The Year They Fell Page 3

  KILLED     SMALL PLANE CRASHED

  NEW JERSEY      INSPECTOR     WALLAS LAKE POLICE

           TWIN-ENGINE     RESCUE AND RECOVERY

                                  SHALLOW WATERS

       NEXT TO IMPOSSIBLE     DECEASED PERSONS     NTSB

  NO SURVIVORS     VICTIMS’ IDENTITIES

  No survivors. Victims. Deceased. I hurled Josie’s laptop across the room. It shattered against the wall and she still didn’t budge.

  “They’re gone, Jo,” I whispered. “They’re gone.”

  I grabbed a blanket and threw it over her legs. “Wake up. Please.”

  A loud WOOO exploded through the open door from downstairs. Up here, the world had just broken forever, but downstairs everything was the same.

  I wandered down to the living room barely feeling my legs. It’s like I was watching it all in a movie. The lacrosse guys were standing on the couch doing shots. A pack of drunken girls were attempting to rap along to the music near the DJ. Some wasted idiot was leaning his head against a photo of our family trip to the Cape.

  I felt rage and pressure building up inside me. Like on the football field. Or when Dad got in my face. I hated this fucker touching our picture. I wanted to hurt him and everyone else in the room. I shoved two people aside and headed straight for him. But before I could reach the guy Siobhan came up and stuck her hand in my back pocket.

  “Sorry about before, babe. You know I hate it when you don’t listen to me? Where’ve you been? Someone said Josie’s really messed up?” The music was pounding my head.

  “Jacko!” Cody was holding Dayana by the arm. “What did ‘Walking Dead’ say to Josie? What’s going on, dude?”

  I grabbed Cody by the throat and slammed the back of his head against the door. Then I dragged him out to the porch and launched him down the steps. When I walked back inside, the party had suddenly gone quiet.

  I shoved the DJ and snatched his mic. “Get out!” I shouted. “Get the fuck out! All of you.”

  When they didn’t move, I moved them. When they resisted, I got rough. When they tried to reason with me, I got rougher. Soon they were running out on their own.

  Siobhan tried to talk to me, but I shut her down, too. “Go. Just go with your friends.”

  I don’t know if it took five minutes or two hours to clear the room of all but three. When I finally slammed the door I was breathing heavy and bleeding from a scratch on my arm. Only Archie, Harrison, and Dayana were left. The three who were never supposed to be here in the first place.

  Archie looked panicked. “We were just about to—”

  “Go upstairs,” I growled. “She’s already in there.” Dayana covered her mouth and stumbled past me.

  Archie used the back of his hand to wipe his glasses. “You want us to go up to Josie’s room?”

  Upstairs, Josie hadn’t moved. I couldn’t be sure she’d even blinked. Her feet were poking out of the blanket, her shoes resting on the clean, white comforter. I carefully unstrapped them and tossed them on the floor.

  From the open bathroom came a horrible, guttural sound. “Bluuuuuch!” Dayana was kneeling in front of the toilet, puking her guts out.

  “Hey,” said Archie. “You realize this is like the first time we’ve all been in the same room together in like thirteen years.”

  “Bluuuuch!”

  “Well, pretty much the same room. I mean, I’m not sure you count the bathroom, but we did walk in at the same time so that probably counts. Not that it matters, but I’m just saying.”

  Harrison reached down to pick up the pieces of Josie’s laptop. “What happened to this computer? You’re going to need it for the start of school. I think I could fix it if you’d like me to…”

  “Jack,” said Archie, “what’s wrong with Josie? ’Cause it seems like she’s—”

  “Don’t go near her!” I shouted.

  Archie pushed up his glasses and backed away. “Sorry. Has she said anything? Anything at all?”

  On the wall behind Josie’s bed hung a photo of Mom and Dad holding us at our Sunny Horizons backyard graduation. Dad was smiling and gripping a bunch of balloons, Mom was wearing her tennis whites. It was the last time the five of us had all been in this house together with our parents. “Something happened.” Small plane crash. No survivors. Archie and Harrison looked at me with these dumb expressions on their faces. “There was … an accident. That’s what Dayana came here to say. There was an accident.” Victims’ identities. Deceased persons. “Our parents. The plane. It was like one of those little shitty ones that go island to island. They didn’t make it.”

