September 11, 2001, 945 AM, Brooklyn, New York
Connor MacLeod remembered where he was when former President John F. Kennedy had been shot, and he remembered where he had been in the time of the Boston Tea Party, at the time of former President Abraham Lincoln's assassination, and at the time when immediate past American President Bill Clinton claimed he had not had a sexual relationship with White House intern, Monica Lewinsky. Now, he knew he would too always remember where he had been the first moment he had heard two planes had flown into the two Twin Towers in the financial district of Manhattan Island.
Knowing Rachel Eisenstein and her grandson Noah had plans to visit for breakfast before a planned field trip to the Bronx Zoo, he had decided to visit the corner market to buy the proper ingredients for eggs, vegetarian sausage, and waffles. A Hay Bailer's breakfast he called it, and a good breakfast in his opinion for a growing boy on his first trip to the zoo.
He had been standing in line to make his purchases, when he heard on the portable radio of the news. The store was family owned, in the family of two elderly Jews, who had survived the camps. "Terrible, just terrible," muttered the husband. "Forties Poland over again." His wife had to seize control of the register, while he listened to the radio, but she too lost her concentration, muttering herself, of a new Hitler being behind "such a terrible, terrible attack," but no one seemed to mind.
Connor called Rachel twice, first time to let her know what had happened, and the second to assure her he was on his way home. Letting himself in, the now useless groceries in his arms, he found Noah watching cartoons in the living room, and he found Rachel in the kitchen, huddled over the radio, sipping her coffee.
"Did you tell him?" he whispered.
"No," she shook her head. "Should I?"
Connor shrugged, and he poured coffee for himself. He sat in the chair opposite her. "Did the second tower collapse too?"
"About three or four minutes ago. Who would do this, Da?"
She had let the word slip. A sad smile crossed Connor's face. When he had first found her in World War Two Europe, he had taught her to call him "dad", teaching her specifically the Gaelic word he had called his father. But as she grew older, and he remained ageless, she had long called him Connor.
"Da?" she repeated, looking to him, tears streaking down her cheeks. Connor knew she remembered the early childhood memories from before he found her. He shook his head, and reached across the table for her hand.
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In agreement, Connor and Rachel decided they would postpone the trip to the zoo. Noah was disappointed, but he cheered up, when Connor promised him he could see the monkey house when did they go.
"But why can't we go today?" he asked.
"Because some bad men did a bad thing," Rachel answered.
"Like when I hit my baby sister?"
"Kind of," nodded Rachel. "Remember when I took you to visit the two towers in Manhattan?"
"Uh-huh. You said we to see your chevra."
"Right, well, those someone caused a plane to crash into those towers. The towers collapsed, and all those people inside are now dead."
"Even your chevra?"
"Yes."
Noah scrunched his face, processing the information. "Can I go watch more cartoons now?"
Rachel nodded, but she noticed he slinked to the television, where he normally ran. "His mother will be up with him tonight," she commented dryly to Connor, who cast an ironic smile. He poured them more coffee.
---------------------------------------------------
Ten in the morning, two more knocks sounded on the front door. Connor mumbled something about that being Amanda and Nick, and standing to get the door. Rachel moved to put on more coffee.
"We have muffins left," Nick offered, pulling out a seat for Amanda before sitting himself. "I stopped in the bakery before coming home from work, and I apparently bought more than we could eat ourselves." He paused to accept the coffee, still in desperate need of the caffeine. "Help yourselves."
"You'd think we were sitting Shiva," mumbled Rachel. "Noah?" she called. "Would you like a muffin?"
"No," the little boy called. "Thank you," he added in afterthought.
"We'll keep one for him, just in case," Connor decided, to which Rachel nodded.
"Do we know after anyone else?" Rachel asked, several moments having had passed. Connor had stood, bringing the coffee pot to the table, knowing the need for the caffeine was needed, and he sat again now, the muffin before him untouched. "Fiona? Or Adam? Bella?"
"I called Adam, assure him best I could Nick and I were okay. Assumed you two would be, as neither of you were in Manhattan." Amanda paused to sip her coffee. She had longer hair again, dyed a deep auburn, pulled back into a single French braid, and wore little make-up, along with an old shirt of Nick's and old jeans. She both felt and looked comfortable, unglamorous, and unsure of anything. "Course, he had yet to talk to Joe, or to Fiona." She paused again, a wide-eyed expression suddenly crossing her face. "You were both outside of Manhattan, right? I mean, you had to have been. After all, you are here, and not. . . there. . ."
