The Dead and the Gone ls-2

by Susan Beth Pfeffer

  He knew he needed to check the bulletin board at St. Margaret’s, if for no other reason than to see if there was a notice about the schools reopening. But instead of walking east to the church, he went west.

  Alex told himself as he walked toward Riverside Drive that the Hudson River would be fine, but even so, when he got to the river, he felt a sense of relief. The river was agitated, but that could have been from the heavy rains on Thursday. New Jersey, across the river, was right where it belonged. If rivers had tides, and Alex had to admit he didn’t know if they did, they didn’t seem too bad.

  Alex turned around and began the walk to St. Margaret’s. There was hardly any traffic compared to the days before, and there weren’t many people on the streets, but there was plenty of noise coming from the apartment buildings. Alex grinned. Usually when the weather was this hot, people had their air conditioners going, but with no electricity, windows were open instead. He heard quarrels, laughter, scoldings, even lovemaking, many of the same sounds he’d heard in Uncle Jimmy’s neighborhood, only now in English instead of Spanish.

  But for all the sounds of life on Eighty-eighth Street, Broadway felt dead. Nothing seemed to be open, not the supermarket, or the coffee shop, or the deli, or the Korean grocery, or the dry cleaner, or the Laundromat, or the liquor store, or the florist, or the Chinese takeout, or the movie theater. He saw a couple of cops but very few other people walking around. Even the fire engines and ambulances seemed to have stopped their downtown runs.

  At least St. Margaret’s had people in it. The bulletin board was surrounded, and it took Alex a couple of minutes before he could see everything that had been posted.

  There were so many sheets that the walls around the bulletin board had been drafted into service as well. The first thing he noticed was a listing of the dead. There weren’t really that many names on it: two sheets, single spaced, three columns across, alphabetical order.

  Alex forced himself to look at the Ms. Nobody named Morales. His knees buckled with relief. As long as Mami wasn’t on the list, there was no reason to think she was dead. That was something he could tell his sisters.

  “Not many names,” a man said, looking over the list.

  “Most of the bodies can’t be identified,” another man replied. “A lot washed out to the sea. And they’re still removing bodies from the subways. You looking for anyone in particular?”

  “No,” the first man said. “Well, a couple of people, but not family. How about you?”

  The second man shook his head. “There’s one friend we’re concerned about but that’s it. We’re lucky.”

  Alex turned away from the list of the dead and saw several pages of handwritten names, with phone numbers next to them.

  HAVE YOU SEEN ANY OF THESE PEOPLE?

  Write down the name, the last known sighting, and phone number to contact with information

  Willing his hand not to shake, Alex wrote down his parents’ names, putting Puerto Rico next to his father’s and 7 train next to his mother’s. Then he wrote their home phone number, sending up a quick prayer that his sisters wouldn’t be the ones to answer the phone if anyone called with bad news.

  The first man looked over at Alex and read what he’d written. “Your parents?” he asked.

  Alex nodded, not sure he could trust himself to speak.

  “You okay?” the man asked. “You have someone to look after you?”

  Alex nodded again.

  “Puerto Rico,” the second man read. “By the coast or inland?”

  “Coast,” Alex choked out.

  The second man shook his head. “San Juan was hit hard,” he said. “All the coast. You and your family will be in my prayers.”

  “Mine, too,” the first man said, gently resting his hand on Alex’s shoulder. “If you need help, you know someone at St. Margaret’s will be here for you. We’re family here, don’t forget that.”

  “I won’t,” Alex said. “Thank you.”

  The two men walked away, their places taken immediately by two others. Alex checked out the rest of the notices on the bulletin board. Monday was going to be a national day of mourning. Schools would reopen on Tuesday. Curlew was still in place. A Mass for the dead would be held daily at 6:00 PM until further notice.

  Alex left the church uncertain where to go, but ending up on Amsterdam Avenue. What few cars were on the street whizzed their way uptown. Alex walked the two blocks to Joey’s pizza parlor. The door was locked, but he looked through the window and spotted Joey behind the counter. Alex knocked on the window, and when Joey looked up, waved.