  They weren’t getting it. Or didn’t want to get it. Archie clutched the sketchbook under his arm. “What do you mean, they didn’t make it?”

  “Didn’t make it. The plane went down.”

  Harrison looked curious. “You’re saying there was a crash?”

  “Yes, that’s what I’m saying. The fucking plane carrying my mom and dad and your parents—”

  “My parents?” asked Archie.

  “Yes, yours, too.” I wanted to bash their heads together.

  Harrison already had his phone out, tapping it frantically. “Mom, it’s me. Call me as soon as you get this. It’s urgent.”

  What was wrong with them? “She’s not calling you back. Are you listening? They fucking crashed. There were no … There were no survivors…”

  “Oh, God,” moaned Archie as it finally hit. He leaned over and the glasses slipped off his face as he put his hands on his knees. “Oh, God. Oh, God.”

  Harrison stared at his phone. “She didn’t call. My mother had an international plan on her phone. If the plane were going down it would’ve taken minutes before it crashed. If she was aware of what was happening, she would’ve—”

  “Oh, God. Oh, God.”

  My hand clenched into a fist. “Stop saying that!”

  Archie bolted straight up. “Lucas. My little brother. I have to tell my brother. Oh G—” He caught himself and took a step away from me.

  Dayana stumbled out of the bathroom, wiping her mouth on her sleeve. “Do you have Lysol? Shit. It’s a mess.”

  “How did you know?” I asked.

  “Huh?”

  “About your parents. Did the airline call you?”

  “No, my parents weren’t … They’re not … Papi—his passport. They couldn’t go. They weren’t on the plane … I’ll grab some paper towels to clean up and then I’ll leave. I should go.”

  Wait. Her parents were alive?

  Archie was crying and sucking in big gulps of breath. “Josie?”

  “She’ll be fine,” I snapped. “Don’t worry about her.”

  “But is she…?”

  “I said she’ll be fine!”

  He swiped an arm across his nose. “Jack, I think … I think I saw her like this once before. Well, not this bad, but quiet and—”

  I ordered them to leave. All three of them. I wanted them out. I needed to be alone with my sister. I would take care of her this time. I would protect her.

  I heard the front door close. Josie’s chest moving up and down was the only sign she was still alive.

  “Don’t do this to me, Jo. Please, talk to me.” She didn’t move an inch. Not even her eyes.

  I took off my shoes and climbed up onto the big, soft bed. My weight made it creak and sag in the middle. The house was silent now except for Josie’s breathing. It sounded ragged, like she’d taken water into her lungs. Just like in that old sonogram, Josie was facing forward. I curled up on her left, turned toward her.

  Waiting for her to tell me what to do.

  * * *

  When we were kids, lying beside Jo was the only thing that quieted my thoughts and calmed me down. Most of the day, there was this pressure racing around in me. Pushing me to move around, to do something, anyt
hing. Sitting still in class was torture. I’d yell out or throw a book or kick someone else’s chair just to let some of that energy out. And then when Dad came home he’d yell at me for getting in trouble at school again and the pressure would build some more.

  But when it got really bad, Jo always knew when to pull me away to her room. I’d lie back, stare at the ceiling, and concentrate on her voice while she talked about softball or her friends or whatever. There was finally peace. And relief. But as I lay next to her the night of the party, she was silent and the thoughts in my head were never louder.

  Dad’s parents, Grandma Nelly and Grandpa Ralph, arrived after 5 A.M. and found me there, still waiting for Josie to talk. They’d both been crying, but they were dressed nicely like they always were.

  “Josie, can you hear me? It’s Grandpa. Can you say something, sweetie?”

  I told them she’d be fine, that she just needed a little time to deal, but Grandpa called his friend Dr. Mike to ask his advice. Grandma seemed very worried about the mess downstairs. “People are going to be coming here, Jack. We can’t leave it like this. Your parents wouldn’t have wanted that.” So she called Marybeth with the news that her longtime clients were dead, and their house wasn’t going to clean itself. Marybeth showed up, shaky and sniffling, and Grandma followed her around the house pointing out spots she was missing.

