In the Unlikely Event

They’d probably all be dead by June, Miri thought. Forget prom and graduation. She just hoped it would be a quick death so they wouldn’t suffer, so they wouldn’t wind up horribly burned or blinded, or left without arms and legs. It was coming. She didn’t know what it was but it was just a matter of time. She was beginning to believe they were jinxed.

DONNY KELLEN: McCarthy’s doing the right thing, going after all the pinko Jew bastards like the Rosenbergs. They’re the ones behind it. They should all be fried.

SUZANNE: Leave the Jews out of this. This has nothing to do with Jews. Plenty of Jews were killed on those planes.

DONNY: You’re such a Jew lover. That was just a cover to make it look like they’re not responsible.

CHARLEY KAMINSKY (to Donny): You’re an asshole, you know that? Stick your finger up your butt and take a whiff. That’s you. A piece of shit!

Donny came after Charley but Charley socked him first, giving him a bloody nose. The other boys held Donny and Charley apart.

ELEANOR (shouting): It’s sabotage, you idiots! We’re under siege. Get it through your heads. Korea is nothing compared to what’s happening here. Korea is a distraction. You don’t hear Eisenhower saying nominate me for president, and I’ll stop these crashes tomorrow. No, because he can’t. Sure, he can stop the war in Korea. But he can’t stop this one. Because our side doesn’t know who we’re fighting.

Everyone knew Eleanor was the smartest person in their class. So when she said sabotage the rest of them went scrambling for the Merriam-Webster dictionary.

Natalie watched but said nothing while the other kids went on and on, their stories of aliens, zombies and sabotage growing from possibility to probability. She shook her head once or twice as if to tell them they had it all wrong, but no one was watching besides Miri. What did Natalie know, or think she knew?

They had another safety drill before lunch, proving Mr. Royer, the principal, also believed they were jinxed.

A Condolence Call to Mrs. Barnes

On their way to pay a condolence call to Mrs. Barnes, Rusty insisted that Miri practice saying, I’m sorry for your loss. Mrs. Barnes lived in an apartment house on Elmora Avenue near Magie. I’m sorry for your loss, I’m sorry for your loss, Miri repeated. They’d left their house as soon as Rusty had come home from work, run a comb through her hair, freshened her lipstick and spritzed herself with Arpège.

“If she offers her hand,” Rusty said, “you shake it.”

“ ‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ shake shake.”

“This is not the time for sarcasm, Miri.”

When is the time for sarcasm, Mom? Miri would have liked to say, but she knew better. Instead she said, “I’m not being sarcastic. It’s just…you’re treating me like a six-year-old.”

“You’ve never been in this situation and I’m trying to help you through it.”

“Nobody’s ever been in this situation.”

“Not true, Miri. We’ve been through a war, remember? And we’re fighting another one now. Some mother loses a son every day.”

“Can you fight two wars at the same time?”

“You mean Korea and something else?” Rusty asked.

“Yes, Korea and something else.”

“I hope that’s never going to happen. Things are bad enough with Korea.”

“So that means it’s a good time to attack us, because we’re busy fighting in Korea. Korea is a distraction, right?”

“I’m not sure what you’re getting at,” Rusty said.

“Never mind,” Miri told her. She heard Eleanor’s voice in her head. Korea is a distraction.

Corinne was at Mrs. Barnes’s apartment, but there was no sign of the rest of the family, which surprised Miri. The small living room was crowded with family and friends who had come to pay their respects to Mrs. Barnes. Mrs. Jones was in the tiny kitchen with her daughter Jamison, serving up plates of sandwiches and cookies.

I’m sorry for your loss, Miri practiced inside her head. But it turned out she didn’t get to say it to Mrs. Barnes because Mrs. Barnes was in her bedroom and didn’t come out. The other son was there, so Miri said it to him. And the daughter from Pennsylvania with her husband and little girl.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” She felt like an idiot saying it. Each of them took her hand and said, “Thank you.” It wasn’t as hard as she’d thought. But it felt wrong. She wished she could have told the truth—I was there when your mother heard the news over the radio, I was there when she screamed Tim’s name and fell to her knees, I was there when Fern grabbed her leg and tried to go home with her, crying, Barnesy—that’s what Fern calls her. Did you ever dream someone would call your mother Barnesy?