  Joey walked over to the door and unlocked it. “I’m glad to see you,” Joey said. “I wanted to call but no phones.”

  “I know,” Alex said. “Are you going to open?”

  Joey shook his head. “The ovens are okay,” he said. “But there’s no refrigeration. I’ve lost all my cheese. Can’t have pizza without cheese.”

  “The electricity’s supposed to be back by Monday,” Alex said.

  “That’s what they say,” Joey said. “But what if it comes and goes? And what if the phones don’t work good, either? People call in for pizzas. No, I’m shot. The chains’ll figure a way. Pay off the right people, get all the service they need. But us little guys, we’re goners.”

  “I guess I’m out of a job then,” Alex said.

  “You and me both,” Joey said. “My wife’s already after me for us to move. She says this is just the beginning.”

  “You think so?” Alex asked. “I figure the scientists are working on solutions. And the government. If we get electricity back, that’ll make things better right there.”

  Joey shook his head. “I’m not ready to give up, but my wife’s got a point,” he replied. “It’s not like the tides just hit Wednesday night, like one of those tsunamis, one-shot deal. Tides are twice a day, every day. Full moons will really be killers.”

  “But people will just move away from the coast,” Alex said, trying to sound calm and rational, trying not to think of his father. “Lots of New York City is inland. We’re not getting hit by tides here.”

  “That’s what I said to my wife,” Joey said. “But she says the whole city will erode. I guess the question is how long will it take. Weeks, months, centuries.”

  Alex smiled. “I’m going with centuries,” he said. “The Empire State Building isn’t eroding anytime soon.”

  “Tell that to my wife,” Joey said. “Meantime, I don’t see how I can stay in business, and I don’t know what else to do. Become an undertaker, maybe. But since you’re here, I should settle up with you. How long since I paid you?”

  “Last Friday,” Alex said. “I worked a full day Saturday, three hours on Monday and Tuesday, and four hours on Wednesday.”

  “That’s right,” Joey said. “You were here when the cable went out. I never did find out if the Yankees won. Okay, that’s eighteen hours I owe you for. You got all your tip money?”

  Alex nodded.

  “Here, take this,” he said, handing Alex a batch of bills. “It’s all I got in my wallet.”

  Alex looked over the money. “Too much,” he said, handing a ten-dollar bill back to Joey.

  Joey shook his head. “Take it,” he said. “I got cash at home.”

  “Thank you,” Alex said. “When you reopen, I’ll put in a couple of hours for free.”

  “Deal,” Joey said. “Look, Alex, take care of yourself. You’re a good kid, best worker I ever had. Kids like you, you’re the future. Especially now. Pray for us while you’re at it. All of us.”

  Alex nodded. “I’ll do that,” he said. “I’ll see you soon, Joey.”

  “I hope so,” Joey said. “Here’s to better days.”

  “Better days,” Alex said. As far as he was concerned, they couldn’t come too soon.

  Sunday, May 22

  Much to Alex’s relief, at Mass Father Franco made no announcements. After the service was over, Briana and Julie found friends and joined them. After a
minute or two, Bri ran over to Alex.

  “Kayla’s mother invited us for lunch,” she said. “She said you could come, too.”

  Alex looked over to where Julie was standing. She and her friends were giggling as though nothing had changed.

  “I don’t think so,” Alex said. “Thank her for me, though.”

  “You sure?” Bri asked.

  Alex grinned. “Positive,” he said. “Thanks anyway. Have a good time.”

  He was glad his sisters had friends to talk with. It would make Monday with no school that much easier for all of them. But he was just as glad to have some time alone.

  He used the free time to walk around the west side, not sure what he was looking for. There were more people on the streets, but they seemed as dazed as he was.

  Just when Alex became convinced nothing would ever be open again, he chanced upon an open hardware store. He was taken aback by the sight of the normal: paint cans, screwdrivers, duct tape all neatly in place.

