That’s when I looked down and saw the carnage begin. The Athenia under siege, first by the U-30 and then The Vaterland. The first explosion blew a large volume of water into the air and destroyed the Athenia’s bulkhead. It also shattered an oil tank and destroyed the access stairs to the upper decks from the third-class and tourist dining saloons. The lower-class passengers were trapped below.
The oil slick caught fire immediately and covered the water surrounding the ship with a thick blanket of flame. I found out later that it was impossible for passengers trapped in the dining-room to escape, so given a choice between drowning or burning to death—they descended into the frigid darkness below decks and snuffed out their own lives in oil.
Shortly afterwards the Athenia was struck again by a missile projected through the air that was not from the U-30, which had already submerged, but The Vaterland. The second explosion hit portside with terrific force, destroyed the ship’s radio shack and created a column of black smoke that quickly billowed to a thousand feet in the cool, night air. A funeral spire for the Athenia and her spiraling death count.
The swarm of Nazis ravaged the civilian ship while Garbo and I watched from above, helpless. And in my mind’s eye, I imagined Lars standing between the two smokestacks waving us on. Waving goodbye from the ship he had called home.
Neither Garbo nor I said a word as we lifted above the cloud cover, emerged into the night sky. I listened for the report of rifle fire, but none came. I didn’t need to look back. I knew Garbo’s little showstopper had left everyone in shock and awe. I knew because I felt exactly the same way.
I was lucky I could function at all. But function I did. Under a canopy of stars, I managed to wriggle free and give my naked companion Nick’s jacket. Garbo put it on, buttoned up the front, then sank low in her seat and remained there, silent with her thoughts. A falling star streaked across the night sky above us. The largest one I had ever seen, before or since.
I flew our plane through the rare thin air, navigated between heaven and hell with only my wits and the instrument panel to guide me. But with Garbo in front of me, I felt like the luckiest man alive. I was on the greatest high of my life. No one and nothing would ever take that feeling away from me. I was in my glory, all right. Even all the suffering and pain below us could not bring me down. I was in nirvana with Garbo.
I had saved the woman of my dreams, drawn down the Goddess of Eternity from a fate worse than death. I felt like a god. Felt like Bacchus wanting to throw a party and introduce Ariadne, his blushing bride-to-be, to all his immortal friends. I belonged with Garbo now, beside her celestial body as we flew through the heavens together.
I didn’t worry about sticking the landing anymore. Why worry about landing when the knockout of the ages sat in front of me, the sweet smell of her body wafting back to keep me awake? Alive. Why think about anything but how much I loved and worshipped her? How much I wished this moment never to end. I had risked everything to witness Garbo’s last gleaming. And in doing so I awakened a love inside myself that has never faded. I never wanted to come down.
25. DOWN TO EARTH JAMES
Seth, his eyes now glazed over and fixed firmly on the video camera lens, lay sunken into the pillows of his hospital bed. We had recorded him for the last hour and a half with only a few short breaks. He’d described how he’d seen the light, turned his plane around, and faced certain death. Instead of dying seventy years ago, he had lived to see Garbo, the love of his life, survive. And he had survived as well to now tell the tale.
“Seth,” Sarah said. Her arms cradled herself, rocking herself lightly from side to side as she cried. “You were willing to sacrifice yourself to save Garbo. So beautiful.”
Beautiful, yes. Ballsy, definitely. Seth was the poster child for jumping-head-first, diving-into-the-deep-end and fuck-the-consequences involvement. But I was scared. I chalked up the more fantastical elements of Seth’s story to the fact his brain was dying. A product of lack of oxygen mixed with an awareness of one’s own imminent demise. But then what was my excuse? Was actually believing in what Seth said a sign I was losing my own mind?
I didn’t know what Sarah and Video Guy were thinking, but I wasn’t letting Seth go without finishing the not-so-happy ending. I’d follow him into heaven—even hell, for that matter—with a video camera if I had to, to get the rest of the story. I needed to know where this ultimately led.
