The Day his Motor Died - 8. Chapter 8

The mess that was Michael, was unable to dial Doug’s cell phone number, so Barry did it for him. Michael heard a very frantic Doug yell, “Michael, Michael. It’s horrible.”

“I know honey,” Michael started to say, but he started to cry, and could say no more. Barry took the phone from him.

“Listen, Doug,” Barry said. “Your apartment is virtually around the corner from The World Trade Center. You may not be able to get home. Until we know what’s what, come here. You and Michael can use the spare bedroom.”

“I’ll have to walk, but I should get there in about forty-five minutes. The streets are in chaos.”

“As long as you get here.”

George came home before Doug arrived. He grabbed Michael in a bear hug.

“Thank God,” he said.

“I didn’t believe in God this morning, but I sure do now.”

The phone rang. George answered it. He listened and without saying a word he hung up.

“I’m glad you’re a believer now,” George said. “That was a pre-recorded message. There’s going to be a memorial service at MCC, the gay church, this evening. Barry and I attend regularly. Do you think you and Doug would like to join us?”

“Positively.”

More than an hour passed and Doug had still not arrived. Michael began to fear the worst again. He pictured Doug caught up in the midst of rioting crowds. He was just about to call him again, when there was a knock on the door. Barry ran to open it.

Doug came bounding in. He saw Michael and ran to him. The two men embraced tightly and wouldn’t let go of each other. They were both sobbing. Barry gave them plenty of time, and finally announced, “Look guys, I don’t own a crowbar so you better separate before I have to douse you with water.”

“Has anybody had lunch?” George asked.

Everybody shook their heads.

“I’ll make us something,” he said.

“Nothing for me,” Doug said. “I have no appetite.”

Everyone else said that they weren’t hungry.

“Did you call your folks?” Michael asked Doug.

“Yes. They sounded certifiably insane, but I calmed them down.”

“Good,” Michael said. I’ve called my folks also.

Michael and Doug stayed the night. They all attended the memorial service at MCC that evening, and none of the four of them got much sleep. Their hearts were too heavy with grief.

Early in the morning, Michael called New York Transit. The trains were running up to a point several streets from their apartment. They decided to get on home to see what was doing.

******

Marty and Lois were approaching the border at Buffalo, NY with the intention of picking up The New York State Thruway there. They stopped at a service area on The Queen Elizabeth Highway, and had a light breakfast. They called Ivy to make sure she was all right and didn’t need anything. Then Marty decided to try to call any member of his crew. Frankly, he had low expectations that they were still alive. Of course, his first call was to Doug.

******

Michael and Doug left the subway at the last station which was still operating. They were walking to what they hoped would be a home. Michael held Doug’s hand tightly. He didn’t care who saw him. They were both so apprehensive that they jumped when Doug’s cell phone rang. He looked at the screen. It was Marty.

“Marty,” Doug yelled. “I’ve been trying to reach you.”

“There was no cell phone reception where we were.”

Suddenly, Marty realized that Doug had answered the phone, and that he was alive. He started to sob.

“Doug, Dougie,” he cried, “I never thought I’d ever hear your voice again. Thank God, you’re alive. What about the rest of the crew?”

Doug was crying also. It was difficult for him to answer, but he managed to say, “I haven’t been able to reach any of them. I’m not very optimistic.”

“How did you get out?”

“I wasn’t in the building. I had an early morning appointment with Nate Berger. Do you realize how lucky we both are?”

“Of course, I do, but there’s not much of a business left. Doug, will you help me rebuild. We’ll have to find a new location.”

“Listen Boss. You can count on me. We’ll do whatever it takes, and we’ll do it together.”

“Thanks, Dougie. I have to leave now. We’ll be home late tonight. I’ll call you in the morning.”

Marty didn’t realize that he had called Doug, Dougie. It was a term of endearment, and subconsciously, Marty considered Doug to be the son he never had.

On the other hand, Doug was fully aware that Marty had called him by his childhood nickname, and he knew exactly how Marty felt about him.

******

Michael and Doug paused in front of their apartment building. It was covered with soot and ash, but it was intact and standing erect. They noted a few broken windows. Besides that, there didn’t seem to be any other damage. They gave a sigh of relief that the elevator was still operating.

That morning, Michael had left the apartment after Doug. He debated leaving the windows open for some much-needed fresh air. It was very pleasant out, but he decided to keep the windows closed. This time of year, the afternoon temperatures could still rise into the high eighties.

Michael had made a smart decision. The windows were covered with soot and ash, but none were broken. The apartment itself was as clean as when they left that morning. They went from room to room to assess the damage.

Doug’s parents had given them several porcelain figurines as a commitment gift. They were displayed on a living room end table. Somehow, they had fallen to the floor and shattered.

“It must have been like an earthquake in here,” Michael surmised.

“The landlord’s going to have to hire a window cleaner,” Doug noted. “We’re very lucky,” he added.

“Yes, we are. I didn’t shower at George and Barry’s. All that ash we just walked through has really made me feel dirty. Also, I’m very tired. I didn’t sleep much last night. Let’s take a shower and go to bed.”

“Good idea. There’s not much to do, or that we can do.”

They usually played in the shower, and when they went to bed, they wrapped each other up and fondled one another. This day, they did not play in the shower, and as soon as they got into bed, they were sound asleep on opposite sides of the bed.

******

After 9/11, many businesses deserted Manhattan, and moved to another borough or to nearby suburbs. Ergo, there was plenty of office space available at much reduced rental costs.

Marty and Doug found suitable space in mid-town Manhattan in the same building as Michael’s firm.

“This is so great,” Michael said. “We’ll be able to have lunch together.”

“Yes, we can,” Doug agreed, “but you’ll have to put up with Marty, and listen to him call me Dougie. He won’t leave me alone. It’s like he’s afraid he’ll lose me too. I expect to add him to our family dinner list in the very near future.”

“Talk about job security,” Michael joked.

It cost a small fortune furnishing the office, buying computers and all the other office equipment, but fortunately Marty had the funds. They hired two more associates, at least, until they got going. Both these men had survived 9/11, but their offices were demolished, and their bosses were not likely to continue their businesses. Many people applied for the job, but Marty hired these two men because they had survived. It was as if the survivors had formed some invisible bond.

The world was different after 9/11, and Michael and Doug adapted to never ending mid-east wars, and burgeoning electronic products. Foreign cars dominated the streets and highways of America.

Marty’s business boomed with constantly new and improved electronic imports from Asia. Marty did indeed treat Doug like a son, and he made him a partner.

The stock market never stopped spiraling upward from the 9/11 low, and Michael was a vital link in the growth of his company. Joe promoted him to junior partner status.

One day, in the year 2006, they were enjoying dinner, when out of the blue, Doug said to Michael, “I think we should have a baby. I think we’d be great fathers.”