When I'm Gone (11 page)

Chapter 20-September 10, 2001 (Claire)

The bell rang and I turned my attention to the door. I could hear students conversing in the hallway, but so far no one had stepped into my room. I sighed and tried to stand up straighter. Behind me, my name was written in big loopy letters along with the assignment for the day.
“Where are my students?” I wondered aloud. Suddenly, a large group of students stumbled into my classroom. I smiled slightly and watched as they took their seats.
“We have a new teacher.”
“What happened to Mrs. Jewel?”
“I heard she retired after last year.”
“
Dang it.
I loved her.”
“I wonder if she is good enough to be our teacher.”
I silently listened to their conversations and frowned as they criticized me. I tugged on the hem of my vintage tee, pulling it down over my black skinny jeans. I checked out my high tops and lowered my hand, making the bangles around my wrist jingle. I sighed as the bell rang once more.
Alex ran into the room, an apologetic smile on his lips. I stared at him in disapproval as he took his seat next to a tall
latino
girl.
“I hope you aren’t late like this all of the time, Alex,” I warned. Blush crept up his neck and he shook his head.
“I won’t,” he said. “I promise.”
“Good.” I smiled at him and clasped my hands together.
“Hey, everybody.
My name is Ms. Barnes and I am your new senior art teacher.”
“Are you any good?” A boy called out from the back. He had short blonde hair and bright eyes that were lit up with anticipation
.
“
Any good at what?”
I asked.
“Art?” he replied. I laughed and turned to my desk. I pulled out a large canvas and kept its back to my students
.
“Well, who here believes that if I wasn’t good at art, then I would be teaching you all,” I suggested. I watched as a few students raised their hands tentatively. I smiled.
“Well, can you?” the boy called out again. I turned my canvas around and propped it up on my easel which was centered at the front of the room.
“You tell me,” I said and stepped away. I heard gasps of disbelief and a few murmurs here and there. The
boy
who called me out, stood up in the back and walked closer to get a better look.
“You painted that?” he asked in a shocked voice. I nodded
.
“I did,” I muttered and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You like it?”
“Definitely,” he answered and smiled at me. I took a step back a studied the painting myself. I had done it yesterday after being bored for two hours straight. Michael was working and Alex had another date.
The painting was of a man in his late twenties. He had long black hair and bright green eyes. He
was wearing a fire fighter’s uniform and in the background was a building that had caught on fire. It was a really good painting if I did say so myself
.
“Was there a model for it?” A girl walked over to us, also studying the painting. I shook my head
.
“Actually I did this from memory,” I explained. She nodded her agreement before looking back at me.
“Who is it?” she asked. I paused and my gaze swept over the classroom. The students were waiting for my answer; they all looked to be on the edge of their seats.
“Um,” I mumbled. “It’s my boyfriend.”
“Aw, that’s so sweet,” she cooed and went back to her seat. The boy followed her and I faced my class
.
“Okay, well let’s start by getting to know each other,” I said and smiled at them. A few smiled back and I laughed. I walked over to the first table and pointed to a small girl with long blonde hair pulled into a high ponytail. “Starting here, let’s go around and say our names as well as the medium we like to paint in. You can start.”
I nodded at the girl and she swallowed loudly.
“Well, my name is Jennifer and I like charcoal,” she managed. I smiled at her and listened as the next boy went. We did this for a few minutes and when we got to the back where Alex was sitting I froze
.
“I’m Alex and I like colored pencils,” Alex proclaimed and smiled at the girl beside him. She blushed and looked over at me. Her dark skin shone in the
flourescent
lights and her long brown hair hung straight right below her shoulders. She had streaks of red, purple and blue in the strands of hair and her eyes were a dark brown. They were wide, set in a small, but open face.
“Hi. My name is Hope and I like colored pencils as well,” she murmured and pushed her hair behind her ear. I noticed she had multiple piercings in her ears as well as one in her nose. I smiled at her and watched as Alex grasped her hand under the table. She laughed nervously and grinned at him.
The other students went through their names and at the
end,
I went back to the front of the room.
“Okay, so today I think that we should decide on our project for the first four weeks. I have heard great things about you guys, so I am expecting a masterpiece.”
Everybody looked at one another, fear taking over their expressions. I laughed, making them jump.
“I’m just kidding,” I giggled. They let out sighs of relief and laughed along with me. “But I am expecting something decent. I don’t want you slacking. I know all of you are great artists.”
“What do we do? Like, what’s our subject?” Hope asked. I shrugged, causing a few students to shoot me strange looks.
“Whatever you want,” I told them. “It can be realistic or abstract. It can be of people or of animals. I can be watercolor or acrylic. You decide. You are the artist and I am giving you reign over everything.”
“Wow,” Jennifer muttered. “Thanks, Ms. Barnes.”
“All of the supplies are in there,” I pointed to the supply closets. “And the aprons are hanging up by the door.”
There were a few whispers around the room and students started to stand up.
“Okay guys. Let’s get to work.
--------------------------------------------------------
At
hte
end of class, I started to walk around the room, glancing at everybody’s work so far. I was
thouroughly
impressed as I strolled through the room.
