Part 4

Dr. Trask had left the room to take an emergency phone call.  Tad kept his eyes down, focusing on his hands, systematically cracking his knuckles one by one.

 

The stillness in the room was conspicuous.  There was no clock sitting on a bookshelf, ticking off the minutes of silence until the doctor’s return.  Rain had been lingering for a few days now and the dark clouds seemed to insulate the building from the sounds of the outside world.  Even the fluorescent light that had once been buzzing in such an aggravating manner had been fixed.

 

Tad raised his eyes slightly.  Yes, she was looking at him.  Of course she was.  He tried a casual smile but it faltered on his lips.  Hers did the same.

 

Tad cleared his throat.  At the same time they both asked, “How are you?”

 

The identical shaky smiles returned and faded.  The silence returned, threatening to take over the room until, at last, Diana spoke again.

 

“I saw Steve last week.”

 

“Yeah?”  He hadn’t seen or spoken to his brother in several weeks.  “How’s he doing?”

 

“Good.  He’s going to take his lieutenant’s examination this summer.”

 

“I hope he gets the promotion.  He deserves it.”

 

At that, the brief conversation died of its own accord and the two of them lapsed into silence once again.

 

Tad wanted to say more.  There was so much that had to be said.  But he felt he needed Dr. Trask mediating before he could offer an apology, an explanation, a promise to the woman he still loved.

 

The door to the outer office opened, causing both of them to start. 

 

“I’m sorry about that,” Dr. Trask said, adding with a smile, “I promise I won’t bill you for the interruption.”  She took a seat at the table, laid down her notebook, and clasped her hands.

 

“Did you two talk while I was gone?” she asked.

 

“Yes,” Tad replied at the same Diana said, “No.”

 

They looked at each other sheepishly and Tad amended, “She just told me she saw my brother.  We didn’t really talk.”

 

“Has it been awhile since you’ve seen Steve?” Dr. Trask asked.

 

“A couple of months.”

 

That cagey smile that told Tad she knew exactly what was going through his head slid across her face.  “You’ve been coming here for a couple of months.  Any correlation?”

 

And Tad actually smiled back.  “Yeah.  The last time I saw him was the first day I saw you.  He came out to the city on his day off, kicked my ass out of bed, and made sure I got here.”

 

Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Diana smiling, too.

 

“You’ve got a strong support system,” Dr. Trask commented.  “That’s the main reason why I didn’t persist with prescribing anti-depressants for you.”

 

“I don’t want to use drugs.”

 

“You’ve made that clear.  They can be beneficial, as I’ve explained to you before, but I’m willing to hold off for now provided you get that support you need from your family and friends.”

 

Tad nodded an understanding and an apology for his outburst.  He didn’t know if he had Diana’s support or not—he desperately hoped so—but he knew he could count on Steve.  And Mart and Dan.  Mart would recruit Hallie and Sally.  Dan would recruit Brian and Trixie.  Hallie would recruit Simon.  Brian would recruit Jim and Honey...

 

The Bob-Whites were more than just the original seven now.  Everyone who touched their lives was touched by their lives and their devotion to helping others.  Mart through his mother to Margery Trask to her niece was proof enough of that.

 

Looking up at Diana, he asked, “Did Mart and Dan know when they came to get me that night?”

 

Diana looked to Dr. Trask and apparently getting some kind of silent go-ahead said, “I’d been making excuses for you for weeks.  At the Christmas party, I told them you’d had a bad day at work.  When I came back from Arizona—that weekend Mart and Sally wanted to come down for a visit—I told them you had the flu.  When Brian invited us over to watch the Super Bowl I lied and told him we had already made plans to go to Steve and Sarah’s house.”

 

“So how did they find out?”

 

“The weekend you ki—the weekend I moved out, I went to Simon’s looking for Hallie.  She wasn’t there but Simon offered to take me to my parents’ penthouse.” She hesitated before adding, “I was pretty drunk.”

 

“You don’t drink,” Tad interrupted, shocked. 

 

She lowered her eyes and continued.  “Anyway, Simon saw me up to the door and we were talking.  Jim was at the Wheeler penthouse and somehow he overheard something Simon said that was completely out of context.  He was just teasing but Jim…”

 

Tad thought about Jim’s redheaded temper and his fierce protectiveness toward those he loved—which didn’t include Simon Drake.  He grinned a little.  “Did he deck him?”