  As soon as the stores opened, Grandpa started making trips to delis, supermarkets, and coffee shops. “Your mom and dad meant something to a lot of people. To this community. You will never be alone. Wait until you and Josie see how they come out to support you.”

  He was right about the people. But wrong about Josie seeing it.

  While Jo remained under, our house filled up and stayed that way. News of the crash spread and by the next morning cousins, aunts, uncles, neighbors, Dad’s coworkers, Mom’s book club, even strangers started showing up. All I wanted to do was stay with Jo, but Grandma forced me to shower, shave, put on nice clothes, and come downstairs. “At least one of you needs to be there. And Dr. Mike is going to stop by later. I’d like him to take a look at Josie.”

  Everyone asked about Jo. When you’re 6'4", 260 pounds, and your parents just died, you can’t hide. Without Josie, I had to be the host of the party. Put on a jacket, greet people at the door, thank them for coming, listen to their boring stories, their bullshit clichés. When I tried to disappear to the basement to hit the heavy bag, Grandpa stopped me to deliver a speech about being “the man of the house.” His son would be proud.

  When we were six, Mom made Jo and me take piano lessons with some lady down the block. For a year, all we practiced was how to play “Heart and Soul,” that duet everyone knows. Jo got it right away. As usual, it took me eight times as long. I had a hard time sitting still on that bench. But eventually I got it.

  Once we had it down, the lessons stopped. And at every single party in our house Mom would lead us to the piano like a couple of show ponies. We’d sit at the piano, Josie playing the high notes and me playing the low ones. Mom would announce to everyone that this song was perfect for us because her twins really were two parts of a whole. I was the heart and Josie was the soul. I wondered if the people in our house the day after the crash were waiting for an encore.

  Grandpa’s buddy Dr. Mike showed up looking like he’d just come from playing eighteen at the golf course.

  “Thanks for coming, Mike. My granddaughter is upstairs.”

  Dr. Mike shook my hand and didn’t let go. “I’m sorry, pal. Your dad … I ever tell you about the time we won the member-guest tournament? So Rich lines up the putt and I’m thinking there’s no way. Not even Rich Clay can make this. I mean, you know your dad. The guy was like a god, but—”

  “Who the fuck cares?” It shot out of my mouth before I could stop it. But it felt good. I’d been keeping it inside so long.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Who. The. Fuck. Cares? He’s not a god. He’s dead. Mom’s dead, too. And Josie might as well be dead. Who the fuck cares about golf and cold cuts and stains on the fucking carpet?”

  Grandpa rushed over and dug his fingers into my bicep. “What are you doing, Jackie? Everyone’s looking at you.”

  I ripped my arm away and he stumbled back into the bar, knocking a bottle of vodka to the ground, where it shattered. As Grandma hurried over to clean it up, I bolted out the door, ripped off my sports jacket, and just kept going. I ran down our block and kept going. Past Dayana’s house. Then Archie’s. Past Sunny Horizons.

  My legs were shot and my lungs were burning, but I ran as hard as I could. I only stopped when I got to the beach and I couldn’t go any farther. I stood there, sucking in the salty air, staring at the waves. I know the ocean is supposed to calm some people down. I didn’t get that. It never stopped moving. Encroaching onto the land. Wave after wave after wave. Relentless. Pulling everything in, smashing it back down.

  When I finally staggered back up the driveway at home it was dark out and my dress shirt was soaked through with sweat. My calf started to cramp and I bent over to stretch when I noticed the smell of a cigarette. I limped into the backyard, where a woman in a black dress was smoking behind a bush. She spun around when she heard me approaching.

  Dayana’s mom. “Vanesa?” I said uncertainly.

  “Lo siento. Jack, sorry…” Her voice sounded dry and hollow.

  The back door slid open. We hung back as Grandpa Ralph walked outside to show off the pool to an older couple I didn’t recognize. When they went back inside, Vanesa coughed violently. Her face looked puffy and swollen, like a boxer’s.

