Millie's Memory

Millie’s Memory

I pushed myself up from the recliner and slid soundlessly between Roger’s family, who were all standing in my sunroom, watching the television news coverage. I was right to assume they wouldn’t notice me. They never do. But I wanted to be sure to slip out undetected anyway. If they had any hint that I was leaving, they would have tried to stop me. I wasn’t in the mood for an argument.

I went to my bedroom and dressed in a skirt and sweater but when I glanced out the bedroom window, the sun’s glare made me squint. It looked warm and inviting outside, despite what was unfolding a few blocks away. I opened the window, felt the warm breeze and decided I should probably wear a short sleeve blouse instead. I changed, but as I left the room, indecision washed over me and I turned back to grab my sweater. I had no idea how long I’d be gone and might appreciate the warmth of the sweater after the sun went down.

I tiptoed to the front door but before I could slip through an unexpected and unwelcomed idea popped into my head. My children were still in school. Would the school send them home early? Would they keep them until someone came to get them? I decide a phone call to the school was warranted so I snuck back to my room to use the phone in private. I picked up the receiver but couldn’t remember the telephone number. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing my brain to recall the numbers. This was a trick I was using more and more lately with varying rates of success. It worked and the school’s phone number floated in the blackness before my closed eyes. I quickly dialed but the call wouldn’t connect through the static. Then I remembered the reporters had been saying all morning that phone service was spotty.

I hung up. If the children returned home, my husband’s family would be around to greet them, get them a snack and start them on their homework. Hopefully, they would have the good sense to keep the children away from the horrid images on the television.

I crept to the front door again. I ventured one last glance into the sunroom where Roger’s cousins remained transfixed on the ghastly images on the television. I mentally sighed. Roger’s family had become permanent houseguests. Every time I asked when they would be leaving, no one would give me a straight answer. I closed the front door quietly behind me, praying no one heard me leave.
I couldn’t understand why my husband’s family wasn’t racing to the scene of the tragedy themselves. Many of them had medical training. I hadn’t used my nursing skills since the children were born but I could still be useful. I still had something to contribute on such a horrific day.

I wasn’t surprised by my husband’s family unwillingness to help. They could be quite difficult to get along with which is why I hadn’t told them I was heading to the disaster zone. They probably would have tried to stop me. At the very least, they would have argued with me and they would have undoubtedly won, as always.

I treaded along, using the smoky plume rising into the bright blue sky as a guide. The acrid smell of jet fuel stung my nose. I coughed from the thickness of the air.

A group of people in white coats and scrubs ran past me, rounding the corner heading toward the pier. I followed them, certain they were heading toward victims who needed help.

As I approached the pier, I saw hundreds of people shuffling around. Some looked lost and shaken, others frantically searched for people they knew or pounded the buttons on their cellphones, willing them to connect with their loved ones.

I approached a woman in a doctor’s coat and said, “Excuse me.”

“Yes?” the doctor said, looking up from a clipboard as her hair fell from the clip she used to hold it back. Her cheeks were flushed and she was sweating.

“I’d like to help. I’m a trained nurse. It’s been a while since I worked because I’ve been raising my young children but I’m sure there is something I can do,” I explained.

“A nurse?” the doctor asked, the surrounding chaos etched on her face. “Ok, um, I’m not sure exactly what we need at this point. What’s your name?”

“Millicent. My friends call me Millie,” I answered.

“Millie, wouldn’t you rather be with your family today? This isn’t really a time to be in the city,” the doctor said.

“I would much rather be here. My husband’s family has taken over my house and I don’t feel at home there anymore. My children are safe at school. I want to be useful here,” I pleaded, fearful of being turned away.

“Alright then. Could you take this pad of paper and pen and start writing down people’s names? That will help us keep straight who we treat and help family members locate displaced loved ones,” the doctor explained.

“You want me to write down names? I certainly can do that but I do have medical training,” I insisted. I was disappointed. I hadn’t really come all this way just to take down names.

“Honestly, collecting names is really important. People ask if I’ve seen their mother, their brother, their son and I don’t know because I don’t have a list of names. Amid the chaos, they are hard to keep track of,” the doctor said. Tears welled in her eyes and I saw panic loom just below her surface.

My heart softened. I took the pen and paper from her. “Well, if that’s what needs to be done, then that’s what I’ll do. I just want to do something useful,” I said, trying to smile through my disappointment.

The doctor nodded and said, “Thank you.”

I looked across the growing throng of people who were taking shelter in the makeshift triage center along the pier. Their sheer number overwhelmed me and I didn’t know where to start. I decided to just jump in with both feet. I took a seat on a bench next to the first person I saw. It was a man in a rumpled business suit, holding a set of broken eyeglasses, with blood on his shirt.

“Hello, what’s your name?” I asked, readying my pen to write down whatever information I gathered.

The man on the bench didn’t move. He gave no acknowledgement that he’d heard me, so I repeated myself. Finally, the man looked up.

“Huh? What?” he said, looking dazed and lost.

“I’m collecting people’s names to help out,” I replied. When it appeared that he still didn’t understand me, I laid my hand gently on his forearm. He looked so confused. “Why don’t you tell me your name so I can help you get back home?”