 

There must have been a shadow of his formerly boyish lopsided grin because Diana had to fight to hold back her own smile.  “Yes.  It didn’t last long.  Jo came and broke them up.  But I told her I’d explain it to Jim in the morning.”

 

“Did you?”

 

Her beautiful amethyst eyes welled up with tears and she shook her head shamefully.  “I told him that we’d just had a fight and we’d work it out, that he shouldn’t worry about it.  I did tell Hallie almost everything but by the time I got to Dan and Trixie’s for the housewarming party later that day ... and you weren’t there...

 

***

 

February 16, 2002

 

Diana smiled at the scene before her, wishing the light-hearted comedy of errors would penetrate through to her heart.

 

Honey had carefully bundled Matthew up so he could play outside and, predictably, the moment whatever wasn’t already cocooned inside his snowsuit had been covered in mittens, boots, hat, and scarf, his small, high-pitched voice had piped from behind the scarf, “I gotta go potty, Mommy.”

 

Everybody had laughed except Honey, who put her hands on her hips and said in an exasperated tone that couldn’t quite compete with the twinkle in her hazel eyes, “Didn’t I ask you before I put all this on if you had to go to the bathroom?”

 

“I din hafta go when you askeded me,” her small son had protested.

 

Honey had peeled off his mittens.  Trixie had popped his hat off so that his dark hair spiked out in all directions from the static electricity.  Off had come the scarf and the snowsuit and Brian had escorted him to the bathroom to take care of business.

 

Now he was wrapped up again, only his solemn brown eyes—so like his father’s—peeking out from between a bright red woolen hat and a multi-colored scarf which had been wound around his small neck several times to keep it from dragging on the ground.  Sally and Simon were going to help him build “the bestest snowman in da world”.

 

They had no sooner stepped out the door than it occurred to Diana to wonder why the Drakes had volunteered so readily and, more curiously, why nobody else had been eager to join in the outdoor fun.

 

Swallowing hard, she turned away from the door to face six Bob-Whites and her best friend.  Jim’s wasn’t the only face grim with worry.  Hallie’s weren’t the only eyes heavy with sympathy.

 

But it was Mart who came to her side and in a soft voice asked, “What’s going on with Tad, Di?”

 

In one last vain attempt to deny the truth, she managed to squeak out, “What do you mean?”

 

“Diana!” Trixie exclaimed.  “We all know what’s going on.  Simon told us that Tad kicked you out of your apartment.  Jim told us what happened last night.  Hallie told us what you told her this morning.  We’ve all noticed Tad has been angry and depressed these past few months.  And we don’t even see him that much anymore, either!  We’re all worried about him.  We’re worried about you!  What do you mean ‘What do you mean’?”

 

Diana couldn’t help but offer a weak smile at her friend’s outburst even as she fought back tears.  She knew she could always count on Trixie to make no bones about her feelings.  Everybody else was just as upset and, for once, nobody scolded Trixie for her less than tactful behavior.

 

“He’s my best friend, Di,” Mart said soothingly.  “And you know how much I love you.  Let us help.”

 

Her knees felt wobbly and she gripped Mart’s arm for support.  Miraculously, a chair appeared behind her as she sank down and Dan was on her other side, his dark eyes seeking the same answers Mart was.

 

She leaned forward, put her forehead in her hands, and mumbled, “I kept thinking it would pass, that things would get better, that he just needed some time.”

 

“How long has he been struggling?” Jim asked.  “At least since Christmas, right?  I know anybody can have a crappy day at the office but the change was pretty noticeable at the dinner party.”

 

“It’s been since 9/11,” Brian answered.  “Am I right, Di?”

 

She nodded, her head still cradled in her hands.

 

“How did you know that?” Trixie asked her brother.

 

“We’ve been seeing a lot of it in the ER,” he replied.

 

“A lot of what?” Mart asked guardedly.

 

Brian hesitated before answering.  “Depression, insomnia, headaches, anxiety ... suicide attempts.”

 

“Suicide?” Honey gasped.  “Do you think Tad—?”

 

Diana jerked her head up, her eyes wide with alarm.  “No!  He wouldn’t!”

