Mike enters a busy lunchtime 42nd Street and stops at a payphone. He drops a dime and dials.
"Ray Hand, hello," after a long ring.
"Hi Dad, its me," says Mike
"Hey Mikey, how’s it going?"
"All good Dad.....I’m actually in Manhattan. OK if I come home for a week or so?".
There’s a pause and his Dad eventually says, a little surprised, "Of course, but isn’t it mid semester? Everything OK?"
"An industry placement for my course, Dad, all good," Mike lied.
"OK sure, so when should I expect you?"
"Just finished a meeting in the City now so I’ll jump the subway and there in about 40 with the walk."
A short while later Mike picks up a small overnight case from a locker at Grand Central and heads down to the subway.
Mike exits at 7th Ave Station, turns off Nutbush heading South West into Park Slope - its just after home time on a Thursday and kids are already out playing on the now snow-free side walks making the most of the low sun in March.
Mike continues on and then unconsciously slows when he reaches the intersection of Seventh Avenue and Sterling Place. He stops and scans the scene and taking in the altered street scape. The mature trees on the side walks give way to small staked saplings and a number of new modern buildings, another under construction behind scaffolding, now stand amidst the proud Victorian and Edwardian four story edifices that line Sterling to the north - the recently healed scar from the sky.
And it’s just at that moment that he spots his Dad on the other side of the street waving at him, smiling shyly.
Mike crosses and the two men hug warmly and then fall into step as they continue the walk towards home.
"Surprised to see you there, Dad"
"I come over every so often these days - I guessed you’d be walking this way. A good excuse for a stroll now that the snow has started to go."
"Are you sure?" Mike says.
"Sure about what?"
"I mean is it a good idea, coming here?"
They walk on for a few seconds before his Dad answers.
"Getting hard to tell it ever happened. Those new blocks were empty for a couple of years. A magnet for all sorts of trouble - mind you, the whole suburb is going to the dogs. Not sure if you see that."
Mike let it drop - he knew better than to pick at that wound.
As they walked on, he recalled how he and a few other kids, high school seniors and a few younger kids, were drawn to the site and slipped through the barriers a week later on a Sunday to look wide eyed at the huge tail fin of the aircraft, "United" lettering scorched by jet fuel sitting at a jaunted angle in the middle of Seventh and Sterling. The bodies were gone and the rest of the airliner was in shredded pieces, left in place as the investigators methodically sifted, tagged and photographed. In another week it was all gone - a memory etched on his mind but life kept moving and for Mike it became just one part of growing up.
But his Dad, arriving with his fire unit within minutes of the crash to see the mangled passengers, smelt the burning flesh, would never be the same.
Mike’s adventures a week later had led to an immediate fight when he got home. He and his Mom cornered in the small living room, terrified as his Dad fumed and spluttered to get his words out - but then, unexpectedly, he seemed to shrink before them and fell strangely silent. His Mom crossed the room to embrace him and nothing more was said as Ray began to heave and sob. That’s when things changed - the outdoors man, fisherman and camper that had raised him with love and patience was gone. In his place was a solitary, haunted stranger that Mike would somehow never quite get to know in the years to follow.
Mike slept late on Friday morning to be awoken with a start as a towel is thrown at him through his old bedroom door at a quarter to nine.
Mike emerges a few minutes later and sits, unwashed, at the breakfast table as his father fixes him breakfast. The sun is up and reaches wanly across the snow dusted rooftops framed in the kitchen window to the west towards the elevated lanes of the BQE where it’s splits off to the Brooklyn–Battery Tunnel entrance. The vehicles, like toys at this distance, are backed up crawling bumper to bumper going across to Manhattan.
His Dad turns to him. "So what’s really going on?" he starts, a look of reproof on his face.
"What do you mean?"
"I thought you had a placement - like somewhere to be. Today."
Mike looks out the window again for a moment, thinking: why are we always kids in front of our parents?
"OK confession time," he says after a pause, "I was in town for a job interview," abandoning his white lie.
"OK, what kind of job?" his Dad asks.
"I know this is going to sound dumb but I can’t actually say."
"You don’t want to tell me."
"I can’t tell you."
"So what happened about College?"
"I’m still enrolled....."
"Mikey it’s an opportunity neither me nor your Mom ever had....I mean God knows you earned it. Any good job I know of you need a degree. You’d really chuck that all in?" his Dad says, jumping to the usual conclusions.
"The job is a crazy long shot, Dad - it probably wont work out but I have to see."
"Would the job be in New York?"
"It could be anywhere."
