Eminent Silence

by Tristan Carey

  What was it like for Mom? What had she seen before it was over? Had she been stuck at home like everyone else? Had she decided to hide, thinking it was the best thing to do? Hell's Kitchen got hit the worst in the attack. She shouldn't have stayed. I should've done something, anything —

  What? What could I have done? There was nothing rational about this. I wasn't even there —

  I couldn't breathe.

  I stumbled, caught myself against the wall with one hand, the other at my throat. I opened my mouth but I couldn't breathe. What the hell was happening? I just — I couldn't breathe. Was I choking?

  The only answer I could come up with was: asthma attack.

  The walls were too close. I could feel it pushing against me, trying to trap me and I pulled away with a sudden jerk. Still gasping for breath, still wondering why it felt like I was drowning.

  The halls were narrowing the longer I just stood there. I had to get out of here.

  I needed air.

  The balcony. The hallway tilted beneath me, but the doors were right there. I went straight for them. I couldn't remember which office I was supposed to go into. I didn't care anymore. I just needed to get out of here.

  I slammed into the double doors with the full force of my body, before catching myself on a guardrail to the steps below. The world continued to spin, and I nearly spilled right over the top level of the balcony to the deck below. I gasped, clenching the metal rail in my fists, trying to ground myself as I was suddenly overwhelmed by vertigo and had to close my eyes.

  Wind blew in my face. So bitter, so fresh. It hit me like a brick wall. I didn't have my winter coat on. I'd left inside the waiting room. But it was okay. The chill against my skin was a relief to the suffocating warmth inside.

  There was no one out here. I was glad. Finally, the cold was good for something.

  'Hey, miss, are you all right?'

  Or so I thought.

  I didn't see who spoke, and I could only shake my head silently, crumpling against the railing as my knees gave out beneath me. The outdoor air was welcoming but my heart was still racing. I couldn't calm down. My instincts were telling me to run run run but from what? There was nothing here. There was nothing here and even if there was I couldn't see them I couldn't see anything I couldn't do anything I couldn't get home I couldn't get to Mom I wasn't fast enough I didn't know I didn'tknowIdidn'tknow —

  'Whoa, hey, it's okay, it's okay!' the voice said, drawing closer, like some invisible ghost swooping in on a cloud of warmth. I felt the presence of a hand on my shoulder, gently guiding me to the floor. 'Just sit down, okay?'

  I wanted to laugh but my chest was so locked up I could only take quick, shuddering breaths.

  'Can you tell me what's wrong?' he asked. Male voice, I finally managed to parse. Older, soft, soothing. Like someone who's done this before. When I couldn't answer his question, he continued, 'Miss, you're hyperventilating. You need to slow down or you're going to pass out. Just take it slow. One breath at a time. In and out. In, out.'

  I could already feel it coming. The light-headedness, the tingle in my hands and feel, my loosening grip on the railing. The way the world just wanted to slip out from beneath me like a treadmill going too fast.

  But I could still feel his touch, and I leaned into it, even as I hung my head, squeezed my eyes tighter, swallowed against the lump in my throat. Took a deep, shaky breath, released it slow. The voice said, 'Good, good. Keep doing that, you're doing great.'

  It went on like that for a little bit. The world stopped swaying after a while, and I could finally let go of the railing, my hand cramped from the taut muscles. I didn't even realize my eyes were open, that I was seeing, until I touched my face and found myself back on the balcony, with a man sitting next to me, watching me with a concerned but encouraging smile.

  'You're okay,' he said, patting me on the shoulder. The red star was a burning glare against the cool gray of the balcony around me. I frowned, bleary, confused. When had I taken off my jacket? 'It was just a panic attack.'

  I finally took him in for the first time, getting a good look. He seemed about middle-aged, with black curly hair graying at the temples. He peered at me over a pair of black spectacles, this sort of inquisitive — but kind — expression on his face. The face of a man that, for some reason, made me feel instantly at ease. Considering how he'd just helped me out, maybe he just had that sort of natural air.