Connor nodded, and Rachel too nodded, mumbling something of being here when Connor had initially called with the news.
"Good," she breathed in relief. "And, Bella?"
"It doesn't look good for her, sweetie. It's Tuesday." Nick answered, his voice softer than usual, his eyes in a further expression than normal, for his exhaustion was obvious.
"Fuck," Amanda swore, and Rachel hushed her, reminding her Noah was only in the next room, and that he was only five, and that last thing she needed, was for him to present to his parents his newfound word.
"You've corrupted him enough," she chided teasingly.
"Well, someone has to," the woman Immortal responded, but the sarcastic air of the words fell flat.
For one more hour, the four friends sat around. Silence descended, with only the radio as any noise. Somewhere close to ten-thirty, Noah wandered in, complaining his cartoons had been cancelled, when in concern, Rachel asked, "So, what have you have you been watching, sweetheart?"
"News, Savta. Those towers look big to fall."
Rachel nodded, while trying to find someway to answer his unasked question, when the boy climbed into her lap, and reached for a muffin from the white bag. Connor smiled at him, pushing the bag closer.
"Are you Connor?" Noah asked.
"I am."
"You very young. Savta said you old friend."
The three Immortals stifled smiles, and Connor answered, "She meant we have known one another for a long time."
"Oh." But the muffin had diverted his attention.
Fifteen minutes later, at ten forty-five, Fiona called. Talking to everyone for a few minutes, she confirmed she was doing okay, just still shaken, and assured herself they too were fine. She didn't ask after Bella, and they did not say anything after her either.
Some things between close friends are just left better unsaid.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -----------------------------------------------------------------
note: 'chevra' is a Hebrew word for 'friend'
'Shiva' refers to the post-death mourning period in the Jewish faith. Typically friends gather at the house of the deceased's family to offer condolences and food. The word is derived from the Hebrew word 'Shavua' which translates to week. This period does last for seven days following the funeral/death.
Connor MacLeod remembered where he was when former President John F. Kennedy had been shot, and he remembered where he had been in the time of the Boston Tea Party, at the time of former President Abraham Lincoln's assassination, and at the time when immediate past American President Bill Clinton claimed he had not had a sexual relationship with White House intern, Monica Lewinsky. Now, he knew he would too always remember where he had been the first moment he had heard two planes had flown into the two Twin Towers in the financial district of Manhattan Island.
Knowing Rachel Eisenstein and her grandson Noah had plans to visit for breakfast before a planned field trip to the Bronx Zoo, he had decided to visit the corner market to buy the proper ingredients for eggs, vegetarian sausage, and waffles. A Hay Bailer's breakfast he called it, and a good breakfast in his opinion for a growing boy on his first trip to the zoo.
He had been standing in line to make his purchases, when he heard on the portable radio of the news. The store was family owned, in the family of two elderly Jews, who had survived the camps. "Terrible, just terrible," muttered the husband. "Forties Poland over again." His wife had to seize control of the register, while he listened to the radio, but she too lost her concentration, muttering herself, of a new Hitler being behind "such a terrible, terrible attack," but no one seemed to mind.
Connor called Rachel twice, first time to let her know what had happened, and the second to assure her he was on his way home. Letting himself in, the now useless groceries in his arms, he found Noah watching cartoons in the living room, and he found Rachel in the kitchen, huddled over the radio, sipping her coffee.
"Did you tell him?" he whispered.
"No," she shook her head. "Should I?"
Connor shrugged, and he poured coffee for himself. He sat in the chair opposite her. "Did the second tower collapse too?"
"About three or four minutes ago. Who would do this, Da?"
She had let the word slip. A sad smile crossed Connor's face. When he had first found her in World War Two Europe, he had taught her to call him "dad", teaching her specifically the Gaelic word he had called his father. But as she grew older, and he remained ageless, she had long called him Connor.
"Da?" she repeated, looking to him, tears streaking down her cheeks. Connor knew she remembered the early childhood memories from before he found her. He shook his head, and reached across the table for her hand.