  “Daya … She is in the car.”

  “You can come inside. Both of you.”

  I heard jingling as Dayana hurried around the corner. Her eyes were red and glassy. “We should go, Mami. I told you this was a mistake.”

  Why? Vanesa was their friend. She worked with Dad at the law firm. She probably knew him better than most of the people inside. “They’re the ones who should go home,” I said. “I can’t deal with everyone saying the same shit, the same pointless shit. ‘They were wonderful people.’ ‘They loved you.’ ‘They were lucky to have you.’ I just stare and nod.”

  “It’s like Mom and Dad are throwing a party, but they’re not here. And Jo’s gone,” I said.

  Dayana let go of her mother’s arm. “Still?”

  “I don’t understand,” said Vanesa. “Where did Josie go?”

  “She’s awake and her eyes are open, but she’s not there. I don’t know where she is. My grandparents want her to see a doctor. I just … I just need her to wake up.”

  “If you need help, don’t be afraid to ask.” Vanesa removed another cigarette from her purse and lit it with a shaky hand. She looked over at Dayana. “Fourteen years and not one smoke,” she said, “since we arrived here.” The cigarette slipped from her fingers and dropped to the ground. She cursed in Spanish, then said, “Your dad. He was a busy man. I know he was hard on you, but—”

  “Mami! He just said he doesn’t want to hear bullshit. Come on.” Dayana started to drag her mother back to the car.

  “What’s it like?” I asked, stopping them in their tracks.

  “What?”

  “What’s it like to be almost dead?”

  Vanesa stared at me. I wished I hadn’t asked that.

  She just turned and ran off.

  Dayana didn’t know what to do. “I’m sorry, Jack. I’m sorry it’s all so fucked-up.”

  I stood there in the driveway. Alone again. Vanesa’s cigarette smoldered in the flower bed. I stubbed it out with my heel and watched the smoke float up and slowly drift off into the sky. I dropped to my chest at the side of the pool and dunked my head into the cool water. I thought about how when she was little Jo used to sit at the bottom of the pool and how it always freaked me out. With my face in the water, I couldn’t hear anything coming from inside the house. I kept my head under until my lungs burned and I started to feel light-headed. Until I couldn’t last
any longer. Almost dead.

  I pulled my face out and gasped for air as the water dripped off my shaved head. As I stood up, I got a weird feeling someone was watching me. I looked over at the blue house peeking out of the trees behind ours. In a small window on the top floor, a ghostly face pressed against the glass. As soon as I spotted him, Harrison pulled the blinds closed and disappeared.

  I turned and walked back toward the house, toward Josie. The house had never been more full of people and it had never been emptier.

  4

  JOSIE

  Of course I heard all the randoms coming and going. Grandma kept bringing visitors into my bedroom to talk to me. They had lots of kind and loving words to say about Mom and Daddy. And I could feel the vibration of my phone blowing up next to me. I heard Jack promise everything would be okay. I also heard him go into the bathroom by himself, turn on the water, and scream until his voice was hoarse.

  But most of the time it was coming from far away.

  When I was little, I liked to see how long I could hold my breath underwater. Daddy would set his stopwatch and I’d fill my lungs and sink to the bottom of the pool. I liked hanging out down there. The sun made these shimmering reflections that looked like the sky on a different planet. You could hear voices at the surface, but it’s like they were coming from someplace else.

  So when Dayana’s words sunk in at the party, it’s like this hole opened behind her, one only I could see. I just wanted to go away, to pretend that none of this was real. So I pinched my nose and I dove in. As a kid, I never got to see how long I could stay down there because Jack would get all anxious, dive in, and try to drag me to the top. He was small and not very strong, but he kept tugging at me until I had to come up. Daddy said it was just like Jack to give up before I did.

  He was a lot bigger and stronger now, and he worked hard to drag me to the surface, but I kept going under again. Underwater was peaceful and safe. Time didn’t matter. Nothing was real. I didn’t have to think about Daddy and Mom.

  What was the last thing I said to them? I couldn’t even remember. I was in the middle of some text-chain drama over the party guest list when they hopped a car to the airport. Did I even say goodbye?