Having little else to do she dressed for dinner and read a book while awaiting Tony’s arrival. He was expected home at seven, but he surprised her by entering her suite about five thirty. She smiled but immediately recognized something amiss in his expression. Her heart raced, wondering, What have I done?
He didn’t speak, put some papers on the sofa, and knelt before her. The papers reminded her of Meredith’s interview, but he wasn’t enraged. Distressed would be a better assessment. “Tony, what is it?” He was as shaken as she’d ever seen him. He lowered his head to her lap. Lifting his face, she said, “Seriously, you’re scaring me. What’s the matter?”
“I came home as soon as I saw the news release. I knew you would want to know. You probably don’t believe me, but I am sorry.”
Claire looked into his eyes, sincerity. With trembling hands she reached for the papers. She had no idea what she was about to read, but it didn’t take a psychic to know it was bad.
Tragic Accident Claims the Life of Young Gaming Phenomenon
Simon Johnson, 28, of Palo Alto, California died Wednesday,
November 3, 2011, after a tragic accident.
Claire put the papers down and ran to the bathroom. She was suddenly ill. She hadn’t seen him in eight years, hadn’t consciously thought of him. Now he was gone.
Vomiting caused her to tremble. She turned to see Tony standing in the doorway, watching his wife. She sank to the floor not knowing what he would say or do regarding her response. He probably would think it inappropriate. She didn’t care, unexpectedly too weak to defend herself. The cool bathroom tile soothed her pounding head, she wept. Claire’s eyes closed as she surrendered to whatever was coming her way.
Tony knelt down, helped her up, carried her back to the suite, and gently laid her on the sofa. He then sat with her head on his lap. They didn’t speak for a long time. Claire cried. She cried for Simon, not a lost love. She was married to someone else. She cried for a life lost too young. The article said he was twenty-eight. She was twenty-eight. That was too young to die.
Finally, she managed, “How did he die?”
“The article said his plane went down in a remote area over the mountains.” The sobs resounded. “The authorities found the crash site, no survivors. It came across my news feed and I rushed home.”
Claire regained enough composure to sit. “He was a friend. I’m not upset because he and I were involved. He was just too young to die.”
Tenderly hugging her, he said, “I really understand. I overreacted before.” He gently moved her hair away from her face. “It said he was recently engaged.” That news restarted Claire’s tears. She wanted him to be married and loved by someone. When she calmed, he brought her tissues and she read the rest of the news release:
Officials found the crash site of Mr. Johnson’s personal aircraft in the upper elevations of the Sierra Nevada Mountain range. Mr. Johnson’s flight plan indicated that he was on his way home to Palo Alto after a meeting with investors in the Los Angeles area. Mr. Simon Johnson, self-made millionaire, is best known for his gaming creations. His creative start occurred with Shedis-tics, a Rawlings Industries subsidiary in Northern California. Mr. Johnson began his own gaming company, Si-Jo, in 2005. Mr. Johnson, originally from Indiana, was scheduled to wed Ms. Amber McCoy of Palo Alto, California on April 21, 2012. Information regarding services has yet to be released by family.
Claire put down the pages and laid her head on Tony’s chest. He put his arms around her and she drifted between sobbing, crying, and dreaming. When she awoke, her head pounded and her eyes ached swollen and tender. Tony was still there, holding her. She got up and went to the bathroom, washed her face, and came back out. “I think I am done. Thank you for being so understanding.”
He motioned for her to return to the sofa. She did. He put his arm around her. “Did you know he worked for one of my companies?”
“He told me that in Chicago, saying how strange fate can be. He said he wanted to thank you for the great start.”
“You didn’t tell me.”
“I didn’t have the chance.” Tony didn’t respond. What could he say?
The next day, Tony worked from home.
Claire rested on the sunporch, feeling her emotions teetering between sad and empty. Despite the recent drop in temperature, merciful sunshine made the porch comfortable. The trees were bare and the grass resumed its winter gray cast. She thought how the entire situation seemed unreal and wondered about Amber McCoy and Simon’s parents. She couldn’t imagine what they were going through.
Hoping the sunlight would improve her mood, she lay on the loveseat and contemplated life and death. Death seemed peaceful and predictable. She hadn’t thought that way for over a year. Tony found her staring into space and spoke sympathetically. “There is a private memorial for Simon on Sunday in Madison, Indiana.” Claire turned to her husband. Her makeup was done and her hair styled, but her eyelids were swollen and her eyes seemed distant.
“Okay.” She weighed his words. “We should send flowers.”