  'P-panic attack?' I repeated, startled by how hoarse my voice sounded. I wiped at my face and discovered I had been crying. Jesus. 'What? That was...I thought it was just asthma…'

  I knew it wasn't, even before the man snorted. 'Well, if it was, that was one of the worse asthma attacks I've ever seen. Do you need any help? You should probably go home to recover.'

  'N-no!' I went ramrod straight, scrambling to my feet in a rush. But I overestimated myself, lost my balance, and caught the railing for support. My head swam, and I had to fight back a wave of nausea. The man rose slowly after me, looking increasingly concerned as I shook my head. 'I-I have an interview today. I c-can't miss it, I can't —'

  'Look, I think they'd understand,' he tried to reason with me, scratching the back of his head. 'A panic attack is a good reason to reschedule, if you ask me. They deal with young kids all the time here. Is this your first interview?'

  I swallowed, trying to calm myself again, and nodded mutely.

  'So, nerves, then,' The man shrugged with a smile, as if that were all it was. As if he had any idea. But I understood what he saw. Just a freaked out kid not ready to be an adult.

  'Not exactly,' I said, turning my face away. My mouth was completely dry. My fingers had gone stiff with cold but I couldn't pull them from the rail. 'I-I saw that mural in the office b-back there, and it...I don't know, it just…'

  'Oh,' the man said, his chin rising as it dawned on him. By the tone of his voice, I didn't have to explain what it was about. 'I'm sorry. Were you there?'

  'No.'

  My answer was curt, and he gave me an odd look, as if not expecting that answer. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, clearly unsure what to do with this information. Again, he said, 'Oh.'

  After a pause, he finally intuited the truth. 'You lost someone.'

  It wasn't even a question, like he just knew. I opened my mouth to say 'yes', but nothing came out. He seemed to understand, nodding without a word. A silence fell between us as my heart rate finally leveled out again. I broke the quiet with, 'Were you there?'

  'The Incident? Yeah,' The man nodded, pursing his lips and looking away. 'Not gonna lie, it kinda sucked.'

  A giggle escaped my mouth, although it sounded a little teary. In order to save face, I bent down and picked up my fallen blazer, wrapping it around my hands. My fingers were so cold I couldn't feel the texture of the fabric, and I started rubbing them together to warm them up.

  He cleared his throat. 'Well, if you want to save that interview, I guess you can always go back inside. Although in my professional opinion, I think you're better off taking a break. Maybe come back when you feel better?'

  That was unacceptable. But he was right. I just gave him a befuddled look, 'What are you, a doctor?'

  'Of a sort,'

  I frowned at him. He didn't look like a doctor — no white lab coat, nothing that indicated he worked in either science or medicine. Just a jacket, button-up shirt, pair of jeans. He was even wearing a bare of worn green sneakers, like a dorky soccer dad. I glanced up at the building, then back at him. 'Y-you work here?'

  'Uh,' he paused, then said, 'Not exactly. Look, I don't know what's really going on, but I can call you a cab if you want —'

  'Pretending to be a doorman now, Bruce?' came a new voice. I jumped as the doors behind us burst open and out walked a dark-haired man in a black suit. 'What, life here isn't keeping you occupied enough?'

  I didn't recognize him until he breezed right past me, playing on his tablet. I blinked several time
s, turning on the spot to watch him pass, my jaw dropping.

  Tony Stark.

  The man, Bruce, just rolled his eyes. I stared at him, too. He knew Tony Stark? Who the heck was he? 'Very funny. I was just helping this young lady here.'

  'Oh yeah?' Tony Stark stopped on the lower deck, turning around to face me with a quirked eyebrow. He looked me up and down, apparently sizing me up, then threw a doubtful expression at Bruce. 'With what?'