 

“He’s lost his job, he’s been drinking, he’s alienated his friends and his brother, he’s pushed you away,” Hallie said gently.  “We can’t rule out that possibility.  For Tad’s sake, we can’t think it would never happen.”

 

Wringing her hands, Diana looked at each of her friends in turn, her troubled eyes coming to rest on Dan’s.  “What do I do?  Should I call the police?”

 

“We can’t go breaking down doors for no reason,” Dan said reluctantly.  “We don’t have any proof he’s suicidal and if we’re overreacting and I send a car down there, he’s gonna be pissed.  Then he’ll never listen to us.”

 

Mart had been squatting next to Diana’s chair, holding her hand, but now he jumped to his feet so quickly that he resembled an oversized jack-in-the-box.  “We don’t need to send the cops down there.  We’re going to see him tomorrow night.”

 

“We are?” Honey asked.

 

“Not you, me and Dan.  We’ve got Knicks tickets!  Tad got us Knicks tickets for Christmas!”

 

He looked hopefully at Diana and she watched his face fall as she didn’t react with the same enthusiasm he was showing.

 

“He didn’t get you those tickets,” she said in a small voice.  “I did.  I did all his Christmas shopping this year.”

 

That statement told the Bob-Whites more about Tad’s state of mind than anything else they had heard or witnessed.  Tad loved Christmas and he loved to shop for gifts for his family and friends.  He always bought a gag gift to compliment the real present, often including a pun, joke, or ridiculous limerick on the card.

 

“I’m sorry,” Diana apologized with tears in her eyes.  “If I had told you the truth at Christmas maybe it wouldn’t have gotten so bad.”

 

“It’s our fault.  We should’ve seen it,” Jim said.  Giving her a small smile, he explained, “The jokes weren’t nearly as bad as usual.”

 

Mart grinned, too.  “And none of the limericks were obscene.”

 

“Yeah, bummer,” Dan added and Trixie snickered, even as she gave him a light kick on the ankle.

 

Hallie grabbed a tissue from the box on the end table and gave it to Diana.  Looking at both Mart and Dan, she said, “So you two will go see Tad tomorrow night?”

 

“Yeah,” Dan agreed.  “We’ll take him out to the game as planned.  We can see first-hand how he’s doing and we can talk to him in a neutral environment so he doesn’t feel like we’re laying siege on him or something.”

 

He turned to Diana.  “I know where you guys keep the spare key.  I’ll grab it on our way out and leave it down in the lobby for you.  I want you to get some clothes and whatever else you may need—”

 

“Why?” Diana asked, her voice strained.  “What if Tad’s better?  What if he’s okay now?”

 

“Tad is not ‘okay’,” Dan said.  “He may be sorry for his behavior last night but he’s still in trouble and you’re not going back there.  Not now, anyway.  Pick up what you need for at least a week, maybe more.  And don’t go alone.  Let Brian and Jim come with you.”

 

Her despair shrinking in the face of her indignation, she frowned and said with a forcefulness she didn’t quite believe in, “Tad wouldn’t hurt me!”

 

“I don’t think he would, either,” Dan reassured her.  “Not in his right mind.  But we don’t know that he is in his right mind.”

 

“You think Tad’s gone off the deep end?” Mart asked, his voice also beginning to express some anger.

 

Dan sighed and lowered his chin to his chest.  Brian stepped in, rescuing Dan from having to speak ill about his best friend.

 

“I hope not,” he said in his best bedside manner.  “But I’m sure Dan’s seen a lot of what I’ve seen the past few months.  Domestic violence has increased and I would hazard a guess that most of these people were in loving relationships prior to September 11th.  They don’t know how to deal with the anger and fear they’ve been feeling since that day.  They’re acting out … like children who’ve been abused.”

 

Honey grabbed Diana’s hand.  “I don’t want you to get hurt.  None of us think Tad would hurt you on purpose but people are capable of anything when their back is up against the wall.”

 

“Or if they’re under the influence of alcohol,” Jim added, his jaw tight.

 

“What if Tad’s worse than you thought?” Trixie asked her husband.  “What then?”

 

“Then we’ll call you on the way back from the game,” Dan said grimly.  “We’ll all gather at the loft and make it clear to Tad that he has to get help.”

 

***

 

“What did you and your friends do?” Dr. Trask asked Diana.