-----------------------------------------------------------
In agreement, Connor and Rachel decided they would postpone the trip to the zoo. Noah was disappointed, but he cheered up, when Connor promised him he could see the monkey house when did they go.
"But why can't we go today?" he asked.
"Because some bad men did a bad thing," Rachel answered.
"Like when I hit my baby sister?"
"Kind of," nodded Rachel. "Remember when I took you to visit the two towers in Manhattan?"
"Uh-huh. You said we to see your chevra."
"Right, well, those someone caused a plane to crash into those towers. The towers collapsed, and all those people inside are now dead."
"Even your chevra?"
"Yes."
Noah scrunched his face, processing the information. "Can I go watch more cartoons now?"
Rachel nodded, but she noticed he slinked to the television, where he normally ran. "His mother will be up with him tonight," she commented dryly to Connor, who cast an ironic smile. He poured them more coffee.
---------------------------------------------------
Ten in the morning, two more knocks sounded on the front door. Connor mumbled something about that being Amanda and Nick, and standing to get the door. Rachel moved to put on more coffee.
"We have muffins left," Nick offered, pulling out a seat for Amanda before sitting himself. "I stopped in the bakery before coming home from work, and I apparently bought more than we could eat ourselves." He paused to accept the coffee, still in desperate need of the caffeine. "Help yourselves."
"You'd think we were sitting Shiva," mumbled Rachel. "Noah?" she called. "Would you like a muffin?"
"No," the little boy called. "Thank you," he added in afterthought.
"We'll keep one for him, just in case," Connor decided, to which Rachel nodded.
"Do we know after anyone else?" Rachel asked, several moments having had passed. Connor had stood, bringing the coffee pot to the table, knowing the need for the caffeine was needed, and he sat again now, the muffin before him untouched. "Fiona? Or Adam? Bella?"
"I called Adam, assure him best I could Nick and I were okay. Assumed you two would be, as neither of you were in Manhattan." Amanda paused to sip her coffee. She had longer hair again, dyed a deep auburn, pulled back into a single French braid, and wore little make-up, along with an old shirt of Nick's and old jeans. She both felt and looked comfortable, unglamorous, and unsure of anything. "Course, he had yet to talk to Joe, or to Fiona." She paused again, a wide-eyed expression suddenly crossing her face. "You were both outside of Manhattan, right? I mean, you had to have been. After all, you are here, and not. . . there. . ."
Connor nodded, and Rachel too nodded, mumbling something of being here when Connor had initially called with the news.
"Good," she breathed in relief. "And, Bella?"
"It doesn't look good for her, sweetie. It's Tuesday." Nick answered, his voice softer than usual, his eyes in a further expression than normal, for his exhaustion was obvious.
"Fuck," Amanda swore, and Rachel hushed her, reminding her Noah was only in the next room, and that he was only five, and that last thing she needed, was for him to present to his parents his newfound word.
"You've corrupted him enough," she chided teasingly.
"Well, someone has to," the woman Immortal responded, but the sarcastic air of the words fell flat.
For one more hour, the four friends sat around. Silence descended, with only the radio as any noise. Somewhere close to ten-thirty, Noah wandered in, complaining his cartoons had been cancelled, when in concern, Rachel asked, "So, what have you have you been watching, sweetheart?"
"News, Savta. Those towers look big to fall."
Rachel nodded, while trying to find someway to answer his unasked question, when the boy climbed into her lap, and reached for a muffin from the white bag. Connor smiled at him, pushing the bag closer.
"Are you Connor?" Noah asked.
"I am."
"You very young. Savta said you old friend."
The three Immortals stifled smiles, and Connor answered, "She meant we have known one another for a long time."
"Oh." But the muffin had diverted his attention.
Fifteen minutes later, at ten forty-five, Fiona called. Talking to everyone for a few minutes, she confirmed she was doing okay, just still shaken, and assured herself they too were fine. She didn't ask after Bella, and they did not say anything after her either.
Some things between close friends are just left better unsaid.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -----------------------------------------------------------------
note: 'chevra' is a Hebrew word for 'friend'
'Shiva' refers to the post-death mourning period in the Jewish faith. Typically friends gather at the house of the deceased's family to offer condolences and food. The word is derived from the Hebrew word 'Shavua' which translates to week. This period does last for seven days following the funeral/death.
