Page 5 of Raging Inferno

Chapter Two

Perfect Love

They say there is a reason for everything and that time heals all wounds. But neither time nor reason will ever fill the void left in my heart. I wake up every morning and go through the motions because that’s what I’m supposed to do. I force a smile and pretend I’m carrying on with my life but the truth is the heartache still lives inside of me. It burns deep and cuts like a knife.

Especially on days like today.

On September eleventh the country mourns and until seven years ago, I did too. I was only seventeen years old when the attacks happened but like everyone else, I remember exactly where I was and what I was doing when those planes crashed into the twin towers. Like so many others, I stood paralyzed watching the television in horror as innocent people were terrorized. It was a horrible day for all of humanity and while I may have been fortunate not to lose anyone close to me, I still took a moment to pause and reflect.

Seven years ago, I sat in the corner of a packed coffee shop in lower Manhattan studying for my finals. I was a semester away from getting my Master’s Degree and one step closer to becoming a guidance counselor. My coffee had gone cold, and I peeled myself away from my books to get a refill when I glanced up at the television and saw the live footage of the memorial taking place just blocks away from the coffee shop.

I wasn’t paying attention when the man in front of me turned around and we collided. I lifted my hands to steady myself and wound up knocking the piping hot coffee all over him. It spilled down his leg, and he flinched at the burn. Quickly, I grabbed a stack of napkins from the counter behind him and offered my apologies as I patted his wet thighs.

Yeah, you heard me correctly.

In the middle of a crowded coffee shop, I manhandled a complete stranger.

How’s that for first impressions?

We laughed about it years later but it took some time for me not to turn all shades of red whenever we talked about how we met.

In case you were wondering that perfect stranger became my perfect love.

After the coffee incident, he bought us both a cappuccino. I protested, but he insisted he wasn’t a floozy.

“I usually have to buy the lady a drink or two before she puts her hands on me,” he said with a wink.

He was a comedian. Not literally but, Christopher was the guy who had the ability to make anyone laugh and could put a smile on your face no matter how bad of a day you were having. At least he always managed to do those things for me.

He joined me at my table and asked me about myself, using the stack of textbooks as an opening. I told him about school and in turn, I learned he was an investment banker. At one point during the conversation, he paused mid-sentence and glanced at the television as the names of the victims were being read.

I would later learn those weren’t the names of strangers but the names of his co-workers. At the time, Christopher worked for Cantor Fitzgerald and he was on his way up to his office when the first plane hit. He, along with several others were trapped inside an elevator until they were rescued by a fireman.

Christopher didn’t like rehashing that day and I think that’s because he felt the weight of survivor’s guilt. Still, I couldn’t help but think it was some sort of sign from above that not only was he rescued from such a horrible attack but, ten years later on that very same day we met.

The thing about signs though is that they’re not always in your favor.

Fate is a beautiful thing until it isn’t anymore. Until you’re standing in the back of the church, prepared to marry your soulmate only to learn he was in a car accident. Until you’re wearing your wedding dress and identifying the body of your fiancée. Until you’re in the bathroom a month later staring at a positive pregnancy test wondering how you’re going to go on.

I’ve spent the last four years, staring into my son’s eyes asking myself why.

Why cheat death once and not twice?

Why make him leave this world never knowing his son?

Why make him leave me when I had so much love to still give him?

Like I said, no reason will ever make it right and time doesn’t heal anything. Fate is a bitter pill to swallow. Sometimes you have to slip that bitch under your tongue and pretend you’re okay.

Sometimes you have to pretend you’re not dying inside.

I’ve become quite the actress over the last few years and keep the crying to a minimum. In truth, there are times when I forget to cry when I’m too busy being a mother, a father, and a guidance counselor to remember my broken heart. Then there are times after my son Chris is safely tucked in bed when I lock myself in the bathroom and mourn the perfect man, my perfect love.

Times like now when I sit behind my desk and stare at the dysfunctional couple in front of me and try not to scream as they bicker over the most senseless and superficial bullshit. So their marriage didn’t work, do they have any idea how lucky they are? They are both alive and able to be part of their daughter’s life. They get to watch her grow and witness life through her eyes. Do they have any fucking idea how precious that is or how many people aren’t that fortunate?

My guess is no.

“If you were paying attention to her we wouldn’t be here,” the father hisses. Dressed in his bunker gear, he scratches the scruff lining his jaw in frustration.

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