“Wow, Jennifer, that looks really good,” I cooed as I watched her put some finishing strokes on the bird she was working on. She had done it in charcoal and so far, it looked amazing. It was beautifully drawn and the wings were spread into a graceful pose.
“Thanks,” she said and put down her piece of charcoal. “I love birds.”
“I can see,” I laughed. “Good luck on the rest of it.”
“Thanks,” she said again and stood up to clean up the rest of her mess.
I walked over to the back of the room, where Alex and Hope were hard at work on their own drawings. I stood behind them and cleared my throat. They looked up at me, startled
.
“It’s almost time to go. You guys need to start cleaning up,” I warned. They nodded and walked away, leaving me to look at their drawings.
Hope’s drawing was of a large dragon. It was intricately drawn; the details were exquisite. She had started to color the face green and the shading was perfect.
I never meet anybody who can shade like she
can,
I thought and smiled to myself.
Then, I looked at Alex’s. He had drawn a large butterfly, which was also
exquistely
detailed. He had already colored the body of the butterfly and his shading was very nice. But it wasn’t as good as Hope’s. They walked back over, hand in hand.
“Guys, these are amazing. What gave you the ideas for these?” I gushed. They gave each other a look before turning to me. Hope spoke first.
“Actually, got the idea from Alex’s tattoo on his arm,” she explained and nudged Alex. “Show her.”
“No thanks,” I interrupted and
recieved
a strange look from Hope. Laughing, Alex rolled his eyes.
“Hope, Ms. Barnes is actually my sister,” he explained. A knowing look crossed over her face and she smiled.
“That’s crazy,” she exclaimed. “You two look nothing alike.”
“Everybody says that,” Alex and I said in unison. We laughed and I touched Alex’s shoulder.
“What about
your
drawing?” I asked. He blushed and I immediately regretted asking him.
“Um, well Hope has a butterfly tattoo on the small of her back,” he mumbled, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck. “That’s my inspiration.”
“Aw, that’s cute,” I said. “Are you two
official
?”
“Yes,” Hope stated immediately. Alex laughed at her excitement and tightened his grip on her hand.
“Well, Hope,” I started. Alex groaned and I shushed him, “you will have to come over for dinner
sometime. Or we can go out. I would love to get to know you.”
“Thanks,” she replied.
“Same here.”
The bell rang-a shrill sound- and everybody grabbed their bags. They called out their goodbyes to me and left my room. I sighed and leaned against a table.
“Today is going to be a long day,” I said to myself as another group of students walked in the door.

Chapter 21-September 11, 2001; 5:49 a.m. (Michael)

Flames flew into the air. Smoke poured out onto the streets. I could hear screaming, as people ran towards me. Moms clutched their little kids to their chests; tears streamed down their cheeks.
“What’s going on?” I called out, stopping a woman with my arm. She stared at me, her eyes wide and bloodshot. With a shaking finger, she pointed behind her. I looked up and felt my breath leave me. Two tall
skyscapers
towered above me. Their tops were not visible under all of the black smoke. I lowered my gaze and saw what everybody was scared of. Two gaping holes were drawn into the sides of the buildings, fire leaping out. Faintly, I could hear people screaming for help from the hole.
I looked down and noticed that I was in my fire fighter clothes. My helmet was situated on the top of my head and I took in a deep breath. It was time
.
“It’s the big one, bro.” I heard Andrew’s voice beside me and glanced over at him. He, too, was in his uniform, an oxygen tank strapped to his back. I nodded.
Firefighters would always say that to one another. We would say it as a goodbye. “See you at the big one.” I never thought it would actually happen.
The smoke was thickening in front of us. Andrew nudged me and together we ran into the black abyss
.
“
Argh
!”
I shouted and sat up. Sweat poured down my chest and my breathing was harsh; it hissed through my clenched teeth. I ran a hand over y forehead, wiping off the sweat that had beaded there. I glanced at my clock; it was time to head to work.
I eased out of my bed, shivering as my feet hit the hardwood floor. I stumbled into my bathroom, grumbling all the way. Glancing into the mirror, I grabbed my mouthwash. I gargled for a minute before spitting it back out into my sink.
Whistling to myself, I turned on the shower. I jumped back as the cold water splashed onto my face.
“At least I’m awake now,” I muttered and took off my
tshirt
.
-------------------------------------------------
After getting out of the shower, I slid on a pair of shorts and my FDNY t-shirt. I towel-dried my hair, then threw the towel on my bed. I slid on my tennis shoes and walked out of the room.
I went to the kitchen, where I grabbed a banana from the bowl on my counter. I peeled it quickly, stuffing half of it in my mouth. I took a piece of paper and a pen from a drawer and set it on the small table in the kitchen. I quickly wrote a note to Claire.
Hey Claire.
Dinner tonight?
See you at 7.
Love, Michael
I folded it and stuck it in my pocket. Smiling to myself, I went to the living room and sat on the couch. I finished my banana and thought of nothing else but Claire.
Her stormy grey eyes.
He short cinnamon hair. The way she smiled when I surprised her.
