Dear Neighbor, Drop Dead (33 page)

An energized Richard ran over. “Good news! I asked one of the guys up there if a pregnant woman would be one of the first off and he said yes. That means Mindy would be right behind Beth.”

“Good, good!” Artie had to force himself to focus. “What else did he say? How much longer are they going to be up there?”

“Another twenty minutes maybe. Half hour tops . . . I can’t believe they’re not shutting down the airport for this. The terminals haven’t been evacuated. It’s like business as usual out there.”

“That’s strange because I heard someone say the tarmac looks like an army invaded— rescue workers, fire trucks, ambulances.

Have you been drinking?”

“Yeah, but not enough.” Richard blew into a tissue. “I swear to God I’ve never been so scared in my entire life. The thought of all these people strapped in their seats not knowing what’s going to happen to them is blowing my mind. I don’t know what I’ll do if she doesn’t make it off that plane. I’ve screwed up so royally. . . .”

“Want to know my one regret?” Artie whispered. “That I never bought Mindy a nicer engagement ring. I know how much she wanted something a little bigger. I could kick myself now. I blew money on such stupid stuff when I could have used it to show her how much I loved her . . .”

“I just want to make things right, especially with a baby coming,” Richard sniffed. “I hope to God they’re okay. . . .”

“What the fuck!” A bewildered Aaron looked up from his crouch position. “We need to start prayin’ or somethin’.”

Some choice! Wait around for word of the landing or follow one of the staff into a room where a small closed-circuit television had been set up. Artie was astounded by how many people Dear Neighbor, Drop Dead

293

jumped at the chance to watch, as if this was a Hollywood movie, not a potential real-life tragedy.

Richard opted to watch so he didn’t have to spend another minute in a crowded conference center listening to people’s annoying cell conversations or well-meaning clergy.

Artie was still undecided because of Aaron. How could he let this young, troubled kid possibly witness a plane blowing apart?

He’d carry this image to his grave, although sitting around staring at tables of food and drinks thinking Mindy had left this earth would be more surreal.

Only to look around and realize that while he had been contemplating his terrible options, Aaron was once again making his own decisions. He was gone.

“Call his cell,” Richard said. “We’ve only got another few minutes.”

“We didn’t get him one yet.” He wiped a sweaty brow. “Where the hell could he have gone?”

Everyone with whom they’d spent the past few harrowing hours had a suggestion. Try the men’s room, the vending machines down the hall, the newsstand, even the roof. Maybe he was trying to catch sight of the landing from there, no matter that he could be arrested for trespassing.

Artie was so torn between shock and anger that at the very moment he was supposed to be bracing for a possible disaster, he was cursing out his kid for his senseless acts.

“We gotta go.” Richard nudged Artie. “He’ll show up eventually. Poor kid’s probably hiding under a couch.”

“You don’t know my son. When he runs away, he looks for blow jobs.”

“God, I love this kid!”

Artie looked around the room full of brave people who had said that no matter how terrified, they wanted to watch the land-294

Saralee Rosenberg

ing. Of course in this day of dazzling, fifty-inch televisions with state-of-the-art high-definition images, none of them expected to have to gather around a small black-and-white set from the days of
The Ed Sullivan Show.

And rather than looking out for fellow survivors, people were elbowing for a better spot. But it was in the midst of being shoved aside that Richard saw an image on the screen that made him wonder if maybe he’d drunk too much after all, for now he was seeing things. “Is that Aaron?”

“Where?” Artie wedged himself closer to get a glimpse.

“Over there.” Richard pointed to the top right of the screen.

“Yeah, that
is
him. . . . Those are my Nikes. . . . Look, do you see him? He’s wearing a helmet and a yellow raincoat!”

“Son of a bitch.” Artie stared. “How the hell did he get out there? I’m going to fucking kill him! He could die!”

“Where are you going?” Richard grabbed him.

“What do you mean? I have to have someone go get him. He can’t be out there.”

“Sir, there isn’t time,” some woman from the family assistance team said. “I don’t even think we can notify one of the squad captains now; it’s too late. The plane is about to touch down.”

“Oh my God!” Artie crouched down. “Oh my God . . . how could he do this to me?”

