Free Among the Dead by Michael Tolkin Page A

therefore acting the part of the mourner, or was she secretly, even from her unsophisticated self, relieved about the death, and already counting the money from the insurance settlement? But I cannot cry, thought Frank. This hurt him, that he couldn’t find a grief large enough to extinguish the world, that the mundane distractions of life were still so close, so much a part of the moment.
    How much money would this be worth? he wondered. Frank was insured for $2 million, Anna for $1 million. Because he was worth more to the marriage. What will the airline pay? How quickly will the money come? They’ll want to settle, of course, avoid the lawyers, that has to happen soon. Someone will approach me and say something about how difficult it is to think about insurance at a time like this, but lawsuits can take years, and the lawyers claima third, and this is what we’ve settled for in the past, and this is what this kind of crash has traditionally brought, and wouldn’t you rather get over the tragedy and get on with your life, knowing that you’ll never have to go to court and face the story all over again?
    And it all depends on fault.
    If the wing fell apart because of bad maintenance, how much? Ten million? A wife and a child. A wife and a child. Think about that.
    And will there be a funeral? Will I have to go to a funeral with all these strangers? People I don’t know?
    And how do I claim the bodies? Will there be bodies? An explosion. They could have been launched into the air as the plane broke up in the sky, and when they hit the ground, or a roof, or a tree, what happened? Does the body keep its shape?
    And if they stayed in the plane, strapped to their seats, and there was a fire when they hit, what would remain? Drop a melon from a few feet, a mess of seeds, flesh and rind. A body from four miles? Does the body maintain its integrity falling from twenty-eight thousand feet? Thirty-two feet per second per second. Thirty-five pounds, and 122 pounds. The body is made of mostly water. Water balloons filled with blood and bone. And the fire on the ground. And houses. Someone told him, he’d forgotten who said it, that sixty people died on the ground. I am a part of the news.
    There was a television, and people were watching it. A squad of airline executives was in the room now, taking down names, making phone calls to relatives, arranging for rooms at a nearby hotel for anyone who wanted them.
    A man with a large belly came to ask him questions. He looked like a drinker and a fisherman, something about his confidence, he knew he wasn’t ever going to be rich, or running the company, and he knew he had as much sense as any executive, but it didn’t gall him. Frank wondered if he had ever been twenty-seven and unhappy. His unhappiness would have come only from immediate dramas in the family, he wasn’t a man to change jobs, or even think of anything like a career.
    â€˜Mr Gale?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜Bill Modell.’ He said it Moh-
dell
, the way he would before he told people over the phone how to spell it. ‘I’m with Customer Service. I’ve been asked to pitch in and help out with this, and they’d like me to ask a few questions, if you don’t mind.’
    He smiled at the end of each sentence. This annoyed Frank, but he didn’t want to say anything, although he thought that the event had given him sanction to say anything to anyone today.
    How can I use it? he wondered. So much money. A rich widower in Los Angeles.
    â€˜How can I help you?’ asked Frank.
    Modell sighed. Frank thought that this was a man with genuine emotions. ‘It’s important, as we put this all together, to know as much as we can about every aspect of the crash.’
    â€˜What do you want to ask me?’ Frank was losing patience, he had hoped that Modell would have presented a way to manage grief, but he was floundering.
    â€˜Do you know what your wife and