We All Fall Down: The True Story of the 9/11 Surfer (24 page)

With these punishing thoughts racing through his head, he did finally manage to pull his tired frame off of the couch, but before he went in to lie with Louise, he stopped to look at Hope.
She is so, so beautiful. Look at her! Look at MY baby girl. God, I love her...but why can’t I feel close to her like I want to? Why do I feel so numb about everything when I am not feeling angry or thinking about punching those cowards in their faces until they are a pulp? God...just please, God, I know
I don’t normally pray for myself, and I said I would only ask you to keep my family safe.
I know I shouldn’t be asking you for anything else after you...after I...after everything that happened. But please...help me to get past this. Help me to connect with my daughter in the way I want to—to be the father I should, the father and husband my girls deserve...

~ ♦ ~

Pasquale stood before the elevator, dressed in a navy suit and a dark red tie, carrying a briefcase. Though he didn’t know why, he felt quite content that morning, so much so that he could not stop himself from whistling as he waited. He heard a
ding,
and the doors slid open to invite him inside. He looked around at the men sorrounding him and thought he recognized them, though he was not sure. He was struck by how tall they all were, and he found it hard to make out their faces. He smiled at them, but they did not smile back at him; rather, they started laughing. That should have made Pasquale feel more comfortable, but it had the opposite effect. There was no joy in the way they laughed, as if it those chuckles were nothing more than a sound they made, without any meaning attached to it or humor or happiness behind it. As they cackled mirthlessly, Pasquale noticed their oddly shaped teeth; they seemed more like daggers, long, shiny, and sharp. He started to feel threatened, so he brought his briefcase up to his chest, squeezing it tight just in case.

The elevator bell made another dutiful
ding
, and the men around him began filing out. He watched them as they seemingly glided across the floor, their long tan robes lightly brushing the floor behind them, and he noticed he could not see their hands because the sleeves of their tan shirts, which hung down past their fingertips. Though the men showed no outward signs of being aggressive, he felt there was definitely something amiss about them, something wrong with them. He could almost feel them wishing harm on him and the people he loved. He was not proud of his eagerness to retreat, but he wanted to get away from those men very badly.
Why won’t this damn elevator close?

Pasquale stood, transfixed, and watched as the tall men with the funny teeth walked toward two shorter men, both of whom had their backs turned. While he did not know why or how, Pasquale had the sense that the short men were different; they were like him, while the tall men wanted to harm them. He heard the tallest of the robed men call out to the shorter two, but he could not understand the words he was using. The two men turned around to face the tall men, and Pasquale could just make out their faces. He dropped his briefcase and tried to call out to them. Though Pasquale kept calling for them,but the ones he took as his friends did not seem to be able to hear him.

The robed man closest to him turned to face Pasquale. Pasquale was confused because the man’s face was so blurry that he could make out nothing but the man’s dark brown eyes. Pasquale felt panic overcome him as he looked into those eyes; they were cold, almost dead looking, like a shark’s in a feeding frenzy, as if there was nothing behind them. The robed man leered at Pasquale for a moment before raising his hand. He pointed one finger at Pasquale, then slowly raised it to his neck and made a slashing motion. Pasquale’s eyes went wide, and the man brought his finger to his mouth and said “Shhhh...”

Suddenly, the elevator doors slammed shut, and everything went dark. Pasquale could see nothing, but he felt the sickening sensation that he was falling—that everything had just crumbled out from under him.
Oh God! Not again! Please, God!
He began feeling very hot and could feel the walls pressing in around him. He closed his eyes tight and thought,
This is it. This time, I am going to die. Shit! It’s...it’s happenening again!

Pasquale awoke, drenched in sweat and twisted up in the sheets of his bed. He felt around him, and his hand, desperate to cling to anything real, found Louise. He breathed a sigh of relief before dragging himself out of bed for yet another day hampered by the fog of sleep deprivation and lingering nightmares.

~ ♦ ~

Things had not slowed down for the Buzzellis since they’d brought Hope home, and it seemed that the moment they returned home from the hospital they were back to dealing with unfortunate obligations from the aftermath 9/11. No matter how hard Pasquale tried to escape it, to move on and get past it, it seemed he was constantly pulled back into reliving it, most often by people he had never even met. Fortunately, there were a few things he was happy to do, such as the day he was able to meet the firemen who were responsible for pulling him from the burning rubble of Ground Zero.

Kathryn had put together a press conference, to be held at FDNY Rescue 5 Staten Island, on Clove Road, on November 30, 2001, just twelve days after little Hope Buzzelli had come into the world.
[4]
It would bring Pasquale and his rescuers together for the first time since the day of the attacks. They would be reunited in front of the press. Of course that was not the ideal scenario for everyone, but they still felt it was important enough to meet, so they ignored the indignity of doing it in front of a bunch of cameras and media.

The presence of the media made Pasquale uneasy as well. He did not feel he had done anything special and did not want to be deified for surviving, but the chance to personally thank the men who’d risked their own lives to save his was far too appealing to pass up, in spite of the press interrogations and the nonstop recording and flashing of cameras. Louise was also a bit unhappy with the timing of everything, as she was still quite sore from giving birth just a couple of weeks before, but she felt strongly enough that the meeting should take place that she ignored her own physical pain—just as Pasquale ignored his inner aching.

Just before they left to meet Pasquale’s rescuers, Louise gave her husband one last hug, “Are you sure you can do this, P.?”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. Are
you
okay?” Pasquale asked.