“Wait. Look,” Richard waved him over. “One of the guys just gave him a hose and stuck him on a truck.”

“Oh man! I bet it was one of the guys he talked to when he went downstairs to find his friend’s dad. . . . I can’t watch now.”

“Yes you can. You’re the one who said we had to stay positive.”

“Yeah, but that was before my idiot son decided to play fire-man! The kid always loved fire trucks. . . . Just yesterday we were cleaning out his old house and found this one from when he was a baby. I bet he went out there for Jimmy Fitzgerald. . . .”

Dear Neighbor, Drop Dead

295

“Or for Mindy,” Richard patted Artie. “No way does he want to lose another mom.”

As people held hands bracing for the landing, they gasped. Just before touching down, the plane suddenly thrust upward, bank-ing steeply to the right before soaring back into the air. Nobody had mentioned the possibility that the attempt would be aborted at the last second.

“I have no idea,” the head supervisor said, knowing that everyone would demand an explanation. “Obviously there was a problem. Maybe the angle was bad or the wind speed . . .”

“Practice makes perfect,” a young woman crossed herself.

“They’re coming back . . . they’re trying again.” Richard sounded like one of the play-by-play announcers on
Monday
Night Football.
“Holy shit, is that smoke?”

Artie wished there was a split screen so that he could monitor the landing while trying to keep an eye out for Aaron, and oh God, Richard was right. The nose of the plane was on fire, raw flames and plumes of gray smoke were ripping across the belly.

“Oh my God!” Artie cried.

“Land!” Richard screamed. “Fucking land the plane already!”

“Why aren’t they foaming down the runway?” someone yelled.

“I’m gonna be sick.” A man ran out.

Then in an instant, the plane came crashing downward on its belly like a cannonball, but instead of decelerating, it was picking up velocity on the wet pavement, sliding from side to side like a mad skater. Suddenly the screen went white, obliterated by huge sprays of foam shooting from every direction. With zero visibility, the only things to focus on were the piercing sounds.

Sirens, alarms, water dousing from hoses, the crackle of f lames, people screaming?

In the corner of the tiny screen, they could spot signs of life: 296

Saralee Rosenberg

passengers sliding down a chute, then running, slipping, tripping, grabbing hands covered in foam. . . .

“I think I see my son!” a woman cried. “I think that’s him!

That’s his jacket!”

A panicked Richard and Artie were glued to the screen. Weren’t Beth and Mindy supposed to be among the first ones off?

“Ain’t that your kid?” a man nudged Artie. “Looks like he’s carrying somebody . . . oh Christ . . . he fell!”

“Get up, Aaron!” Artie shouted as if he was watching the Jets in overtime. “Get up! Run!”

“Can you see who he’s with?” Richard squinted.

“No, they’re too far away . . . wait, hold on, is that Beth? I see some light-colored hair . . .”

“Oh my God! That
is
her! he found her!” Richard hugged him.

“He found her!”

“Yeah, but where’s Mindy?” Artie gulped. With dozens of people f leeing, it was near impossible to make out faces. “C’mon Mindy! Show up!”

A moment later, Richard high-fived him. “I see her. . . . it’s definitely her!”

“Where?”

“Right over there,” he pointed. “Looks like she’s carrying someone, too . . . an older man maybe. It’s hard to tell.”

“Oh my God, you’re right. It
is
her!”

“She’s unbelievable, Artie!”

“I love you honey,” Artie said as tears streamed down his face.

“They made it!” Richard hugged him. “They goddamn made it!”

“Thank you, God!” Artie fell to his knees. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“We’re driving home,” were Mindy’s first words when she tore through the terminal doors and collapsed in Artie’s arms.

Dear Neighbor, Drop Dead

297

“Whatever you say.” He kissed her. “Although they mentioned something about giving us free flights back.”

“Free?” She laughed, afraid to let go, as this was the moment she’d prayed for. “Okay, maybe.”

Then Aaron walked in, received a hero’s welcome, and hugged Mindy so tight she well understood his meaning. They were family to each other from this day forward.

“You’re grounded.” Artie slapped him on the back.

“For what?” Aaron removed his fire helmet and shook out dust and debris.

“What do you mean for what? For scaring the crap out of me.”