His father turned to look out the window this time. Mike’s announcement last year that, after 4 years in the army, he’d be 5 hours away at college in up state New York had hit his Dad hard. Alan looked at a pale blue sky and Mike sensed that his Dad stood before a precipice of a dark and lonely old age that had arrived far too soon.
"I need air," his Dad says.
Mike watches his father from the 3rd floor window enter the street wearing his heavy coat and fur hat a few minutes later - he seems to hesitate, uncertain for a moment, and then sets off.
His Dad returns in an hour or so with a newspaper and a few groceries.
Mike retreats into his room amidst the stacked cartons and opens a few boxes before finally picking up a well worn copy of Ian Fleming’s Goldfinger that he’d only ever managed to half read years ago - he lays out on the bed and starts to read. In the living room the TV comes on as his father settles in for the rest of the day.
Saturday sees the weather take a turn for the worst and the two men are housebound. Mike tiptoes around his Dad who is now clearly in a funk over Mike’s recent update.
Mike cooks them both dinner on Saturday evening. The meal passes largely in silence and then Mike finally confronts the situation.
"I made a decision - I’m going back to Syracuse on Monday.
"OK," his Dad says putting down his cutlery, looking up.
"But I need you to promise me something," Mike continues
"Sure, what exactly?"
"You’ll do something about your situation. Like talk to someone, or just get out of here every now and then, take up a hobby, get in contact with your buddies. You have to know its not easy for me either, thinking about you down here, living like this.....and my moving back in, here with you, isn’t the answer either. We’re grown ups, for Christ’s sake. That was never on the cards....you can do better than this."
"Sure, Mikey - I’ll do that, I promise," said his Dad, trying to smile. Mike sensed the pain behind the simple words.
"I love you, Pops, you know that," Mike finally adds, his eyes welling with water.
The two men remain seated, his Dad looks away and stifles the impulse to hug his only son.
Next day Mike is on an early train headed back up the Hudson River Valley to Syracuse. There are only a few passengers and Mike sits alone transfixed by the low sun over the serene waters for a long while before he pulls out an accounting text and begins to read.
Some weeks roll by and winter’s grip on the landscape finally shows the first signs of breaking in the east of the country. Back in class, Mike keeps more to himself this time around, trying to refocus on his studies and resigned to grinding out the next few years as the idea of taking a job seems to fade.
He spots more anti-war protesters whose numbers have swelled at this point. He makes an extra effort not to engage, not to get spotted as he heads to and from class and the student union building at meal times.
After a walk on a cool clear night to downtown just to clear his head, he finds himself alone watching the ice skaters on Clinton Square when Lucy gracefully pulls up to a stop on the ice.
"You’re pretty good.....for a Californian," he says
"Hi!" she says, "you should strap on a pair, come join."
"I’ll get something to eat and come watch you," Mikes says beaming.
Lucy skates off. Mike returns ring side with a steaming hot dog. Lucy approaches again.
"Haven’t seen you for a bit - did you leave campus?" a bit more breathless this time.
"I went home for a few days. Saw my Dad."
Later they walk next to the snow piled up on the deserted sidewalks leading South towards campus. Mike has Lucy’s skates draped around his shoulders over his heavy jacket.
"I can’t wait for Spring - this Winter’s been brutal," Mike is saying.
"I wanted to talk about what happened - the week before you disappeared," she asks changing the subject.
"I’m sorry for any part I had in that....." Mike says after a pause.
"It wasn’t your fault, Mike, I know that. I also know you held back."
Mike looks at her, sadness and regret on his face
"I think we like each other Mike....but I’m not sure this, we, wouldn’t be a mistake," she says warmly.
Mike turns to smile at her.
You’re smart and you’re kind - but dont you think we’d always be on different sides of something?" Lucy continues.
"How do you mean?" Mike asks, smiling warmly.
"It’s a whole lot of little and big things. The war obviously. But stupid stuff like the curfew - I’m breaking a dumb rule just by being out here with you. It’s ridiculous", she says. They stop walking under a street lamp, she steps forward looking up at him.
"I hadn’t really thought about it, You’re right on that front I guess."
There’s an awkward pause for a moment and then they kiss longingly.
"So where to from here?" Mike says.
"Com’on, my roommate is away this weekend - there’s a way to smuggle you in, " she says.
Next morning, they wake in an embrace in her single bed on Lucy’s side of her dorm room.
Momentarily there’s a quiet knock at the door. Lucy stands to answer, wrapping a sheet around herself. She opens the door a crack and there’s a quick confidential conversation with someone in the hallway that Mike cant quite hear before some muted laughter reaches his ears. Lucy closes the door and returns to join him.
