Short Stories

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Together Again


Judy sobbed uncontrollably. Then, after her third try, she successfully placed the phone receiver back onto the dining room wall mount.


“Oh God!” she pleaded, ” please bring him back alive!”

Her husband, Daryl Foster, was visiting an old friend from high school on the 37th floor of the South Tower, The first of the World Trade Center buildings that collapsed. The police returned her phone call three hours earlier, stating they have not found his body yet.

Since then, she compulsively dialed Daryl’s cell phone number, hoping to hear his voice. Instead, she repeatedly heard “the caller is out of range.”

Her body muscles began to tighten, and her heart rate increased. She pictured him crushed by a series of floors that caved in from above him. Then, she decided not to think about it anymore.

She decided instead to reminisce on happier times. She thought of the walk they took under the moonlit sky just two days earlier, and their anniversary dinner at her favorite Middle Eastern restaurant a month ago.

Then, she slipped into her favorite leather chair, as she viewed another taping of the South Tower collapsing while emitting brown and gray atomic–like smoke.

As she watched, she wondered if and when Daryl would return. The pain of not knowing felt like a stab in the heart.

Riding on a downswing of despair, she had imagined herself making a noose out of the off-white spiral phone cord, and tying it as tight around her head as she could. Then, she shook her head in disgust. How could I be so selfish, she thought, Daryl needs me. Our children need me.

After she dismissed her fleeting suicidal tendencies, she decided to make herself a cup of instant French Vanilla Cappuccino. She walked back into the living room and sat in her chair, in a more upright position then last time. She didn’t know if it was the coffee, or someone praying for her, or God telling her that Daryl was alive, but she suddenly felt strong again.

Therefore, she prayed for Daryl and other victims, and the victim's families.

Petitioning with God took her mind off her troubles for a little while, but then, she started to feel like an abandoned child. Did God even hear her?

Her muscles cramped again. Then, she began to huff and pant.

To calm herself, she decided to relax in a bubble bath. Before she poured the strawberry/lavender liquid into the slowly rising water level, she inhaled its bouquet-like aroma which was a temporary Utopia for her present worries.

Then, she put her hand under the running faucet.

“Ow!” She said to herself.

The water was the way she liked it–hot enough to make her skin turn red. She slowly descended into the water, supporting herself with her right arm on the outer
edge of the tub.

“Ah!” She screamed. Her left foot slipped and she fell flat, totally immersed in the water. While still six inches under, she told herself, my husband is probably dead, and tonight maybe I was meant to die as well. Then she tried to convince herself to lift her head out of the water.

However, she did the opposite. Then, she started counting...1...2...3...

She continued....18...19...20...

Her head was still below water level...She wondered why she was counting. She thought perhaps it was a type of resolution, or follow-through technique. Or maybe it was to distract her from having to think about the repercussions of her determination to drown herself.

Suddenly, she could feel her head getting hot and tense. The air in her lungs started to seep out, wanting to burst like water behind a dam.

Then, she heard a faint, instrumental sound. She wondered if it was the sound of Heaven. She didn’t know if she was worthy of that place, and she new that one of the angels at the front entrance would ask her if she has a reservation. Did she remember to tell God to prepare a room for her, and that she needed it indefinitely?

The count continued...38...39...40...

As she counted, she dreamed of the Angel with the book at the front gate to heaven. In Judy’s mind he asked for her name, and began to turn the pages of the Divine Appointment Book. Then, the count stopped.

Abruptly, she thrust her head out of the water. She quickly exhaled, gasped for a fresh air supply, and realized that the sound she heard was not of heaven! She jumped up, and didn’t even bother drying herself. Then she swiftly bolted to the phone, leaving trails of water from the bathroom to the dining room. She reached for the receiver like a basketball star attempting a slam dunk.

Thousands of questions ran through her mind. Maybe it’s the police or the rescue team. Maybe it’s Daryl. Hopefully it’s good news. What if it isn’t?

“Yes?” She answered, phone to her right ear.

“Yes, this is Mrs. Foster.” The caffeine from the cappuccino, and the quick race to the phone had her heart pumping. Her blood flowed like a river rapid through her veins. This was the moment of revelation.

“H- H-He’s alive!” Judy dropped the phone, forgetting the police were on it, and paraded in a circle around the room. She raised her hands, clapped, and shouted praises to God.

Then she noticed the dangling phone receiver. She quickly picked it up.

“Oh! I’m sorry officer, are you still there?”

The officer responded affirmatively. He explained to her, that yes, her husband was alive, and in critical condition–his rib and collar bones were broken, and he that he had third degree burns all over his body.

“I’m grateful enough, to hear that there is hope, after what I have been through in the past few hours, especially since less than a half hour ago. I almost ended my life because I couldn’t handle the suspense . . . thanks officer for your understanding . . . oh I’m so sorry, your older brother was reported dead ... how are you handling it? ...sounds like you have good friends . . . Jesus is helping you also? ...I believe He’s save my life as well as my husbands . . .yes if it weren’t for God, I would have ended my life...I admire your strong faith too . . . yeah, I guess you’re right. Finding out the truth does help, even though your brother is not alive. You were blessed to find out right away...”

After she and the officer talked, they prayed for each other. Judy prayed for comfort for the officer, and the safety of all the rescue personnel. The officer thanked God that Judy’s husband was alive, and prayed that he would quickly recover.

Before Judy hung up, she received the whereabouts of her husband, so she can get there as fast as possible.

“I realize the subways may be jammed packed, and the bus service may not be running, but I’ll get to Manhattan if I have to walk! Thanks again officer . . .goodbye!”

Before she left to see Daryl, she stuffed craft supplies, clothes, non-perishable foods, first aid supplies, and personal items into a suitcase on wheels. She not only wanted to see her husband, but she wanted to be of some use in downtown Manhattan.

She didn’t bother trying to drive. Highways were jammed everywhere.

While she rode the subway, she had plenty of time during delays to make handmade cards for the Manhattan Police Department– and for the officer who assisted her over the phone.

She exited the subway at the station nearest to the St. Vincent Trauma center. Then she ran as if she were competing in a marathon. She raced past beeping horns, crying wives, embracing brothers, and rescue personnel carrying people on stretchers.

Two and a half hours upon boarding the subway, she stood by Daryl’s bedside, holding his hand. She loved him through the third-degree burns on his face.

Tears of joy dispensed like well water from the corner of her eyes.

“Honey...they found you! Praise God!”

Daryl made every effort he could to smile, while lifted his head up slightly. His face wrenched, showing pain and discomfort from the burns, and broken collar bone. She lowered her face toward his as he rested his head back on the pillow. There lips met, and they responded gently to each others kiss. They both new how great is was to be alive, and they were glad to be together again.

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