Seth finally blinked, turned and looked in Sarah’s direction. His face lit up, and he smiled at her.
“You remind me,” he said, the words forced out with labored breath, “of her.”
Sarah brought her hands up to her face and covered her mouth. She blinked several times over moistened eyes and leaned forward. I started for her, thinking she was about to be sick. Then I realized she was reacting to what Seth said.
“Garbo?” she said and blushed bright red.
Sarah’s smile trembled, then her lips separated into a bright, gleaming-white-teeth smile. Video Guy and I shared a glance. Seth still had it, for sure. Dying, he was still better at charming the pants off a woman than I expected I would ever be in my life. But I’d still try and learn.
The new woman in my life, my Garbo, was standing next to me. And I wasn’t about to let her get away. That was why I needed to know the end of Seth’s story so badly. Know what happened to Seth and Garbo. She was long gone, but she had never left his thoughts since. Garbo had been Seth’s co-pilot these last seventy years, only for him to finally crash and die in a hospital bed having never told the story to anyone before. Never told a living soul before me.
“What happened after that, Seth?” I whispered.
Seth kept his gaze on Sarah’s glowing face, savoring her. I knew I was pushing his limits. Maybe the others were happy to let him go in peace. Not me. The kid gloves were off, and I was grabbing for the fucking story while it was still within reach. Still on earth. Once he passed over, we could all relax. I knew it sounded cold. But it was my reality. My life.
“Seth.” I avoided the eyes of the others.
“We landed,” Seth said, his steady gaze still fixed on Sarah. “Hard.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Where? Come on, Seth, make it that extra mile for me.”
“Jones Beach,” he said.
Jones Beach? Off Long Island, New York? Could a seaplane the size and configuration Seth described have gone the distance? Again, I wanted to believe, but it was too late for details like that now. Say they had made it, what then?
“Seth,” I said, “why not tell your story before now? You beat the Nazis and Nick. You and Garbo.”
Seth turned from Sarah and looked at me with a vacant stare. The glimmer in his eyes was fading.
“The plane was on fumes,” he slurred and leaned his head back on his pillows. “We crashed in the surf. Garbo dragged me ashore.”
Fuck. Garbo saved him. They had come so far together in such a short time. Why hadn’t they ended up together? Seth took a shallow breath. Then with great effort, he leaned his head up to look me straight in the eye.
“We could never be together. I knew—” he said. “After what happened.”
“What, Seth?” I was about ready to jump out of my skin with anticipation. Rip my hospital gown off and run around naked and screaming in frustration. “What happened?”
I could feel Video Guy and Sarah staring straight at me now. Maybe even a little scared. I knew they wanted me to stop badgering Seth. Have some respect. But I wasn’t ready to let him go yet. No, the old man and I had unfinished business.
“Seth, tell me,” I said, stronger. “Tell me why you couldn’t tell the story.”
Then Young Seth came alive and joined the conversation. I saw him in Old Seth’s eyes. Conjured for what I had to believe would be the last time. He stared at me through the portal of time. Pain in his eyes. Pain and sadness.
“The Nazi bastards sank the Athenia that night,” he said. “Didn’t want any witnesses.”
A shiver ran throu
gh me. Of course, the Nazis had sunk the ocean liner. They were Nazis. Looking through Young Seth’s eyes, I felt the impact of the loss for the first time. People’s lives had been cut short for something they had taken no part in. Punished for simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Civilians.
“The Vaterland, the Nazi battleship, was sunk three days later,” Seth added, “by an English destroyer.”
I came around Seth’s bed. Video Guy made way for me to kneel down beside Seth. I was in front of the camera with Seth now. The blinking red light above the lens reminded me that everything was still being recorded. Recorded for the first and last time.
I looked over at Sarah, off camera. She looked sad with her watery eyes and runny nose. I’d met her not even seventy-two hours ago but couldn’t imagine ever being without her again. I still had a lot to learn about women, and I hoped she would be the one to teach me. Teach me for the rest of my life. Sarah gave me a slight smile of encouragement. Thank you, God.