 

“We staged an intervention.”

 

Tad snorted.  “Intervention?  You make me sound like a heroin addict.”

 

Diana’s face fell and he felt bad for having hurt her … again.  He started to apologize but Dr. Trask spoke instead.

 

“Tad, your drinking was out of control.  You were out of control.  And your friends were concerned.”

 

“So was the game a test?” he asked with a trace of sarcasm.  “Or was it just an excuse to get me out of the apartment so you all could invade while I was gone?”

 

“Tad…” Dr. Trask warned.

 

He pulled his sweaty hands off the table and wiped them on his jeans.  He took a couple of deep, cleansing breaths before looking up and holding her gaze.

 

“What happened that night?” she asked.

 

“You know,” he mumbled, keeping a tight rein on his unwarranted anger.  “So does Diana.”

 

“She’s only heard it from Dan and Mart’s point of view.  And you’ve come a long way since you told me.  Tell us both what happened and listen to the story yourself this time, Tad.”

 

***

 

February 17, 2002

 

Tad started from his light doze on the couch and stared with bleary eyes at the television screen.  He had no idea what was on right now.  He usually kept the station tuned to Nickelodeon or the Game Show Network—any channel that wouldn’t be broadcasting news reports.

 

“Tad!  It’s Dan.  You home?”

 

The pounding at the door made him jump.  Dan must have already knocked once and that’s what had startled him out of his sleep.

 

“Yeah, just a minute,” he growled back, immediately kicking himself for speaking.  If he had kept quiet, maybe Dan would’ve thought he was out and left.

 

As he stood, he let his gaze sweep the loft apartment.  The absence of Diana’s usual meticulous daily care was evident but she hadn’t been gone long enough for the place to look like a sty.  There were a couple of newspapers, still rolled up and unread, by the front door.  A few containers of half-eaten takeout were stacked on the kitchen counter.

 

He hoped he could keep Mart and Dan out of the kitchen.  The sink still had Diana’s photographs in it, torn and burned.  It was a shocking and violent sight to see every time he went to the kitchen and it never failed to unnerve him.  He kept the photos where they were to remind him of what he was capable of.

 

He hadn’t changed out of his sweatpants and t-shirt all weekend.  As he stumbled toward the door, he sniffed one armpit.  He hoped he didn’t look as bad as he smelled.

 

“Come on, Tad!  Open up!” Dan shouted, his fist thumping on the door once again.

 

Did he know?  Had Diana called him?  What would she have told him?  About the drinking?  The psychiatrist?  Losing his job?

 

“Yo, open up!”  This time it was Mart.  “We don’t care if you’re indecent.”

 

“You usually are!” Dan finished with a chortle.

 

Tad hesitated a moment when he heard Mart’s voice.  He didn’t want to be cornered by his two best friends.  But if they were joking, then Diana couldn’t have told them what was going on … right?

 

“Who’re you ‘yo-ing’, you yo-yo!” he called back as he shuffled toward the door, shocked to hear how alien the forced humor sounded coming out of his throat.

 

He unlocked the deadbolts and opened the door.  “Mart, Dan.”

 

“Wolfman Jack,” Dan greeted.

 

“Huh?”

“What’s with the excess of facial hair, Grizzly Adams?” Mart asked.

 

Tad rubbed his hand over his unkempt beard.  How long had it been since he’d last shaved? Diana had commented on it—not in a flattering way—more than once.  It seemed a minor complaint next to not going to see the damn shrink.

 

“Trying to stay warm,” he offered unconvincingly.  Seeing the skeptical look on Mart’s face he added, “Not my fault you haven’t hit puberty yet, Baby Face.”

 

He turned away from the open door, standing in the kitchen doorway as he waved them in toward the living room.  “What’s up?” he asked, hoping he sounded casual.

 

“What’s up?” Mart squawked.  “You forgot?  Knicks-Pistons, dude.  Fourth row seats!”

 

Tad frowned.  The tickets were a Christmas gift to Mart from him.  Diana had picked the gift out and wrapped it.  He had forgotten all about it.

 

“Where’s Di?” Dan asked.

 

“She’s not here,” Tad answered, hoping the half-truth would satisfy his friends.  To ward off further questions, he turned and headed toward the bedroom.  “I’ll shower and get changed.”

