant. Not even her parents. They thought she was going shopping for the day.

Afterwards she was brought into the recovery room, but didn’t see the girl. They gave her some juice and cookies until she felt steadier on her feet then sent her home with some medication and pamphlets. As she was leaving she felt relief, like she’d been given a second chance. The last place she thought she’d end up was back here.

Penny wondered how they could have been so careless. Michael had been so distant and preoccupied. He wasn’t there for her. She craved closeness even if she’d end up paying the consequences for it later. She looked down at the consequence and rubbed her stomach. They had no one to blame but themselves. Michael would blame her with good reason if he knew the entire story. She didn’t care about that as a rise of defiance grew in her. She wanted this baby even if she didn’t know whose it was. There had been no question with the first pregnancy and she didn’t regret the abortion even if it had been the most physically and mentally painful thing she’d gone through. She stroked her belly. She felt as though she had no control, as though Michael was making the decisions for her. She’d had no choice in the matter. But there was a part of her that wanted a baby. This baby, even if she didn’t know who the father was. She knew whose baby she wanted this to be. And if it wasn’t then she’d have to try to counter balance the negatives. If anyone was worth rescuing it was this one.

“Mrs. Peterson?” a nurse called out. She held a clip board and leaned against the door to keep it open for her.

Penny looked up. She took a deep breath, got up from her chair and walked towards the door.

#

‘When I believe in myself, so do others.’

Michael repeated the affirmation to himself. He had the self-help book covered so that no one else could see what he was reading. He’d always thought that people who openly read these books just wanted attention. He tried to relax, releasing the physical and emotional and mental tension he carried with him on a daily basis. On the train ride in he would use a daily affirmation for relationships, work and abundance.

‘Wealth is pouring into my life.’

‘Everything is getting better every day.’

Michael didn’t know exactly where he was going with these affirmations. He didn’t even know exactly what he wanted to do with his life.

‘I deserve to be happy and successful.’

But would others let him? He thought to himself. No matter what he had done it had always come down to others. As if he wasn’t allowed to succeed, no matter how hard he tried.

Michael wished the last part was true. He’d gotten an entry level job working in the mailroom at an insurance company. The Human Resources manager had said there would be opportunity for growth. He’d been there for 3 years and hadn’t moved. Those HR people were just a bunch of liars, duping new recruits. Sometimes he would see nervous interviewees in the reception area, waiting to be lured in with false promises, and want to warn them. ‘Escape while you can!’ but he never did. After all, no one warned him did they?

Kristin drove a red pickup truck, which she babied. The floor wells were covered with protective plastic. Michael was amazed that Kristin didn’t make people take their shoes off before sitting down. She was obviously passionate about this truck, something Derek and Michael thought was rather butch.

Michael sorted the mail with efficiency, quickly organizing the pile of policies into alphabetical order. He was good at his job and he took pride in it.