“Garbo,” I whispered in Seth’s ear. His eyes had not followed me when I drew closer but had stayed on Sarah. “What happened to her?”
I already knew what had happened to her. Garbo came back a changed woman. Ever guarded about her privacy, she was only recorded on film by the paparazzi after her last screen appearance in 1941. An insipid comedy Garbo would call “her grave.”
Garbo would become a shadow of her former luminous self. No longer bold and brazen, her image became fuzzy and undefined, in long-lens paparazzi shots taken around her adopted New York home. She was virtually unrecognizable as Garbo, except to people like my mom.
“All those people,” Seth whispered as tears formed in his eyes. “Dead and gone because of what we had done. Garbo was guilt-ridden. She said it was because of her plan to save the world, that all those people on the Athenia perished. I promised her I would never tell.”
I leaned in closer to Seth to listen, shocked to feel him rest his head on my shoulder. My own vision blurred as I turned and fixated on Sarah. I fought to retain my composure while he told me of his own survivor’s guilt.
“It was war and the Nazis were playing for keeps. And if what you say is true,” I whispered, “Garbo didn’t fail. It wasn’t her fault.”
In the nick of time, Seth had foiled Nick’s plan and saved Garbo. But she’d been free to make a choice. She could have stayed in the boat with Nick and gone on to Germany to be sold to Hitler where he’d keep her as his pet goddess. But she knew the Nazis would have blown Seth and his seaplane to smithereens if she stayed with Nick and boarded the Vaterland. So, she’d stripped naked and swan-dived into the frigid ocean and climbed into the plane with him. She chose to save Seth because he’d chosen to save her. Wasn’t that the bond that connected Seth and Garbo forever? A connection that was still alive in this very moment? For me, there was only one question left.
“Why me, Seth?” I choked back a sob. “Why keep your pledge all these years and then decide to tell your story to me?”
Seth grabbed the collar of my gown with his hand. His chest rose with another breath.
“Because,” he said, “you’re my kin.”
“What?” I said. “What are you saying?”
“Your good-for-nothing father,” he said, “was my son.”
I pulled away. I broke our connection and stood straight up. Looked at Sarah for help. She stared back at me through her veil of tears with a look of innocent resolve.
“It’s true, James.” she said. “You’re Seth’s grandson.”
I didn’t answer right away. Just stood motionless above Seth, trying to process too much information too quickly, experience too many conflicting emotions at once. I tried to swallow, but my saliva had turned to cotton. I had to fight to form words, force them out into the world with all the breath I could muster.
“My biological father. A Moseley? How is that possible?”
While Seth worked up the energy to speak, my mom materialized in front of me. Young and vibrant, she stood next to Sarah and gazed into my eyes. I was about to call out to her. Wanted her to speak. Confirm that I hadn’t gone stark raving mad. But all our attention was drawn back down to Seth.
“Theo died six months ago,” Seth said in a whisper. “We hadn’t talked in decades.” Seth was fighting to get every word out now. Words I needed to hear. “In his things, I found a letter your mom sent. Telling him about you.”
All my mom had told me about my father was that he was older. Older and a bum. I asked her once why she had been with him. She said it was to have me. That was all she’d ever said about him. Then she’d died.
I looked down at Seth. The light in his eyes all but faded. I reached a hand down and touched his shoulder. He looked up at me, smiled impishly. The paparazzo who’d fallen in love with a movie star, was now all but gone. Then he looked back at Sarah.
“I never got over Garbo,” he said. “Never gave my family the love they deserved.” Seth’s eyes widened as he stared off into space. The space beside Sarah.
“Seth?” I leaned down and looked at his vacant eyes, Sarah reflected in them. I looked over with my own eyes and saw Sarah standing there, crying. Next to my mom. Mom turned to the young woman, then back to me. Then smiled.