“My name is William, um, William Parks,” he stuttered, looking at me as if his name was the least important thing in the world at that moment.

“Ok, William -“ I started.

“Actually, people call me Bill,” he interrupted.

“Well, that’s nice. My name is Millicent but people call me Millie,” I said, flashing my biggest reassuring smile. It was the same smile I gave the children when they were scared or hurt. “Bill, are you hurt? You have blood on your shirt?”

Bill flinched, looked down and appeared startled at the red smears on his clean white shirt.

“I don’t think it’s mine. I’m fine. I – I don’t know where – I don’t know who it came from,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief.

“I’m glad you’re not hurt, Bill,” I said, “Are you able to get yourself home today? Do you need me to find someone for you?” I actually had no idea how I would help Bill find someone in all the chaos, but I thought just offering was a nice gesture.

“No, I can get home. I live across the river. I’m just waiting for some available space on one of the water taxis. I just want to go home and hug my kids,” Bill replied.

“Children are such a gift,” I said, though sadness crept over me as I said it. I couldn’t locate the source of my sadness but it squeezed my heart anyway. I patted Bill’s hand then stood to move on to the next person. The need to end the conversation overweighed my desire to help Bill.

“Thanks for your concern, Millie,” Bill said, with a warm and genuine smile.

“Of course,” I replied, perking up. The compliment from Bill sent me away with a grin.

For the next five hours, I walked around helping others, taking down names, comforting those who were scared and, in a few cases, providing basic medical care for scratches and sprains.

As the sun set and temperatures dropped, I patted myself on the back for my decision to bring the sweater. I realized that the children were probably home from school and I hoped my husband’s family was taking care of them. I couldn’t bring myself to go home though. I felt more useful where I was. A lot of people from the Towers had left to make their way home but many others had arrived at the pier looking for loved ones. The list of names I had collected had become extremely important. It took a while to look through it since names weren’t in any particular order but when I found the name of someone being sought, it made my heart soar. It was rare to find someone’s name which made it even more special when I actually did.

Just before 7:00 p.m., while I was comforting a father who couldn’t find his daughter’s name on my list, a woman in mauve scrubs came rushing at me. I thought she looked familiar but couldn’t quite place her. She didn’t look like someone I would be happy to see though.

“Millie,” the woman in scrubs shouted, “Thank goodness I found you. We have been looking for you all day! I’m so glad you are safe. Come with me now. We need to get you home.” The woman wrapped her arm around my shoulder and tried to pull me along.

“What are you doing?” I yelled, trying to pull away.

“Sweetie, I’m taking you home,” the woman replied.

“No, I don’t want to go with you. I’m helping here,” I insisted, frightened by this woman’s familiarity with me and the idea that she wanted me to leave with her.

The doctor who had put me in charge of collecting names rushed over.

“Millie, is something wrong?” she asked, looking wearily at the woman trying to kidnap me.

“This woman is trying to take me against my will,” I cried.

“Millie, it’s me! Beverly!” the woman said.

Beverly seemed familiar but I that didn’t make me willing to go anywhere with her. My heart pounded and I was sure everyone would notice my trembling hands. I started to cry.

The doctor guided me to a nearby bench and handed me a bottle of water. When I had calmed down, she turned her attention back to the woman in the scrubs.

“Can you explain what’s going on?” the doctor asked.

“My name is Beverly. I am a registered nurse and I work at Park Glen assisted living facility. Millie resides there with us,” Beverly explained. My heart sank as reality settled upon me.

“She told me she lived with her husband’s family,” the doctor said.

Beverly lowered her voice to a hushed whisper, “She has some trouble with her memory. She thinks all the orderlies, the nurses, even the doctors are her husband’s family. She thinks her children are still young and at school every day. Her husband has been gone for many years now, along with much of his family. Her children are grown, with families of their own and they are spread across the country. They rarely visit. We’re all she has now.”

I could Beverly despite her attempts to whisper. I remembered exactly who she was. I didn’t want to go back to Park Glen. It wasn’t a bad place but I felt useless there. No one ever wanted me to help with anything. No one needed me. My children called only when they had time, when their own lives didn’t consume them. It was a lonely existence. It was as if I was just waiting around for the end.
I had felt important and useful collecting names down at the pier. I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay and be helpful.

The doctor turned to me as I sat with my head hung low, clutching my bottle of water tightly.

“Millie,” she said, “Beverly wants to take you home now. They’ve been really worried about you.”

I nodded my head slowly, knowing it was useless to argue. The doctor sat on the bench next to me.

“Millie, I would like to visit you in a few days. Would that be okay? I’ll come for tea,” the doctor offered.

I was thrilled. It had been so long since I’d had any visitors. “Oh, I would really enjoy that. Would you do that?” Millie asked.

“I certainly will. I promise,” the doctor replied with a smile. “But I think you should go back with Beverly now. You’ve done so much good work, Millie. You’ve really helped a lot people. You’ve made a huge difference here. Thank you.”

I felt a smile burst across my face as I took Beverly’s hand. Though my feet shuffled on the walk home and my aching legs were ready to collapse from exhaustion, I felt like I was walking on air.