  Alex spotted a couple of flashlights. It wouldn’t hurt to have another one, he thought, in case the blackouts continued.

  “Thirty dollars,” the man behind the counter said.

  “Thirty dollars?” Alex said. “For a flashlight?”

  “I only got two left,” the man said. “Supply and demand. The last one’ll be forty bucks.”

  Alex put the flashlight away. They could live without it. But as he reached the door, he turned around. “Batteries,” he said. “You have any batteries left:”

  “They’ll cost you,” the man said.

  Alex pulled out his wallet. He had fifty-two dollars on him. “I need Cs and Ds,” he said.

  The man looked behind the counter. “I got a four-pack of Cs for twenty bucks,” he said. “Two Ds’ll cost you ten.”

  They had food, Alex told himself, plenty of canned goods, and starting on Tuesday when school reopened, they wouldn’t have to worry about lunches. But who knew when electricity would get back to normal.

  “I’ll take them,” he said, handing over a twenty and a ten.

  The man put the batteries in a bag. “You won’t regret it,” he said. “Next guy comes in, I’ll charge twice that.”

  I bet you will, Alex thought. But it won’t be my problem.

  As he opened the apartment door, he noticed how silent it was. There was always somebody at home, with six people in the five-room apartment. Even when they were sleeping, there was the constant background of street noise, cars driving by, honking horns, people laughing or shouting. The washers and driers in the basement laundry room rumbled well past midnight, and in the wintertime, the oil burner that kept the entire building heated drowned out all the other sounds.

  But now even West Eighty-eighth Street was quiet. Quiet as a grave, Alex thought.

  He sat on the sofa and told himself this was the ideal time to cry, when his sisters couldn’t see him. He knew there was no shame in crying. Papi had sobbed the day Carlos went off to boot camp. He’d cried just the other day when he heard Nana had died. But Alex didn’t shed a single tear. Maybe it was just too quiet to cry.

  He spotted the transistor radio, put the C batteries in it, and spun the dial until he got a New York station. It was good to know it was on the air, even if all the news being broadcast was horrible.

  “A telephone hotline has been set up for assistance in locating missing New York City family members,” the woman on the radio said. “If one of your family has been missing since Wednesday night, call 212-555-CITY. That’s 212-555-2489.”

  A phone number. Did that mean the phones were working? Alex turned off the radio and picked up the telephone. Sure enough, there was a dial tone.

  His hand shook almost uncontrollably as he dialed the hospital number. Could it be he’d find his mother alive and well in just a matter of moments? He pictured Bri’s and Julie’s reactions when he told them the good news.

  “You have reached St. John of God Hospital. For patient information, press 1…”

  Alex held for further assistance, figuring someone there could help him track Mami down. But hearing music on the other end of the line was surreal. Alex listened to one song, then another, a third, and a fourth—treacly ballads, the kind Bri liked. By the seventh song, Alex wondered how much longer he’d be forced to listen. By the twelfth, he imagined Mami walking in—while he remained on hold.

  In the middle of the fifteenth song, a woman’s voice said, “St. John of God Hospital.”

  Alex’s heart pounded. “Hi,” he said, trying to sound calm. “My mother, her name is Isabella Morales, works as an operating room technician at St. John of God. I’m calling to see if I can speak to her.”

  “Impossible,” the woman said. “We’re keeping our lines open for emergencies. No personal calls are allowed.”

  “All right,” Alex said, terrified that the woman might hang up on him. “I don’t really need to talk to her. I just need to make sure that she’s all right. She was called in Wednesday night. Can you find out if she’s there, if she’s working?”

  “I’m sorry,” the woman said. “I have no way of knowing what personnel is on duty right now.”

  “But someone at the hospital must know,” Alex said. “She would have taken the subway around nine-thirty Wednesday night. We haven’t heard from her since.”

  “I understand,” the woman said. “But it’s chaos here, and it has been since Wednesday. Everyone is working twenty-four-hour shifts. I haven’t been home since Wednesday, either. I can’t stop to look around for your mother.”