"Busted but it’s only my other roomies," she says with a smile. "Better they know so they can try to keep the warden busy. We all cover for each other."
"I’ll bet," says Mike smiling sleepily.
Lucy fixes some coffee on a small table at the end of the room.
"So tell me more about New York?" she asks, handing him a cup.
There’s another knock - she returns to the door and some fruit and breakfast items are passed through. "That’s sweet!" she says, turning to him.
"There’s not much to tell. I stayed with my Dad in Brooklyn....but under false pretences. I was really there for a potential job. I ended up telling him the truth in the end but then he got pretty dark and so I decided to come back up - I couldn’t wait around down there with him. So I may as well be up here, I figured" Mike says.
"So you’ve not given up on the idea?"
"I dunno, maybe this changes things, don’t you think?"
"I don’t know about you but I’ve got class in about 30," she says smiling coyly
Mike pulls her closer, they kiss again and any idea of a lecture room is forgotten.
Later that day back in the common room of his dorm, Mike calls the Air America office and asks for Paul Hanson.
After a short hold, he reaches a secretary in Paul’s office.
"It’s Mike Hand calling. I wanted to leave a message for Mr Hanson"
"Go ahead please," says an over-efficient female voice.
"Please let him know....firstly can you please thank him for his time."
"Yes, anything else?" says the voice.
"To let him know that I’ve decided to go back to my studies, in Syracuse......" Mike continues.
"Mr Hand?" says a male voice coming on the line.
"Mr Hand, it’s Paul Hanlon speaking. We sent you a letter 2 weeks ago and we’ve been trying to reach you at a Brooklyn number. Are you still there, Mr Hand?"
"Yes I can hear you - nice to speak again, Mr Hanlon"
"I’m glad you called us. I’ll have to keep this short but there’s a job going in Sydney, Australia. We put you forward and its yours if you still want it."
"Australia?" Mike is lost for words for a moment. "Would there be an interview?"
"It’s "return to sender" terms, I’m afraid. You’d need a work permit and Australian entry visa, which we can streamline for you via the Australian Consulate in Manhattan. My secretary will give you the details. We’ll cover your airfare - but if it doesn’t work out for any reason, you’d be on your own to get back as I explained."
"Of course, understood....but what would the job be, exactly" Mike says now sitting up straight.
There’s some rustling of papers and documents on the line.
"Let’s see.....financing, investments and management....working with some expatriates. Not much to go on, I’m sorry, but the people are highly regarded, well established and trusted friendlies. We’ve had dealings with them before and I think it’s a good match. So do you want this?" Paul says.
"On your recommendation, of course....." says Mike, his mind racing.
"OK great - just stay in touch with our office and we’ll guide you through the steps and get you down there and on the ground ASAP"
Mike catches up with Lucy a day later at a student bar near campus.
"You know I think this is the most normal date we’ve had....." she jokes, looking around.
"Well actually there’s something I need to tell you," Mike his face deadpan.
Mike tells her about the job offer and Lucy takes a deep breath.
"I thought you’d moved on from this?"
"So did I."
"And this doesn’t even sound real - going to the other side of the planet on just the vaguest information?"
"I know"
"But I’m real, Mike. I’m right here."
Mike can see the pain in her face - their eyes lock but he’s the first to look away.
"I was an idiot getting involved with you," Lucy finally says, looking down into her drink.
"Don’t say that - it’s my fault."
"Lets go - I can’t just sit here. I need to walk"
They talk through quiet streets back towards campus halls.
A few days later Lucy enters the austere and spartan Syracuse Walsh Regional station on a grim day and spots Mike standing on an almost deserted Albany-bound platform next to his luggage.
"Wanted to see you off", she says smiling.
"I’m glad you came - didn’t expect to see you here."
"Well I realized something after the other night....."
"That I’m a flake?"
"Well you’re that, " she laughs and then sighs, growing more serious. "I think you’re still in this fight, I can see that now," Lucy says. "A bit like me," shes adds before he can answer.
"Maybe," Mike says after a pause.
"It makes sense, Mike. I mean the whole secrecy thing - this isn’t a job that normal people get. You’ve been deployed. You don’t get to ask questions, you just go."
"Does that make it easier?"
"Nothing about this is easy," she says. "Good luck, Mike Hand."
The two erstwhile lovers hug warmly and Mike steps up into the train carriage. He settles into his seat and looks for Lucy on the platform only to see that she’s already walking away. The train begins to pull out and Mike’s college days are already behind him.