  Bruce opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, then gestured vaguely in my direction. He was too awkward to speak on my behalf, and I froze for a second, before answering, 'I-I had a panic a-attack. I was here for my interview, for the mentoring p-program, but — but I missed it, I just, I couldn't —'

  My stuttering only got worse the longer I talked and I just kept shaking my head like an idiot. It wasn't just my increased nervousness, but being watched by Tony Stark while I continued to fumble the ball — that unreadable expression of his, sort of skeptical, sort of amused. I couldn't tell what he was thinking. Probably that I was an idiot. Realizing I was rambling now, I just closed my eyes and winced. 'I-I'm sorry, I know you don't care, you have better things to do —'

  'Amelia Fletcher,' Tony Stark cut me off. I blinked, startled, but he was busy studying the tablet cradled in his arm. When I didn't answer, his eyes flicked up to me again. 'That's your name, isn't it?'

  'Uh,' I wavered on my feet. 'Y-yes?'

  It came out like a question. Tony Stark looked unimpressed, going back to his tablet. 'What, you aren't sure? Says your interview was twenty minutes ago. Sheryl marked you as absent, but that's clearly not the case...I'll just mark you down as 'late… panic attack, did you say?'

  'Yeah, um,' My mouth hung open for a second as I struggled to understand what was going on. Tony Stark was still reading that tablet. Wait, was that my resume? 'I didn't mean to — I mean, I know I was supposed to show up but then I just couldn't breathe and —'

  'Eh, don't worry about it, happens to everyone.' Tony Stark waved a dismissive hand, still not looking at me as he scrolled down the page he was reading. 'Nice tat by the way.'

  He gestured at my shoulder, not even looking up, but my hand still went to cover my shoulder in embarrassment. First a panic attack, and now he saw my tattoo. I was as far away from professional as I could get right now. I didn't want to think of how disappointed Aunt May would be when she found out how badly I screwed this up. It was just supposed to be a simple interview. The rules were easy to follow: don't freak out, and don't show your tattoo.

  Well, too late for that.

  'Kinda punk-rock, I like it,' Tony Stark nodded approvingly, which was the last reaction I'd expect from a bold tattoo. But before I could say anything, he forged on with a brusque tone: 'Says here you're an honors student at Midtown School of Science and Technology. Good place. Hey, actually one of my, er, interns works there. Peter Parker, you know him?'

  The familiar name was like a shot of adrenaline. I straightened a little, tucking my blazer against my stomach, my shoulders hunching up. 'Yeah, P-Peter's my — He's my cousin. I've known him since, uh, forever.'

  'Cousins?' Tony Stark lifted his head in thought, towards the sky, then back to me. He wagged a finger, saying, 'Oh, yeah, I think he might've mentioned you once or twice. Left Happy an hour-long voice message about you coming back from the dead, whatever that means. Kept making weird Top Gun references.'

  'It's a, ah, long story.'

  'Well, nobody has time for one of those, I've got a board meeting to ignore in twelve minutes,' Tony Stark went on, checking his watch, before shaking it up his sleeve again. 'So, it says here you're fluent in French, Spanish, and Russian. Jeez. You'd give even my top translators a run for their money. Can you really speak all three?'

  'Th-that's correct,' I bit my lip, tilted my head. I'd left out Sokovian, feeling that would've been weird to read. Not that it wasn't taught in schools or anything, but 1) it wasn't a lesson Midtown offered and 2) Everyone already knew I'd been in Europe for a while and I didn't want to give them any other ideas. On top of all that, I still wasn't sure what was going on here. 'I-Is this an interview?'

  'Well, that's the reason why you're here, right?' Tony Stark threw me a look, like I was slow to catch on. 'Besides, you look fine to me. So do you usually stutter like that or do you need, like, a glass of water or something? Personally a shot of whiskey on the rocks usually works for the jitters, but I probably shouldn't be saying that to a minor.'

  'No, I'm f-fine,' I said, hating myself for messing up even that short reply. 'It's been like this since I was little. I've been…I've been getting b-better, though.'

