FB POST: This Friday, unbelievably, marks the 25th Anniversary of the worst terrorist attack on our soil. I got the idea early last year to begin writing a collection of short stories (fictional, but based in reality) to commemorate the somber memorial. Then I got cold feet. Whether it was my self-consciousness about publishing my work or sensitivity toward the survivors and those who perished 9/11/2001, I quit writing. Only last month did I run the idea by my daughters who tend to be more sensitive on social issues than I. They both told me to trust my gut. And even though I’d feel ok had I published, the deadline is long past.
The title is Unintended Consequences.
My idea, and this just struck me today, is to publish the stories as a series on my blog and share them here for a few days around the anniversary. This timeline was going to be page one and sort of a reference for the stories to follow. (End of post, clipped).
Amanda Boudreaux heads East down Park Avenue, her favorite Zydeco CD in the Ford Focus’ stereo, pumping out music. It’s just another Tuesday and she’s about to make her weekly stop at Krispy Kreme, just ahead on the right. The toe-tapping music from her childhood home on the bayou makes her morning mood bright. The traffic is better on Park than the bottle neck near the mall on Apalachee Parkway and she’s happy as she swings through the Bojangles’ parking lot and into the drive-thru next door.
Across town, her boss folds down the sports page of the Tallahassee Democrat as his wife bends to kiss him goodbye. Ted Williams is taking time to savor his last bit of coffee before he leaves their northside home. He’ll take the backway into town today. He’s in no hurry, as his first stop is his daughter’s private school on Meridian, then a quick jaunt to his dentist’s office.
“You sure you don’t mind dropping Lorelei this morning,” she asks. He assures Madeline that he’s got plenty of time and he’s happy to do it. As he hears her Mercedes back out of the garage, he also savors her image. For a woman of 42, she has certainly kept her feminine curves intact. He smiles, then looks down at his garish weight hanging over the dining room chair he occupies at the moment. He can’t remember when the scales finally topped 300, but he’s been determined to exercise and lose some weight.
Miss Boudreaux rounds her station in the plush lobby of the Williams Insurance Agency, balancing her coffee mug on top of the box of donuts, as her oversized purse slides down her right arm. The pulse of the Zydeco music echoing in her ears seems to match the rhythm and pace of her heart. She sets the donuts and coffee on the receptionist counter and eases down into her ergonomic office chair, ready to greet her coworkers as they file in. Her typical Tuesday greeting at the ready–”At least it’s not Monday. Here, have a donut.”
Meanwhile, Ted is maneuvering his vehicle to the front of the drop-off line at North Florida Christian School. He brushes back a ribbon of his daughter’s golden locks to plant a kiss firmly on her forehead before wishing her a good day in school. She blushes, sure that her friends have seen this fatherly gesture, and steps down from the SUV without looking up. There’s minimal traffic taking the back route to Dr. White’s office and he pulls in behind her building at 7:50 a.m.
Williams Insurance Agency is a business he built from the ground up and Ted is proud of it. Growing up poor with a father in road construction, he worked hard selling insurance policies for big corporations until he was ready, nearly a decade before, to open his own business. He specializes in life and property insurance and his clientele includes most of the blue bloods in North Florida. He grew up amidst the tall, whispering pines north of town and is well-known in the community. Aside from his prospering business, he serves as head deacon at First Baptist downtown and as third basemen for the church’s softball team. His smoked brisket is the favorite at church picnics and he spins quite a yarn as he serves up the tender, succulent slices.
At 8:05, Frank Byers, the president of the Tallahassee Area Chamber of Commerce walks in late for a dental cleaning. “Late as usual,” Ted thinks to himself. He doesn’t think too highly of the lawyer and womanizer who puts on a righteous front from the second row of the church every Sunday and Wednesday night. “How goes it, Theodore?” And there it is, the name that only his mother ever used to address him when he had misstepped. “Fine, Frank. Still feeding the fishes out at Talquin?”
“You know it. Can’t say how many crickets I downed out by the dam last weekend…or how many Coors Light,” he chuckles. “Say, you’ve been sober going on how long is it?”
“Twelve years, since Lorelei was born,” Ted replies.
“Speaking of, how are the wife and daughter? Give Madeline my regards, will ya?” And he’s into the exam area before Ted can respond. The hygienist has been impatiently waiting for him, rolling her eyes as he enters.
Ted checks his watch, 8:12, and knows that he’ll be called back any minute. At his office on Duval Street, Amanda also notes the time, as she’s just answered their first call. She picks at a donut she doesn’t really want and sips what’s left of her coffee.
His cleaning finished, Ted reaches the reception desk to schedule an appointment six months out, but the staff is hovering around the receptionist’s computer monitor. She seems to be streaming a live feed from Manhattan on MSNBC. Over their gasps of horror, he hears what he believes is a low-flying jet screaming over the streets and exploding on impact. It’s 9:03 and the second tower has just been hit.
As he gets his bearings down Monroe Street, he receives a call from Amanda at work. “Sir, I don’t know if you’ve seen or heard the news this morning, but it’s awful,” her voice breaks. “There’s been some kind of attack on the World Trade Center,” but he cuts her off, veering to avoid a slow turner into the Publix parking lot. “I’m listening to what’s happened on the radio. I’m about 10 minutes from you,” he says.
“Well, don’t bother coming in, sir. The Governor has declared a state of emergency and all offices within a mile of the State Capital and his residence are shut down and being evacuated. That means we could be in danger. Do you want us to close or…” He’s not sure what to think. It stands to reason with Governor Bush being the president’s brother that the Capital City could be a target. No one seems to know what’s going on or who is behind it. All he knows is hijacked planes, buildings aflame, possible jumpers and missing jetliners. Now that the state is taking precautionary measures, he decides to do likewise.
“I think in an abundance of caution, let’s send everyone home, Mandy, and close the office for the day. If you’ll print my appointments and make the necessary calls from home, I’ll pay you your full days’ wages.”
“Yes, sir,” she says and hangs up quickly.
Ted’s a little rattled, but his dental checkup went well and he doesn’t mind working from home. What he doesn’t know is that his physical health is teetering on the brink. With clogged arteries to near blockage and undiagnosed diabetes, the three donuts he would’ve had at the office that day would have toppled him, just like the towers that were about to fall.
As fate would have it, Madeline will not become a widow on September 11, 2001, and Lorelei will not face junior high, high school or the rest of her life without her loving father.
(Next short story tomorrow. Check back or follow the link from Facebook).
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