The You I've Never Known(57)


Her mother and older brother are dead.





They Were Killed


On September 11, 2001,

when the twin towers of

the World Trade Center

were leveled by terrorists.

I barely remember Mama, says Hillary, and if not for photos, I wouldn’t be able to picture Brent at all.

I was only three when it happened. We were visiting Aunt Peg in upstate New York, and I came down with some virus, or I might have been there, too.

Mama had taken Brent into the city to sightsee.

They were staying at the Marriott at the foot of the WTC. When the towers fell, the hotel was sliced in two. Everyone on one side lived; but on the other . . .

She shakes her head sadly,

but her eyes don’t tear up,

and it’s obvious many years

have passed—enough for

a young child’s grief to

be swallowed up by time.

Wow, says Gabe. It’s weird to know someone personally affected by 9/11. I was little, like not quite five, but I totally remember my mom glued to the TV, praying and crying.

Not for anyone she knew, but just because of how many people died, including first responders. It hit her hard.

I overheard my dad and her talking, saying how terror was not supposed to affect us at home, and no American would ever feel safe again.

I didn’t get it then. It took years to understand.

The only thing I can think

to say is, “I’m really sorry,

Hillary. That sucks so bad.”

Gabe’s right. It’s strange

to find out someone you know

was personally affected by such an infamous piece of history.





All I Know About 9/11


Is what I’ve learned in school,

usually on the anniversary.

I asked Dad about it one time.

It didn’t surprise me, he said.

The only thing that did was that it took them so long,

and that Saudi Arabia

masterminded the whole

dirty thing. I figured it would be Iran or Iraq, and shit, who knows? Maybe their stinking fingers were in it, too.

In the years that followed,

as American casualty counts

grew in Iraq and Afghanistan,

Dad commented once, Hell,

it could’ve been me over there.

And for what? Upsetting

the power structure is only going to fuck things up even worse, you mark my words.

Shit’s gonna get ugly, and, intelligence or not, the US

of A is not immune. There

will be more attacks at home.

Guess he knew a thing or two.





We Change the Subject


And now we learn

that Hillary’s new car is on order. It’s an

all-wheel-drive

Long Beach Blue

BMW X6 M,

not that I’ve got a clue what that is, except Gabe says, Holy crap!

Those are beautiful cars. Definitely a step up from a Ford.

“Hey, now, without

that Ford, I’d probably be on foot forever.

This is the first chance I’ve had to thank you in person for the Focus.

No one’s ever given me a gift like this. Not sure how I can repay you.”

The debt was mine to pay, Ariel. You and Gabe didn’t have to stop. A lot of people would’ve driven right past.

So, thank you. Both of you.





It’s a Natural Break


In the conversation, and Peg

must’ve been listening for one

because she comes bustling in.

Okay, we’d better let Hillary rest now. This is the most stimulation she’s had in a while.

We say our good-byes and I

comment, “Next time I see you,

I’ll be driving a pretty red car.”

Wait by the door, says Peg. I’ll take Hillary up to her room and then give you that tour of the barn.

When they go upstairs, Gabe

asks, So did your dad commit to signing off on your driver’s license?

“Not yet. But I’m not taking no

for an answer. You don’t happen

to have any ideas about blackmail?”

He grins. Maybe I could wait till he and Zelda are busy in the bedroom and sneak a pic with my phone?

“I don’t think that would work.

Where are you going to post it, for one thing? Like, who would care?”





Just Stating the Obvious


And Gabe can only agree.

Peg returns, wearing riding

boots in place of her earlier

slippers. She gestures for us

to come along with her.

It’s kind of a hike to the barn, she says. If you’d rather drive, go ahead. I can use the exercise.

It is a decent walk, but the sun has warmed the autumn air,

which is scented with the sweet wood smoke that has escaped

the chimney. For no other reason than to make conversation, I ask Peg, “Do you like California?”

Well enough. I’ve been out here for fifteen years, so it pretty much feels like home. Why do you ask?

“Just wondering. Hillary told us about her mom and brother.

I figured that’s why you’re here.”

You figured right. I’d probably still be in New York if Charles didn’t need me to take care of Hillary. When she goes off to college, I could leave, but I won’t. All that I am is right here.

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