“Shave while you’re at it,” Mart called after him.  “I don’t want people thinking we brought Fidel Castro to the basketball game.”

 

“Bite me, Belden.  I’ll trim it but I’m not shaving it off.”

 

***

 

“What do you suppose that was all about?”

 

“What?” Dr. Trask asked.

 

“The beard.  Do you think it was rebellion?  Or some sort of subconscious way of disguising myself, becoming somebody different?”

 

Dr. Trask smiled.  “I don’t know.  Maybe you just wanted to keep your face warm during the winter.”

 

“That doesn’t sound very subliminal,” he joked.

 

“No, we want to be very clear, don’t we?  What happened at the game, Tad?”

 

He hadn’t had a drink in several weeks.  He was thinking clearly and for the first time he could see just how far he had fallen.  The events of that night were etched in his mind but as he spun the tale, it was as if he was watching somebody else, not himself.

 

***

 

February 17, 2002

 

“Hey, guys!  Hold on a second,” Tad called, waving Dan and Mart over to him as they made their way through the Madison Square Garden arena to their seats.

 

“What’s wrong?” Mart asked.

 

“Nothing’s wrong.”  Tad pointed to the concession stand next to them.  “Come on, dogs and suds, my treat.”

 

He hadn’t eaten much of anything this weekend and the wrinkled mystery meat hot dogs looked like manna from heaven.  He had run out of beer sometime Saturday night and his throat was dry from the wanting.  He licked his lips as a customer went by with a full glass, the foamy head nearly overflowing the paper cup.

 

“You want fries, too?” he asked his friends.

 

As he returned his attention to them, he couldn’t fail to notice their grim expressions.  Dan quickly transformed his face to the neutral streetwise cop.  But Mart’s poker face was only marginally better than Trixie’s and he had to turn away and fiddle with the napkin dispenser to hide his feelings.

 

Tad gritted his teeth.  “Can’t a guy have a beer at a ball game?  Since when do you two support prohibition?”

 

They didn’t answer and Tad turned to the scrawny teenager behind the counter.  “Three dogs, two beers … one Coke,” he grumbled.

 

“Yeah, I’ll have a Coke, too,” Dan said.

 

“Sprite,” Mart chimed in.

 

Tad yanked his wallet out of his back pocket and pulled out a credit card.  He slapped it down on the counter without looking at Dan or Mart.

 

Diana had told them.  And now they would be choosing sides.

 

They were his best friends.  Shouldn’t they be on his side?  They were men.  Men should stick together.

 

No.  Dan and Mart weren’t just men.  They were honorable men.  They were Bob-White men.  They would always and forever side with their own.

 

And he wasn’t one of them.  He wasn’t a Bob-White and he certainly wasn’t an honorable man.  He was just a drunken nutcase who had lost his job and his girlfriend in one fell swoop.

 

So why did he have the sick feeling he’d lose more than that before the night was over?

 

***

 

“I was so angry.  Over hot dogs and beer with my friends.”  Tad shook his head in disbelief.  He looked up at Diana and confessed, “I thought you turned them against me.”

 

“Nobody was against you, Tad,” she murmured.

 

“I know that now.”  He held her gaze for a long moment, conveying through his heart what he couldn’t with mere words.

 

“Why don’t you tell us what happened at the game?” Dr. Trask prompted.

 

Tad shook his head.  “Is that really necessary?”

 

“You were wrong,” Diana put in.

 

“Yeah, I know,” he mumbled.  “Do I have to go over it again?”

 

“No, I mean you were wrong in thinking that Dan and Mart told me.  They didn’t.  I don’t know what happened that night.”

 

“You don’t?”

 

She shook her head, her violet eyes expressing a clear longing to know, to share his pain.

 

Dan and Mart hadn’t told her.  They hadn’t been on her side.  They had been on his side.  Diana had been on his side.  They had all been on his side and at his side, holding him up through this dark time.

 

“Please tell me, Tad.”

 

And for the first time in months, he was willing to speak.

 

***

 

February 17, 2002

 

The score was close and the clock was ticking down the last few minutes of the game.  The Pistons were leading but not by much and the home team had been making a steady comeback throughout the second half.  The Knicks were having a crappy season and the possibility of defeating one of the division leaders had the crowd in a frenzy, even for New York sports fans.

