Free Out of Such Darkness by Robert Ronsson

of escaping was to have been ill or late as he was. ‘Can you let me know if you hear that anyone else has survived, Tony?’
    ‘I have your number, Jay, and I’ll make that call, with pleasure. Do you think there’s a way we can get a list of employees?’
    ‘I’ll talk with the other partners’ relatives today and see if there are any papers in their homes.’
    ‘That would be good, Mr Halprin. We have you and your company logged. Thank you for calling.’
    In the hiatus that follows, Jay senses the man swallowing the automatic final words he always hears as,
‘Have an iced A’
. A long time will pass before anybody says them again.
     
    Jay decides to take a walk to work out what’s going on in his head. He has to make some sense of it before making the two calls he’s dreading. Rachel asks if she can join him. He weighs up what’s more important, clarifying how a fictional character has set up home in his brain or staying on the right side of Rachel.
    Don’t even think about me. We can get cosy any time. Go with Rachel.
    They turn left in front of the house, following Ponds Lane away from Route 22. Ignoring the entry to the park, they walk on through the Ponds estate of mock-colonial houses with their porches and dormers. There’s a gap on their right, through which they can see the lake with bulrushes on the margins. Small birds cling on with claws encircling the stems and their bodies whip as the rushes swirl. The breeze picks at the birds’ feathers with a violinist’s pizzicato touch.
    Jay and Rachel turn into the park at its farthest entry from the house. The ozone freshness of clear-running water has the effect of de-fogging Jay’s mind. The sun is high over a row of poplar trees and he looks across expecting to see a pillar of smoke or dust. But there’s no sign of what they now call Ground Zero.
    The MC’s voice is scolding:
Don’t go looking for torture. The dread will come to you at a time of its choosing.
    Rachel reaches for his hand and entwines her fingers in his. ‘You know what you were saying about whether I think about us being Jewish? Well, if you need something like that …’
    ‘I know. You said.’
    She snaps back immediately, her voice encouraging, upbeat. ‘You know that place we’ve been to on a Sunday – the beach where we had to pay.’
    ‘In Greenwich?’
    ‘That’s it, Greenwich Point Park. Well, at the pool one time, the girls told me how it’s free to get in after Labor Day. Do you remember we could see Manhattan from the beach there? The Empire State Building and … well, we could see the Twin Towers.’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Perhaps … I thought … you and I could go there this afternoon. Maybe take a wreath and float it out on the water. You know, for the people at the firm.’
    The MC is skipping and clapping his fingertips under his chin.
A wreath for the people at the firm! Wreaths are good. I like wreaths.
    Jay presses his forefingers against his temples as if he can bore through the hollows to relieve the pressure.
    ‘I know it’s a terrible Americanism, this thing they call “closure” but it could help. Quite honestly, doing anything, however futile …’
    There is no ‘closure’ for you, Jay, actually. You survived. Rachel believes that ‘saying goodbye’ will bring you to a conclusion? I don’t hear the fat lady singing.
    Involuntarily, Jay nods at the logic of the MC’s words. But he’s aware of Rachel’s tone of voice and persuaded by her concern. He takes her hand. ‘It’s a good idea, Rache’. She moves his hand to her waist. They finish the walk joined at the hip.
     
    ‘Hello? Is this Mrs DuCheyne?’
    ‘I shall ask her if she wants to take the call. Whom shall I say is calling?’
    ‘It’s Jay Halprin. I’m her husband’s English business partner.’
    ‘I shall tell her.’ Jay hears footsteps click-clacking on marble followed by two sets of heels sounding in unison accompanied by muffled conversation. Somebody lifts the