Trying to erase from my memory the sounds of yesterday.
Filling the stairwell of my apartment building, a woman cried “DON’T DIE ON ME I NEED YOU OH NO!”
Catherine’s father died.
Fire trucks and ambulances appeared outside my window. Noticing this I was alarmed to see a stream of firefighters and medics file in to this building. I opened the front door of my apartment to see a grim parade of uniformed young men headed upstairs. Their lack of urgency seemed to betray the fact that none thought they were on a rescue mission.
Catherine yelled “YOU CAN’T BE DEAD IS HE DEAD?”
One of the medics perfunctorily assured her “We’re working on him.”
Her screams were gut-wrenching to hear. They filled this building and wafted into the street outside. She was not dying but it felt like she was, as if her screams were his. I remembered my own reactions when, standing on this very spot, I took word that my father had shot himself through the head. Catherine, though we hardly know each other, had been so kind to me in talking about that.
Ten minutes later I looked out the window again and saw Catherine standing in front of the building, her face raped by tears, turning around aimlessly, joking about her (and her dad’s) illegally parked car. “Look at that! Our car is there! Haha!”
The body lies in state until a detective arrives to investigate and rule out foul play. Natural deaths receive lowest priority over murders and suspicious circumstances. Sometimes the family, with nowhere else to go, stares at the corpse for hours until blood and pus burst from their father’s eyes. A police officer acquaintance of mine (who explained all this to me) described cleaning blood from a body’s face and eyes so a daughter could give her father a good-bye kiss before the detectives arrived and took the body away.
I looked out the window and saw the stream of firefighters and medics who had recently entered the building proceed to get back into their vehicles. I expected to see the body taken out, but the ambulances drove away empty. I remembered then that these first responders likely left the body in place for others to evaluate. To be honest this made me a little uncomfortable, and I left this building for a while.
It seemed like something should have stopped, but nothing did. Looking out the window I saw the man across the street getting ready to go to work as a limo driver. A man I’ve spoken with but whose name I do not know walked past hurriedly, as is usual for him. The hum of yellow cabs and other traffic resumed after the firemen re-opened the street. It was nice to think that at the very least a city street would be shut in recognition of one’s passage. Catherine left from the building to stay with family somewhere else. As soon as quiet returned to this building I heard people coming home, talking and laughing in the hallways, unaware of the earlier events.
Looking out the window today I think I saw a detective come through this building, taking pictures and seeming to gather facts from the owner of this property. Or maybe not. Maybe the old man’s body lies there now, exploding.