 

The noise had begun at the start of the second half when the Knicks launched their scoring streak.  Feet pounded in the bleachers, rattling the stands all the way down to where Tad, Dan and Mart were on their feet watching, just a few rows behind the Knicks’ bench.

 

The soda hadn’t done much to quench Tad’s thirst.  Claiming a need to use the restroom, he had gone back to the concession stand to get a beer and had hurriedly chugged it down before returning to his seat.  This, of course, necessitated an actual need to use the bathroom and he had departed again, feigning a desire for popcorn and then claiming a long line at the concessions made him change his mind.  But one beer wasn’t enough to dull the roar in his head as the rabid Knicks fans cheered on their underdog team.

 

An air horn sounded on the other side of the arena and Tad clenched his fists to his side to keep from flinching.  Then another one sounded a few rows behind him and he jumped like a scalded cat.

 

The man next to him laughed mockingly and mimicked Tad’s behavior with an exaggerated look of terror on his face as he jerked away from the pennant his companion was waving.

 

Tad wanted to punch him but at that moment the game ended.  The Knicks had fallen just short in their rally but the fans gave them an appreciative round of applause just the same.

 

People began moving toward the exits and the man next to Tad threw his arm around his shoulders.  “Great game, huh, Twitchy?”

 

Tad shook him off.  “Get away from me, asshole.”

 

“Hey, man, chill out.”

 

“You okay, Tad?”  Dan’s hand fell on his shoulder and Tad spun around to face him.

 

“I think your friend needs to lay off the espressos,” the stranger jeered.

 

Mart stepped closer, his face etched with concern.  Tad’s breathing became labored.  He felt hemmed in, friends and strangers both surrounding him and making it hard to breathe.

 

“Let’s go,” he mumbled, pushing past his friends toward the aisle.

 

“Bring ear plugs next time!” the man called out, his friend laughing uproariously at the pathetic humor.

 

Tad whipped around, his face red, ready to throw a punch.  If Mart hadn’t been there, he would have.

 

“Come on, Tad.  The guy’s a jerk.  Let’s get out of here.”

 

Let’s get out of here.

 

Later, much later, he would find it ironic, and even a little amusing, that those five words were the trigger that set him off.  But at the time, all he could hear was Jarrell’s voice saying that same thing right before the second tower went down and their building had partially collapsed.

 

Mart’s innocent statement had sent Tad plunging downward once again, down to the floor as the walls buckled around him, desperately grasping for something solid to hold onto as the floor began to cave in, screaming Jay’s name as the world went black around him.

 

His heart felt like it was about to come out of his chest.  He opened his mouth, seeking oxygen, but his breaths came in short, shallow gasps that didn’t fill his lungs.  Wild-eyed, he pushed through the crowd, shoving people out of his way as he sought the exit.  He could faintly hear Dan and Mart calling his name but he didn’t stop.  People complained and hurled obscenities as he continued to manhandle his way through the crowd.  He needed air.  He needed space.  He needed to feel safe again.

 

Finally, he saw the lights in the plaza glowing through the main doors.  He dodged around a couple walking leisurely toward the exit with their arms wrapped around each other and burst through the doors out into the cold February night, breathing deeply and trying to stop his legs from shaking.

 

The noise hadn’t stopped, though it was somewhat muted out here in the snow.  At least he could breathe again, jagged pains stabbing through his lungs as he took in the icy cold air.

 

“Tad?”

Once again, the hand on his shoulder brought him anxiety rather than comfort.  It was Mart this time and Tad jerked away at his touch.  “Get away from me,” he mumbled, staggering back a few steps.

 

“What’s wrong?” Dan asked.  His dark eyes were steely and all business, cop eyes.

 

Tad shook his head, then doubled over, putting his hands on his still-trembling knees as he struggled to regulate his breathing.  Jay’s voice was still echoing in his head, as clearly as if he had been standing right next to him, as razor-sharp as the wind still tearing through his lungs.

 

Let’s go.  Please.  We’re not gonna find anybody.  Let’s get out of here before the building comes down.

 

He had stayed.  He had stayed out of some misguided sense of duty, trying to find and rescue his fellow coworkers.  If he had heeded Jarrell’s plea, would his friend still be alive today?  They would have gotten out of the building before it went down.  They would have escaped at least some of the horrors of that day.  Enough that Jarrell could have recovered emotionally from the experience?