Sarah came around the other side of the bed. Stepped into the light. Joined Seth and me. Grabbed me and hugged us both.
I looked back at Mom. She lingered a moment longer then disappeared in the blink of an eye. Meanwhile Garbo, the star, the icon, the woman responsible for my very existence by saving Seth, took Mom’s place. Young and glowing in all her ferocious beauty, she stared into my eyes for one incredible moment, then turned and silently walked out of the room. I looked back down and saw that Seth was gone now, too. Had gone with Garbo. Finally, together again.
Then I remembered Video Guy was still in the room. The poor guy had hung back a respectful distance, his camera still recording. I couldn’t imagine what he must have thought. What he and his camera had or hadn’t seen. Didn’t yet know what I thought of what had just happened. All I knew was he was waiting patiently for my command. Waiting to be told we were done.
“Cut,” I heard myself say and held onto Seth and Sarah even tighter.
The death certificate read 8:18 p.m., but Seth had actually died ten minutes before, at 8:08. That’s the time it took to get Video Guy and his equipment packed up and back out through the window into the dark snow. Sarah had given me a running start. Still off duty, she had to find the attending nurse to officially call the time. I didn’t think Seth would mind. I now knew how he felt about the history books, how they were mostly wrong anyway.
In those precious few minutes after Video Guy had gone and before Sarah and the attending nurse came, I stayed with the body of the man I’d come to admire. Love, even. I sat in silence and felt the urge to feel nothing, instead of experiencing the grief of losing the best friend I ever had. A friend I’d talked to a maybe four or five times on the phone and then met in person just three days before, a friend who happened to have been my paternal grandfather.
Why hadn’t he told me before, when he’d first called in about the ad I’d placed for previously untold stories on Garbo? Told me that “oh, by the way, I’m also your long-lost grandfather.” Why wait until the very last moment of his life, to tell me the incredible truth? That I was a Moseley, too.
I wasn’t thinking straight. I was fatigued beyond belief. But even more tired of my life amounting to a constant lament at what I’d lost. The loss of friendship, of family I didn’t even know I had, of not knowing what I’d lost until it was already gone. Then there was my own survivor’s guilt to deal with.
I got up off my own bed and stood over Seth’s body. Looked down at it. Before she left the room, Sarah had laid Seth to rest. Crossed his hands one over the other on his still chest and pulled the covers over his face. I should have guessed the old man and I were related. So similar in so many different ways that it couldn’t have been coincidence. I studied the shape of h
is body shrouded in that white sheet from head to toe. The image sent me spiraling back. Back to a moment I’d never forget.
I was a boy again. Sitting in a hospital hallway not unlike the one in Norfolk, Connecticut. I was alone, outside my mother’s hospital room. Doctors had gone in and out throughout the night and morning. I stared at the closed door.
No one really looked at me. A few nurses cast furtive glances laden with something as yet undefined, but what I would come to recognize as pity. I would grow to hate pity. Find it as vulgar and offensive a human emotion as envy or jealousy. But at that moment, I obediently concentrated on my mom’s hospital room door.
Then the door opened, and several doctors streamed out in a wave of white coats. Some were somber, yet others smiled as if they hadn’t a care in the world. Dropping any pretense of caring as soon as they turned away from the patient. To them, Mom was just another Stage 4, terminally ill young woman. To them, she was already history.
A pretty, young nurse also emerged. She came to me, leaned down in front of me and looked me straight in my young blue eyes.
“You must be Jimbo,” she said.
I nodded in agreement.
“My name’s Rebecca,” she said and smiled. “Your mom says you’re a very special little boy. Said I should remember your name, so when you’re rich and famous I can say I knew you back when.”
Rebecca gave me a wink. I just blinked, unsure how to respond. Mom was always telling people how special I was. How when I grew up I’d rule the world. Rebecca looked at me for another moment. She had beautiful, violet-colored eyes. Like Elizabeth Taylor. I’d never seen that shade occur in nature, before or since.
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