“Fine. What’s my punishment?”

“I don’t know. Haven’t thought about it yet.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m just gonna appeal. I have an in with Judge Mindy.”

“That’s right,” she said, wiping her eyes. “Aaron can do no wrong. You wouldn’t believe how many people he carried out, and the smoke was getting so awful.”

“Fine!” I’ll make it a light sentence.” Artie laughed. “No allowance for a month.”

“Fuck that, man. I’m as rich as you now!”

“True. Then okay, just give me your word you’re done with the dangerous stunts for now. I swear I thought I was going to lose both of you, and I don’t know what I would have done.”

Aaron couldn’t respond because he was whisked away by a reporter from one of the news channels.

Meanwhile, Beth and Richard were huddled in a corner, both at a loss for words. They had forgotten that beneath the hard-ened surface of hostilities lay a foundation of love and compan-ionship.

Mindy looked over and smiled, sensing that Richard had just asked Beth if she was pregnant, and she looked in his eyes and nodded yes. Together they cried, knowing how difficult it would 298

Saralee Rosenberg

be to cast aside the years of hurt and pain, yet understanding that the only way to reconcile this near-death experience was to get their priorities straight.

“I swore if you walked off that plane, I was going to do anything you asked,” Richard said.

“Funny, I swore the same thing. If I walked off that plane, you were doing anything I asked.”

“Let’s call home and then get the hell out of here so we can go celebrate our amazing luck.”

But there would be a long delay, as most of the passengers couldn’t bear to leave the airport cocoon, their experience so traumatic they wanted to maintain the bond that had united them. For the next few hours it was all about hugging, retelling the tales, taking pictures, drinking champagne, exchanging contact information, answering reporters’ questions, praising the airline crew, and celebrating life and love.

And making resolutions, for not one among them felt they could squander this second chance to get it right. Yet the one with the greatest resolve was not a passenger but a hometown boy who in a moment of terror had heard a calling to rescue innocent people, not in the name of obligation, in the name of courage.

Mindy had been the first adult who had ever cared enough about him to hold him accountable for his decisions and to urge him to be brave in his pursuits. It was in her honor that he tore out onto the tarmac.

The next day his picture was in the
Oregonian,
but it was the caption he loved best: AARON FINDLEY, LOCAL HERO, FUTURE

FIREFIGHTER. He bought extra copies in the event he was ever arrested again.

Twenty-six

It took five days for Mindy to be able to wake up and not have as her first thought the life-altering event that had changed her outlook. She was over the shock that finally they would have money in the bank. Gone was the need to break into hives when the credit card bills arrived.

Recovery from the plane crash would take much, much longer.

But because she hated long car rides and wanted to hurry home to see her kids, say nothing of the offer of free f lights and the extreme odds against lightning striking twice, Mindy agreed to fly back. Also, Beth refilled her Xanax prescription and offered to hand over the bottle if there were any terror-filled moments on board.

The first two days home f lew by in a frenzy of phone calls, e-mails, and spontaneous celebratory gatherings with family and friends, offering endless chances to recount the unforgetta-ble story and the heroics of Artie’s son. Even News 12 and
Newsday
came out to interview them, citing the miracle landing that spared two Merrick families from a terrible tragedy.

But it wasn’t all joie de vivre. Little Ricky and Nadine were 300

Saralee Rosenberg

directing unprovoked anger toward Mindy, and it took a showdown to discover their motives. A sister-kicking, toy-throwing Ricky was struggling to cope with the idea that his mommy almost died and that now she liked his new big brother better than him. “He came here to be with Daddy, not you.”

Nadine, supposedly older and wise, was sour grapes over the fact that the
Newsday
piece had referred to Mindy and Beth as best friends. “And what am I? Chopped liver?”

Probably not a good time to mention to either of them that she and Artie had seriously discussed relocating to Portland. But after spending two days there, and getting an impressive grand tour led by Aaron, Mindy could no longer dismiss the idea as

“absofuckinfreakincrazy.”

The turning point came while having dinner with Artie’s old friend Andy Levinger and his wife, Tracey. Such nice people and their stunning mountain-view home with tennis courts and a pool caught them by surprise. Did Mindy and Artie dare to dream?