SECOND WARNING, DEPRESSING STORY. Angela and Tony dealing with another September 11th. Jonathan was killed in one of the Towers. I didn't want to write this story, The Muse insisted on it. I felt like I was going to throw up the whole time I was writing it, and it's taken me a year to post it. (Yes, I wrote this last year.) Part of me thinks that the only reason I am posting it now is to ward off the revival writers from using this situation to write off a character. Don't do it, we want sitcoms to be funny, not tragic.
"Headache."
It was only one word, but Tony knew that the hurt in her head was nothing compared to the hurt in her heart today, and every day when she couldn't find enough distraction.
"You want some tea?" he asked.
She nodded, still groggy from the nap, a nap Tony was grateful she'd managed to get. She never slept well the night before; too much anxiety, too many 'what ifs' running through her head.
She'd wanted to get away this year; away from New York City, away from Connecticut even. So here they were in Maine, at a home rental near a lake. Away from the constant replays of images that never left her mind in the first place, away from the infuriating cry of, "never forget!" as if she ever could. There was no place to hide though; Tony didn't dare turn on the tv, the internet was also a non-starter. He tried the radio, maybe some nice old school songs would help, and they did, until the songs ended and a solemn voice would intone, "On the 20th anniversary…" He never knew what the rest of the message was as he was always quick to tune in another station at that point. It never worked for long as inevitably the message turned up on every station he tried. Eventually, he gave up and turned off the radio, leaving nothing but the sounds of some sort of concert in a park far off, and the ducks on the lake nearby.
Angela looked out on the lake, trying to find some solace in the beauty of the water and the trees and the sky, but the sky was once again too blue and it just reminded her of the blue sky on that day.
She wasn't going to think about it, she wasn't going back to that day, for no matter how many times she replayed it in her mind, nothing could ever change. Fortunately, Tony returned with the tea. The porch on the house was perfect for sleeping, equipped with a couple of wicker couches with puffy cushions and the porch swing that Angela had fallen asleep in earlier. Tony watched over her, doing his best to get her through this day once again, even though his own pain was difficult also. He sat down on the swing and she gratefully took the tea and snuggled up against him. Clinging together was a balm for both of them. Angela took a couple of sips as they silently watched a formation of birds flying south.
The swing was barely moving, neither have much of an inclination to push. Angela clutched the mug and with a barely above a whisper hoarse voice said, "Tony, I never told you this...I don't even remember when it happened anymore, but there was one night…" This was so difficult to bring up, the subject matter itself was horrible enough, but there was also the fear that her beloved Tony would think she was crazy for saying this, but she'd held this inside for too long and needed it out. "I had a nightmare one night…" Tony caressed her back as he knew that nothing about this day was easy. "I saw...I saw that day from the point of view of someone who jumped."
Tony stopped his caressing and she looked up. "I don't know, I don't know if it was him." They would never know how Jonathan had met his end as his remains had never been found. "All I remember is being at the window, behind someone. I remember the narrow sides. I saw all the shorter buildings so far below. The smoke. And then...I saw the person fall." Tony blinked in shock and Angela pulled away a little more. She put the tea on a small table at the end of the swing. "Tony," she took a couple of deep breaths as she stared at the floor, "this is going to sound weird...or weirder," she gathered the courage to turn her head to him, "there was a comfort in this. I knew this person felt no pain. The soul...spirit...whatever you want to call it, was gone, perhaps watching by that point, too."
There was more silence, eventually he reached out a hand to her, she climbed back into his arms hoping to enclose herself in a fortress, away from the pain, but she knew that no matter how many times those arms had comforted her in the past, today they could not grant peace. She knew Tony's grief matched her own and what she had just told him had to discombobulate his own thoughts. They were both crying.
"Tony, how can it possibly be twenty years? It's just not possible that it's been so long. Where has that time gone? It's been so...surreal. Part of me still can't wrap my head around that it even happened, even though I know it did. It's like I keep expecting there to be some sort of cosmic reset button and somehow we'll all wake up and none of this will have happened. It's crazy, I know."
"It's not crazy, Angela, we all want to shield ourselves from the trauma. How do we continue to go on? I know some days we only get through on pure denial." The day he'd realized they'd been a family without Jonathan for longer than they had been with him was particularly painful. "There's life before 9/11 and there's life after. I know it's been said, but he wouldn't want us to miserable. I mean, he's probably having a great time with his grandparents." Angela had never really given any sort of afterlife much thought in the before era, but found that one way of coping with her mother's death was by telling herself that her mother was no longer suffering.
Mona had never been the same after Jonathan died. She held herself together for Angela's sake as best she could, but the joie de vivre that had defined her disappeared. Her focus changed. She used her power of persuasion to organize events to raise money for the families left behind. She established scholarships in Jonathan's name, specifically for the children of the firefighters and the police. She felt it important that they they be given at a party, although somehow Angela and Michael always wound up paying for those. Michael was never the same either, he was near catatonic at first, after the shock had worn off, depression set in. He attended every party, smiling for the honorees as best he could, but the smile was as hollow as his heart.
"I don't even want to think about how much mother is corrupting him," Angela shook her head at the thought.
"Nah, if she didn't manage to corrupt him before, she won't manage it now." This earned him a wry short laugh and a faint smile from Angela. She looked up; dried his tears with her thumb and kissed his cheek. She put her arms around his neck and said, "you are always so strong for me on this day." She moved to touch his cheek, "but I know there's only one thing that gets us both through today."
Tony's phone rang. "Right on schedule," he said as he answered and put the caller on speaker.
"Hi Sam," they said in unison.
"Hey, how's Maine?" she asked. Sam knew her part, and every year the conversation was light, close to frivolous. They talked while the sun set, knowing that the sun would rise on September twelfth and they would spend each day thereafter trying to create joy for each other and all their loved ones.