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"Can I take another donut?" Sue's voice came
down from the ceiling followed by a sprinkling of fine
sugar.
"How long have you been there?"
"Since 'some girl gave my fucking car away'. I've
been following him. It's kind of fun."
James carefully watched the box of donuts and saw one
of them vanish before his eyes.
"So that was you?"
She chuckled. "Yep. A customer came in with a
receipt, my boss told me to give him the Porsche, and
I did. I'm free and clear. Just for once it wasn't my
fault."
"And so you're still employed?"
"Ah. No. They said I scratched too many fenders."
She paused. "Look out. I'll be up here if you need
me."
She must have had sharp hearing for James heard nothing,
but a few moments later Kath and Hamlet returned. Kath
was in a decisive mood, determined not to be unhappy.
"I am going shopping," she announced. "Want
to come?"
"When there's a perfectly good bar next door?
Are you kidding? Anyway, you can't go shopping, you
don't have any money now."
"Don't need money," she replied, defiantly.
"I got credit cards."
"Hamlet sank into his favorite chair and rubbed
his eyes. Man, this sucks. See what you get for working
for a pervert?" He reached a weary hand towards
the donuts and then paused, inspecting the box carefully.
He cast one weather eye upwards, said "hmm"
quietly to himself, and then sat back and munched thoughtfully.
James stayed cool, though he was intrigued by Hamlet's
reaction and wondered what had provoked it. "So
what are you going to do?"
Hamlet swallowed. "Beer's always good."
In the bar James sipped his way through two beers but
it seemed strange to drink so early in the day and the
alcohol had a greater effect than usual. When a familiar
voice whispered "Want to get a hamburger?"
he was grateful. He swapped commiserations and email
addresses, said goodbyes, and excused himself.
They took a train downtown, close to the site where
the towers had stood, and found a branch of McDonalds
with, of all things, a piano on a platform above the
door. An old man was playing jazz and show tunes. James
watched for a moment. Today nothing could surprise him.
"So what happens next?" asked Sue.
The question had been lurking in the back of James'
mind for some time. He shook his head, slowly.
"I honestly don't know. Now the dot com frenzy
is over there aren't many jobs. I was lucky to stay
employed so long. We can survive on Debs' income but
it won't be easy. And if I don't get severance?"
They both fell silent, James thinking gloomily of his
future, Sue thinking of other things entirely. She was
regularly drawn to Ground Zero, mainly from feelings
of guilt. She needed to let them go but she simply could
not. On that sunny morning in September she found herself,
of all places, in a Boeing on a runway in Atlanta when
the news spread that something had happened in Manhattan.
She was attending a conference, a rare reason to leave
the city.
The cabin doors were sealed but the plane was stationary.
If she could have gotten herself out somehow, she might
just have made it back to the city. It was a long way
to fly, and there wasn't much time, but she would have
tried. She might have saved one or two people somehow.
Instead she sat still, frustrated and heartbroken but
entirely certain that she would be in very serious trouble
if she did anything to attract attention. It was the
one occasion when her gifts might have made a real difference
and she was unable to use them.
She looked over at the pianist. At least he seemed
happy. "If I can make it here," he sang, "I'll
make it anywhere?"
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