  “There’s no one you can transfer me to?” Alex asked, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice. “Someone in the surgical department?”

  “They’re not taking phone calls,” the woman said. “And I really can’t stay on the phone with you.”

  “Just one more question, please,” Alex begged. “Have your phones been on for a while? Have people been able to make calls out?”

  “We got phone service back yesterday afternoon,” the woman said. She was silent for a moment. “I’ll pray for you and your mother,” she said. “Her name is Isabella Morales?”

  “Yes, that’s right,” Alex replied.

  “Give me your phone number,” she said. “If I find someone who knows anything about her, I’ll call.”

  “Thank you,” Alex said. “Thank you so much.” He gave the woman his phone number, and only after he heard the sound of the phone on the other end hanging up did he put the phone down.

  They’d had phone service yesterday. Sometime in the past twenty-four hours, Mami must have had the chance to call home. Alex picked up the phone and dialed for voice mail. No new messages. Just to be sure, he pressed 1 anyway, but there weren’t any saved messages, either.

  Mami would have called. Somehow she would have found the time.

  Maybe she’d called Uncle Jimmy. He dialed the number and Aunt Lorraine answered.

  “Hi,” he said. “It’s Alex. How are things going?”

  “How do you expect things to be going?” Aunt Lorraine replied. “The world is coming to an end. My babies will never live to have babies of their own. God has turned His back on us, and you ask how things are going?”

  Alex waited until he was sure she’d finished. “Bri and Julie and I were in church this morning, so there was no one home if anyone called,” he said. “We haven’t heard from Mami since Wednesday. Has she called you?”

  “I went to church but Jimmy didn’t,” Aunt Lorraine said. “Wait, I’ll ask him. Jimmy! Did you hear from Isabella this morning? It’s Alex. Isabella’s missing.”

  “I didn’t say she was missing,” Alex said, but it didn’t matter. Jimmy took the phone from his wife.

  “Alex,” he said. “Isabella’s missing?”

  “I don’t know that she’s missing,” Alex said. “She went to the hospital on Wednesday, and we haven’t heard from her since. I just called the hospital, and they have no way of knowing who’s there, so it could be she’s been there since
Wednesday and just hasn’t been able to call.”

  “We haven’t heard from her,” Jimmy said. “Is your father back?”

  “No,” Alex said. “But he called when we were at the bodega. Bri spoke to him.”

  “What did he say?” Jimmy asked.

  He didn’t say anything, Alex thought, and it might not have been him anyway. But Jimmy had concerns of his own, and Alex was man of the house. “It wasn’t a great connection,” he said. “Bri couldn’t make out much.”

  “But he called, so he must be okay,” Jimmy said. “What about Carlos?”

  Alex was relieved he could be honest. “I spoke to him Thursday,” he said. “His unit’s been deployed, but he’s okay.”

  “Great, that’s great,” Jimmy said. “Luis and Carlos are all right,” he yelled to Lorraine. “No word from Isabella, though.”

  “We’ll probably hear from her before you do,” Alex said. “I just wanted to find out if you’d spoken to her.”

  “No,” Jimmy said. “Look, Alex, you okay? You looking after your sisters okay? You want to send them to us until Luis or Isabella gets back?”

  Alex decided against it. Julie and Lorraine didn’t get along that well, and Bri would be happier at home.

  “No, we’re fine,” Alex said. “Thanks anyway.”

  “All right,” Jimmy said. “Take care now. We’ll be praying for all of you. And when you hear from Isabella, call us.”

  “Sure will,” Alex said, and hung up. He walked back to the sofa and thought about making a list, putting in a neat format the arguments for and against his mother still being alive.

  He looked at his watch. It was close to two o’clock, and there was no way of knowing when his sisters might get back. If he was going to do any more calling, he couldn’t wait.

  212-555-CITY.

  “You have reached the New York City Emergency Hotline for family members of missing, presumed dead, New York City residents. If your missing family member is a man, press one. If it is a woman, press two. For children under the age of twelve, press three.”