My glove concealed hand gripped the door handle and tugged it towards me. It was even harder with the tenacious wind that opposed me. I entered the cramped building and infiltrated the circle; it was almost furtive. I take my seat and prepare myself.
The leader starts the meeting, “Thank you all for coming today. Each and every one of you have achieved something great in being able to get here today, so well done. Seriously, well done.”
I scan the faces of the diverse group as the leader deciphers through his thin pile of notes. I see so much hope in this group, so much potential. The woman, with sublime cheekbones that is positioned northward, looks alien to the group. I pray I don’t look the same.
“September 11th last year was a day that, to this day, is sending shockwaves throughout America and the world. Thousands of people had their lives altered that day and within them thousands are the 13 of you.”
His words flow so naturally, he is conducting the situation with aplomb. It really aids to make this whole experience easy, when it truly should be really ominous.
“A ritual to these meetings is to let newcomers, if they are feeling confident, to share their story with us.”
It is my time, I think. He gesticulates to me with his quiet hands and I begin:
“Hi everyone my name is Christine and I lost my husband. He was in the North Tower when it collapsed, he was a firefighter.” I take a moment, to remember what Momma taught me when speaking in front of a circle – take your time and speak from the heart. She nailed it into me. The nail, that now, you could run your hand over and wouldn’t even notice it was there. Masked from those who wish to caress.
“I knew when I saw the news reports, that he would be there, all of them would be. He was the most benevolent and valiant man you could have ever met, all of those on his crew even said so. He and two others in his crew died that day. Those that survived said he was first to go in – I thought to myself, amidst the agony, that’s my Pete.”
An improbable tear plummets onto my linen lap.
“I’m sorry, I’m such-” I start.
“Christine please do not apologise,” the leader intervenes.
I nod apologetically and continue, “The hardest part for me is now balancing my work and the kids as a single parent. Like I know there are millions of people who are single parents but, I think it’s the fact the transition was so sudden you know? Like one day he was there, he was the most amazing dad and now he is just gone. I know it is such a cliché but, it just doesn’t seem real.”
I look around at the faces, all of them captivated and sorrowful.
“But I think this group is going to really help me with this. I am so pleased I found you all. It is so helpful to have someone to talk to. Thank you so much.” I conclude. I exhale sharply – the hardship is over.
We hear some other attendees’ stories about how their lives were remoulded by the attacks of 11th September.
When the meeting closes, I make my way to the drinks table that is perpetually present. I always find them to be very rewarding.
“I am so sorry for what you’re going through,” says a delicate voice, as I plunge a cheap teabag into boiling water.
I twist my head, hankering to put a face to this supportive voice. It is Helen, she worked in The World Trade Centre, in the north tower. Luckily for her she was on her way out for lunch when the plane crashed and managed to get away unscathed.
She grabs a serviette and scrolls a number onto it.
“If you ever want to talk or meet for a coffee outside of the group, don’t hesitate to give me a call,” Helen says as she hands me the serviette.
“Thanks Helen, I really appreciate it,” I reply with a smile.
I bring my polystyrene cup to the bin at the end of the table. I spoon out the teabag. It lands in the bin with flop. I look up to see a notice board congested with advertisements. One grabs my attention.
‘Victims of rape support group, every Wednesday at 7pm.’
I retrieve my phone from my coat pocket. I go to the calendar app and add ‘rape club’ for Wednesday at 7.
I look down back at the auxiliary events that I have attended this week.
Cancer. Depression. Domestic violence. And 9/11 victims obviously.
I have done well. I have acquired a friend in each. A grin appears on my face.
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