Rusty disappeared, leaving Miri alone in a room full of strangers. What was she supposed to do? She stopped in front of the family photos set out on the breakfront. Photos of Tim as a child, photos of him in his uniform, photos with his wife and two little girls.

Captain Timothy Barnes was handsome, better-looking than his brother or sister. Mrs. Barnes’s daughter came up beside her. “Did you know my brother?”

“I know your mother,” Miri said. “Is she okay?”

“Not really. I doubt she’ll ever be okay again. Tim was her favorite.”

Miri never thought about parents having favorites. When you’re the only child you don’t think that way.

Corinne came to her rescue. “I heard you were a big help on Tuesday, Miri. You’ve got a real head on your shoulders.”

Miri knew that was supposed to be a compliment. As opposed to, You have no head on your shoulders. Or, Use your head for once.

“This has been very hard on Natalie,” Corinne said, speaking in a hushed tone. “She’s so sensitive, so imaginative. I suppose you know that.”

“Yes.” She didn’t have the guts to tell Corinne that Natalie was acting cuckoo. Anyway, who was she to say Ruby wasn’t living inside Natalie? Who was she to say that wasn’t the aliens’ plan all along? All of it was making her think the whole world was going crazy.

Jamison set a plate of sandwiches on the dining table, pretty little sandwiches on white bread with the crusts cut off, each decorated with a tiny pickle or slice of olive or sprig of parsley. Miri helped herself to a turkey sandwich. The potato salad had too much mayonnaise for her so she skipped that and took potato chips instead.

Corinne patted the sofa next to her, so Miri sat and bit into her turkey sandwich, taking small bites and chewing, chewing, chewing until there was almost nothing left to swallow, which she wasn’t sure she’d be able to do anyway. She needed ginger ale. Why hadn’t she poured herself a glass?

“I thought Natalie would be here,” she managed to say.

“The children are at home. They went to the funeral this afternoon. Mrs. Barnes has been such an important part of their lives. She came to work for us when Fern was born. And Dr. Osner is back at the morgue.”

Miri nodded.

“Where’s your mother?” Corinne asked.

“She must be in the other room,” Miri said, taking this as her opportunity to get away. “Actually, I think I’ll bring her a sandwich.” She prepared a plate for Rusty and carried it down the hall. It was a small apartment, with two bedrooms and one bath. The door to the smaller bedroom was open. Miri caught a glimpse of Rusty’s brown skirt. She was sitting on the bed with a group of women. “Mom…”

Rusty looked up.

“I made you a plate.”

“Thanks, honey. Come and sit.”

Miri sat next to Rusty on the small bed, wishing she could lie down with her head on Rusty’s lap, close her eyes and sleep.

Visitation

It took days to find the remains of the Sewing Machine Man and his wife, Mr. and Mrs. Galanos, who’d lived in one of the houses that had been destroyed. They’d been listed as missing and presumed dead. When they finally were able to identify them Christina didn’t want to go to the church or the funeral home. She didn’t want to see the son, who was staying with friends. But she had no choice. “We’re going,” her mother said. “Fix yourself up.”

They waited on line to express their condolences. First Christina’s grandparents Yaya and Papou, then her parents, then Athena and finally, Christina. “I’m very sorry,” she said to the son, who looked like he hadn’t slept in days.

“Do I know you?” he asked Christina.

“Christina Demetrious,” she said. “My family knows…” She hesitated, then changed what she was going to say to, “My family knew your parents.”

“Thank you, Christina.”

That was it? She was free to move on now? Instead, she said, “My sister, Athena…you went to school with her.”

“Thank you, Athena,” he said, confusing her sister’s name with hers. He didn’t know what he was saying or what anyone was saying to him. By then the next person on line was grabbing his hand and blubbering about what good people his parents were.

He’s in shock, Christina thought. Everyone is in shock. Maybe she was, too. She thought about telling him she’d been there, about how she’d seen the plane before it crashed. And then the flames…but why would he want to hear that? Athena reached in and pulled her away. “What were you telling him?”