“God, yes! I cannot wait to meet them and just thank them…maybe give them a hug or invite them over for dinner or something.” Louise could hardly contain the emotions that were bouncing around inside of her. She was happy, excited, nervous, hyper, tired, and even a bit apprehensive all at once. She was worried about how Pasquale would handle the emotions that would come with the meeting, but not even that worry could put a damper on her enthusiasm. Once and for all, she would be able to express her gratitude to the men who’d help to spare her from what she thought was certain to be her fate: a lifetime of mourning the man who completed her. “Oh…do you have the gifts for the firemen?” she asked.

“Yeah. You put them in those fancy bags, right?”

Louise smiled at Pasquale’s lack of knowledge of all things cute and decorative. “Yes, that’s them. I think that’s everything. Your mother should be here any minute. I’m so glad Mama Buzzelli is coming.”

“Yeah, I know. She’s always such a big help,” Pasquale said.

“I know. I wouldn’t miss this for the world…but I’m still so sore. Thank God she’ll be able to help with Hope and everything. Anyway, you ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Pasquale said as he reached down to pick his baby up out of her crib. “All right, Hope. Let’s get Nonna and go meet the firemen!”

~ ♦ ~

Kathryn waited, hoping everything would go according to plan. When she’d initially set up the press conference, she’d expected it would be a tearful greeting followed by lots of hugs and well-wishes, but now she was not so sure. When Kathryn had first found Pasquale, she’d thought it would be a healing moment for Michael. She had been sure he’d be thrilled.

“You did what?” Michael asked when Kathryn told him the news—that she’d found the many they’d pulled from the rubble. “
Why
would you do that?
Why
would you go looking for him?”

“Are you serious?” she asked, dumbfounded and already feeling the heat rush to her cheeks. “Why do you think I did it, so you could share an ice cream cone? I did it so you could meet the guy you helped save!”

“I never asked you to do that, Kath—”

“You don’t
want
to meet his wife and his newborn daughter?”

“It’s not that, and you know it.”

“Maybe I don’t know it,” she said, tears starting to fill her eyes. “Maybe I have no idea what is going on in your head. Why don’t you want to meet Pasquale and his family?”

“It’s not that I don’t
want
to meet them. It’s just…” He searched around for the right words to describe what he felt. “Look, we didn’t save him so he would thank us. I don’t do my job for gratitude.”

“Michael, I never said you—”

“What kind of message do you think this will send?” he asked, cutting her off. Without waiting for an answer he went on. “A lot of good men and women died that day. I should have, but somehow, for some reason, I did not. I don’t want a bunch of people thinking I am special for doing my job, because what the hell does that imply about the men and women who risked their asses just like I did and were not lucky enough to find somebody alive? What does that imply about the men and women and the kids who weren’t lucky enough to get out? I mean, really, we thought we’d find hundreds, if not thousands of people. We found one. One, Kath! I am so happy we found him, and it’s great that he’s around to be with his wife and his new baby, but there were so many we did not find, and I don’t want to disrespect them.”

“Jesus, Michael. This man just wants to meet you and just shake your hand. That doesn’t mean anything bad about anyone else. All it means is that this guy is very thankful to be alive, and he knows you and the others who pulled him out of that hell are a big reason why. No one wants to disrespect any of those who died. He just wants to say thanks, and you know what? I think it will be good for the guys, good to remind you all why you went through such hell. Whether you’ll admit it or not, whether you ask for it or not, you guys need to be reminded that what you went through was not in vain. You saved this man’s life, and he deserves the chance to thank you all!”

Eventually, after letting it settle in, Michael felt sure enough that there was nothing disrespectful about the meeting and agreed to be there. Nevertheless, his initial reaction sparked some apprehension in Kathryn, and she couldn’t help worrying something might go wrong, something that might ruin what was meant to be a joyful occasion. As she thought about that, she saw the Buzzellis arrive. One look at that man—the man her boyfriend had helped to pull from the wreckage—his beautiful wife, their adorable baby, and the mother who still had her son, and all those negative thoughts were pushed from her mind.

~ ♦ ~

Pasquale, Louise, Hope, and Antonia were supposed to arrive at 11:00 a.m. but got there early, so they circled the block. When they came back around Pasquale’s jaw dropped. “Holy crap! Do you see that?” he asked rhetorically.

Lining the street was a sea of reporters and news cameras. He tried to spot the firemen through the throng, but he could not. As the car approached, the scoop-hungry crowd turned, and cameras started flashing away, film rolling and reporters talking into their microphones.

“Oh my God!” Louise said in awe. She shook her head and turned to Pasquale. “Are you ready for this?”

He shook his head but reached for the door handle anyway. If he was going to have to deal with the downside of the reaction to his survival even on a day of thanks, he would have to do it quickly, hoping to endure as little pain as possible. Like the blinding flash of those countless cameras, though, it all blasted him at once.
What do I do now? What could possibly be enough?
He knew the answer:
Nothing
. Nothing he ever did would be enough, but he settled on a smile to mask his torment.

They made their way through the hordes of media and into the firehouse. Inside, Pasquale spotted his rescuers almost immediately. He did not even know their names, but he remembered their faces and their voices so vividly.

“That’s him! Pasquale!” the youngest-looking of the firemen exclaimed, extending his hand and laughing. “Pasquale, my name is Mike Morabito!” Mike shook Pasquale’s hand, then pulled him into a big hug. Mike had a boyish look to him, fresh-faced, with the kind of smile that made Pasquale feel welcome immediately.

After they released their brotherly embrace, the remainder of the heroes, the firefighters, surrounded Pasquale and introduced themselves. Michael Lyons patted Pasquale on the back and greeted him in his thick Irish brogue, and Jimmy Keisling, whose handlebar mustache fit his biker personality, positively glowed as he hugged Pasquale.

John Drury, the tallest of them all, greeted Pasquale last. “Now, where’re that wife and daughter of yours?” he asked jovially.