“Oh, Claire,” I murmured and stood up again. I threw the banana peel into the trash and walked
out of the door. I stopped by Claire’s apartment to slide the note under the door and then was on my way.
I took a quick taxi down to the station. On the way we passed by the Twin Towers. I marveled at their gorgeous structure and then we passed by them.
I smiled to myself as I got out of the taxi. I checked our station’s building up and down before going inside. Once inside, I was greeted by a round of applause. I froze in the
doorwayand
watched as all of the fire fighters walked towards me. I raised my eyebrows in confusion
.
“Good job Michael,” somebody called out.
“It’s about time,” another one teased.
I saw Andrew snickering in the corner and I snatched him by the wrist. I pulled him over to me and stared hard at him.
“What is this?” I asked. He chuckled for another minute before speaking.
“I might have told a few people that you found your
soulmate
,” he managed between snickers. I gasped.
“You did what?” I yelled. Andrew started
laughin
again and patted me on the shoulder. “Why?”
“It’s all fun and games,” he said. I continued to glare at him until he stopped laughing. He stared at me with a peculiar expression. “What’s wrong?”
“I have a feeling something is going to happen today,” I explained. I told him about the dream I had had that morning. He listened silently, nodding at some places. When I finally finished, he just smiled.
“I am pretty sure that you are just freaking out,” he told me. I shook my head.
“No. I am not,” I fumed. “I have never had a dream like that before.”
Andrew watched me carefully
.
“Never,” I added for emphasis. He chuckled and slapped me on the back.
“Yes, you are,” he stated and walked out of the room. Grumbling under my breath, I followed him into the kitchen. There, I was greeted by more applause and a few whistles. Seth sauntered up to me and stuck out his hand.
“
Congats
man.
I’m so happy for you,” he exclaimed. I returned the gesture and we shook hands.
“Thanks, bro,” I replied.
“You think she’s the one?” he asked, trying to make small talk. I
grinned
a tight smile and shrugged my shoulders.
“I don’t know, Seth,” I admitted. “I think so, but I know Claire. And it will take her a while to realize it too. So, we will have to wait and see.”
“Well, at least she loves you,” he commented. I nodded and smiled for real.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “That makes things a whole lot easier.”
I grabbed a plate from the kitchen and made myself an omelet. I sat down to eat and thought about the day ahead. The guys were bustling around, but I tuned them out.
Is there really going to be ‘the big one’ today? I asked myself. Andrew thinks I’m crazy, but I know I’m not. I just know it.
I was interrupted in my thoughts when Andrew sat down beside me, his plate filled with eggs,
toast and bacon. I smiled at him and took my last bite.
“What happened last night?” I asked. He frowned, sighing towards his plate.
“We had a lot of false alarms. Kids were messing with us. We went back to the same spot three times, before calling the police to stop the calls,” he moaned. “There was a fire in a grocery store a little after midnight. No lasting damage, if you don’t count the whole fruits and vegetable section is demolished.”
“You finished the report?” I wondered aloud.
“Not yet,” he said. “I have a few more things to write down.”
For every call, we had to write a report. We went through them all later, checking things over, handing them to the chief.
“Chief Parsons here yet?”
I asked Andrew. He shook his head and shrugged.
“Not yet. He called and said he would be a little late,” Andrew stated. I nodded thoughtfully and took my dishes to the sink. I rinsed them off and stuck them on the drying rack. As a fire fighter, you never had time to fully wash the dishes. You never knew when you were going to eat.
“Hey guys,” a guy called out from the front door.
“Speak of the devil and he may appear,” Andrew uttered under his breath. I smothered my laughter and rolled my eyes at him.
Chief Trey Parsons walked into the kitchen and smiled at all of us. He was a large man in his late forties. He had thinning hair on the top of his head and today, he was sporting a five o’clock shadow. He was wearing a pair of khakis and a dark green polo.
I caught his attention and he waved at me. I waved back and smiled. He neared and I heard Andrew cough behind me.
“Suck up,” he coughed again and I kicked him under the table. I grunted and a smiled at my victory.
“How you doing, Herring?”
Chief Parsons asked, shaking my hand. I nodded
.
“Just fine, sir,” I answered. “And you?”
“
Great.
Just great.
You ready to fight some fires?” he teased. I laughed weakly at his cheesy joke.
“You know it,” I said. He slapped me on the back and went over to Andrew. He nodded strictly at him
.
“King,” he muttered.
“Chief Parsons,” Andrew replied. He shook his hand numbly and the chief walked away. I snickered into my hand and Andrew turned his
clare
on me.
“Tell me again why he hates you,” I inquired. Andrew said nothing, but continued to glare at me as he cleans up his plate. “Come on. Tell me.”
“You know why,” he stated. I laughed and stood up with him.
“Tell me again,” I pleaded. “Please?”
“I stole his ‘girlfriend’ in
twelvth
grade,” Andrew mumbled.
“And who is that girlfriend now?” I sang
.
“My wife,” he shot back. I laughed and slapped him on the back.
“See? Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” I asked.
“Don’t push your luck, Herring,” he warned and walked out of the room. Still laughing, I followed him to the weight room.