Shannon O’Malley September
21, 2012
Fictional Story Experience Mrs.Basko
– Period 4
“I love you”, those are the last three words I
heard from my beloved wife of twenty years. Those words ring through my head,
over and over, I love you, I love you, I love you. I remember that day just like I remember my
birthday; it probably will be remembered as a tragedy in America by all. How
could anyone do such a thing to our nation? These flashbacks bring me to tears,
although it is five years later. This minus well be written on my grave as the
most significant and memorable event in my lifetime.
It was seven o’clock in the morning
when we left for work. The day was grey and there was a drizzle of rain which
set mellow tone for the day. It was Tuesday, just the beginning of the week but
we already were looking forward for the weekend. Every day was jam packed with paperwork and
pleasing the customers at my job. I worked for Marsh & McLennan Company,
which operated on the ninety third to ninety ninth floors of the north tower.
My wife worked as a consultant at Fuji Bank and Financial Services on the
seventy seventh floor of the south tower. We owned one car; we drove to work together,
ate lunch together and went home together. This day was the same as every other.
As usual, I woke up at 5:30 in the
morning, ate a half of a bagel, drank my coffee and read the morning paper. I
sat at the four-person kitchen table in the middle of our three-room apartment,
and gazed out the window. The sun seeped
through the dark clouds, but only for a couple minutes then the sky returned to
haze. Anne came out of the room at 6:30 to grab a bite to eat and then
proceeded to get ready for the workday. We both showered, left chores for the
kids and then took off. We have three kids, Emily was ten at the time, John was
seven and Alicia was 3 and a half years old. Mrs. Wagner, the nanny, arrives at
seven o’clock sharp every day. Anne and
I took off for work, but on this particular Tuesday Anne was noticeably quiet. I
never questioned why, I let her be until we went out to lunch together around
noon.
As I arrived in my office on the
ninety third floor, the receptionist Melissa and all of my coworkers greeted
me. Everyone was friendly and treated with respect. I was moved from the ninety
-ninth floor down to the ninety-third floor last month, but yet the workers on
this floor welcomed me, although the move was in the same company. We were an international firm, which provided
advice and solutions in strategy, human capital and areas of risk. My job was
to help companies plan and respond to crucial business issues. I organized all
the paperwork and imputed the information companies gave us into the computer
system so my coworkers could retrieve it with ease off the computers when in
meetings. I remember this day like the back of my hand, at eight o’clock in the
morning I began to input data into the computer system. I was working on a company based out of
China, going through the forty pages one by one. Suddenly I realized that I left some of the
necessary paperwork in the car and I left to go get it in the parking garage
underground.
It was 8:46 am when my cell phone
rang. The caller ID told me it was my wife; I ignored the call so I could
finish this set of paperwork. Two more calls. Another and finally I picked up
the phone. She was trembling and her voice raged of terror. Our conversation
went as follows:
“John? John? Are you there? Hello?”
“Yes I am going to the car to get
some paperwork. Is everything okay?”
“Ha-ha-have you gone outside yet? Are
you running?”
“No I am on the ground floor, what is
wrong Anne, please just tell me!”
“I heard a loud noise, and now your
building is on fire. Please stay outside. Let me know what happens. Ill be down
in an hour, I have to finish my managers meeting. I love you please stay safe.”
“I love you too.”
These were the last words I would ever hear of my wife. As I
went outside the streets were hectic, a stranger screamed a plane had hit the
building. The floors it hit included where my office was. I waited outside,
hoping that my coworkers made it out safe. I waited for minutes, until suddenly
at 9:03 another plane was headed towards the south tower where my wife was in
her meeting. I prayed that she saw it coming and started running down the
stairs. I thought to myself about how the airline crew could mix up flights and
change route and crash so easily. There must have been miscommunication.
I waited for
about an hour for my wife to escape the raging fire, but suddenly the tower
collapsed. I ran away from the dust cloud that was advancing towards me. I ran
about a mile, dropped to my knees and started weeping. So many thoughts went through my head. How
could this happen on this Tuesday when I had the same routine everyday? I took
out my cell phone and called my wife. Maybe she was on the street looking for
me also or maybe she was in the rubble that remained. Voicemail. Voicemail. And
once again, voicemail. I received a call from the nanny asking if we were okay
because the collapse of the towers had been instantly on the worldly news. I
replied yes, but she could hear something wrong in my voice. She did not dare
ask me if Anne was alive, but only told me she would take care of the children
and she would stay late tonight.
I sat on the
sidewalk edge for hours. Thinking about my past, the present and comprehending
what had happened today. The sirens drove by, one after the other for hours on
end. My ears were ringing with nothing. Complete silence as I blocked out every
sound made. I screamed for Anne repetitively hoping to hear an answer. Maybe
she would return tomorrow, maybe she was going to be found. My shirt was
drenched with my tears, it was almost as though I could ring it out and make a
puddle of water on the sidewalk. I sat in the same spot on the sidewalk for
hours, and eventually I lost track of time.
This was the
day I will be stuck in for the rest of my life. Not a day goes by without
tears, not a day goes by without remembrance of my wife. She was inspiration,
not only to me but to my family as well. To this day, my children have not asked what
happened to mommy. I think they understand that this shall not be spoken of
without sorrow. I wonder what cruel soul could do such a thing, take so many
lives and tear families apart. I miss you and love you forever, Anne.
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