  If this counted as another point against me, Tony Stark didn't let on. Without even addressing that, he asked, 'How soon can you start?'

  'Anytime,' I said immediately. I understood what he said a second afterwards. 'Wait, I got the job?'

  'Do you want it?'

  'Y-yes.'

  'Then you got the job,' Tony Stark said with a curt shrug. He tapped something on to his tablet, waited, then continued, 'We've got plenty of mentorship positions open here. Dani needs an assistant for the twelve-and-under groups, and James hosts an English class for immigrants —'

  'No.'

  'No what?' Tony Stark glanced up at my again, frowning.

  'I can't work here,' I said, gripping the railing to steady myself. Saying 'no' to Tony Stark seemed like a big risk, considering he just gave me a job and could just as easily take it away, but I had to be firm about this. 'Not in this building, I mean. I just… I can't.'

  I couldn't walk in everyday and see that mural. I didn't want to be reminded of this experience every time I came here. I especially didn't want it to happen again.

  Surprisingly, this didn't seem to bother Tony Stark. He raised his eyebrows and said, 'Hey, fine by me. We got off-site positions, too. How do you feel about a one-on-one job? Just you and another kid.'

  'S-sounds good to me,' I said, relieved, slumping against the railing a little bit. That went over a lot better than I expected. If it had come down to it, I might've rejected the job entirely. The thought of proving Morita right was an unpleasant thought, but having panic attacks sounded a lot worse.

  'Fantastic,' Tony Stark said, not missing a beat. I couldn't tell if he was annoyed or just straight to business. I decided on the latter, when he added, 'We've got a kid on the Upper East Side, Antony Kasyanenko — wow, that's a mouthful — recent exchange student from Russia. Needs help with science and math. Sounds like it's right up your alley, Amelia.'

  'It's Mia,' I said weakly. I didn't think everything would be set up so soon. I felt a little off-kilter just trying to keep up.

  'Sorry?'

  'Mia,' I repeated, feeling like an idiot as I forced myself to speak louder. 'M-my name. I prefer Mia. O-only my mom calls me Amelia.'

  'Alrighty then, Mia,' Tony Stark took this in stride, just like everything else. He started pacing back and forth in front of me. If the wind chilled him, he gave no indication, although his nose and ears were starting to turn a little pink. 'Well, that's simple enough. Pair you with Mr. Kasyanenko and get you on your way. Just need you to sign here.'

  I was almost alarmed when he walked right up to me and handed me the tablet. I had to force myself to take it from his hands, and with a trembling finger, signed my name on the digital form. When I handed it back to him, I found myself a little startled to see how...normal Tony Stark was up close. He seemed so imposing and cool on TV, when in reality he was shorter than me. His eyes were about level to my nose.

  Perhaps realizing this as well, he frowned, looking me up and down again before taking a generous step back. 'Right. I'll get this sent to your guardian and whoever runs that school of yours, and you're all set to go. How's today sound?'

  'Today?'

  'Yeah, you know,' Tony Stark rolled his eyes, spun a hand in a circle in the move-it-along gesture. 'Your job? Hello? You gotta meet the kid first before
you can help him.'

  'Wait, now?' I pointed at the floor, aghast. Tony Stark was even more efficient than I first thought. I didn't think everything could be settled in under an hour.

  'What, you got something better to do?' Tony Stark threw me a funny look, then flicked his hand towards the door. 'Hop to it, Beanstalk, we don't have all day. I've still got that board meeting, remember? Can't keep taking care of you crazy kids. You can pick up your company badge and phone at the desk inside. It's got the address and all the files you need already on it. Why are you still standing here? Vámonos!'

  I stumbled a little as I backed up, trying to decide whether to smile with glee or panic again because Tony Stark was operating on a higher, faster level than I was. I was sorely unprepared for the expectations for this job, and yet I was excited to actually be doing something again. But as I turned around, I remembered the other man, Bruce — he was no longer standing behind me anymore. In fact, he'd completely disappeared.