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.
All That I Am
Interesting turn of phrase.
I’ll have to dissect it later because we’ve reached
the barn, which is massive.
In the center is a huge indoor arena with a decent block
of seats. “Do you put on shows here, or just use it for training?”
We used to host regular events, but then life got busy. Maybe we’ll do it again in the future. Who knows?
Meanwhile, it’s good to be able to work the horses year round, not that Sonora rain can rival upstate New York snow. I would’ve killed for this facility in Albany.