 

How could he have?  How could anybody?

 

Images flashed through his mind, images from Diana’s camera.  The teenage boys helping the black woman.  The men carrying their legless friend.  The man handing out bottled water.  The firefighters being tended to by medical volunteers.  The lines of citizens waiting to donate blood.

 

“—don’t … don’t understand,” he mumbled.  His legs would no longer support him and he sank down to the snow-covered sidewalk, begging the tears to come but heaving only dry, sobbing gasps.

 

Mart got down on one knee, his hand on his friend’s back.  “We don’t understand what, Tad?”

 

“No … no … don’t understand.”

 

Dan waved down a cab and leaned over to grasp Tad’s arm.  “We’re taking you home,” he said.  “We’re gonna get you some help.”

 

Mart took his other arm and together they lifted him to his feet.

 

And he didn’t feel suffocated.  He didn’t feel judgment or pity.

 

He felt compassion and friendship.

 

***

 

“I was there,” Diana said in a small voice and he could see the tears brimming behind her eyes.  “How could I not understand?”

 

Tad opened his mouth to reply, then closed it abruptly.  He was shutting her out.  Again.

 

But this time, Dr. Trask was there to intervene.

 

“She was there, Tad.  She saw many of the same horrors you saw.”

 

He shook his head and lowered his eyes but didn’t answer.

 

“I was so scared for you,” Diana murmured.  “It was so dark when that tower fell.  I thought the world had ended.  And when I saw your office…”  Her voice trailed away into a choking sob, unable to continue.

 

“I didn’t mean you,” Tad mumbled, still staring at the table.

 

“What?”

 

“I didn’t mean that you didn’t understand.  It was me.  I was the one who didn’t understand.  You saw something down there that I didn’t—that I couldn’t see—and I don’t know how you did that.”

 

In the silence that followed, Dr. Trask prompted, “What did Diana see, Tad?”

 

After a long moment, he lifted his head and for the first time in months, allowed Diana to see the pain that was in his heart. 

 

“She saw hope.”

 

One tear broke free and slid down Diana’s cheek.  He watched it trickle down her fair skin and pool underneath her trembling chin.  Keeping her eyes locked with his, she reached up and wiped it away with the back of her hand.

 

He turned slightly toward Dr. Trask and continued.  “She saw light where there was darkness, where there was so much darkness.  She saw hope and courage in the face of evil.  She always does that.  She looks past the surface layers, past what the world sees, and she sees something more.  That’s what makes her such a great artist.”

 

“I don’t feel like a great artist if I hurt you.”

 

He turned back to face her.  “You didn’t hurt me, Diana.  You could never hurt me.  It’s not your fault.”

 

After a minute, Kaytha Trask spoke again.  “You’ve made a lot of progress, Tad.  I’d still like to see you—alone and with Diana—for awhile longer and I want to suggest a support group for those who lived through 9/11, but I think you’re well on your way to healing.”

 

“What about what happened at the game?” Tad asked.  “If that kind of noise sets me off, am I ever going to be able to go to a basketball game again?”  Offering the doctor a half smile, he added, “I mean, I don’t care about the Knicks so much.  They suck.  But I gotta support my Bulls.”

 

“They suck, too.”

 

Tad looked into Diana’s teasing violet eyes and gave her one of his goofy lop-sided grins.

 

“You’ll be able to go to sporting events, ride the subway, the train, maybe even an airplane,” Dr. Trask assured him.  “Just give it time.”

 

Tad nodded, unable to take his eyes off Diana.

 

“We have just a few more minutes left.  Is there anything else you need to say?”

 

I love you, Diana.  I love you.  I love you so much.  I love you.  I’ll always love you.

 

His gaze dropped down to the table.  He couldn’t say it.  He couldn’t because he didn’t know how she felt about him.  He knew she would be there to support him.  That’s the kind of person she was.  But he didn’t know if it would ever be the same again.

 

Her hand reached across the table and covered his.  She gave him a squeeze and he brought his head up to look into her eyes once again.  She smiled softly at him and held his gaze for a long time.

 

When at last she spoke her voice was quiet, the sentiment simple.  To Tad, the words had never sounded so sweet.

 

“Let’s go home.”

 

 

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