We All Fall Down: The True Story of the 9/11 Surfer (28 page)

Louise thought about his words as she watched her husband from afar. She saw him there, standing by the pool with the other men, all fully dressed in slacks and dress shoes. He was smiling and laughing, an occurrence that had become all too rare, but there he was with a drink in one hand and a smile on his face, just enjoying some guy talk while Nico passed out cigars.

Pasquale could not see his cousin Ralph sneaking up behind him. Ralph brought his finger to his lips and made a shushing gesture. Pasquale noticed the men looking behind him and turned just as Ralph charged at him, grabbed him around the waist, and shoved him into the pool, clothes and all. The momentum carried Ralph in with him.

“What the hell?!” Pasquale shouted as his head emerged from the water.

“Gotcha, cuz!” Ralph shouted back.

“Oh, you think you’re funny, huh?” Pasquale said as he grabbed his cousin and dunked him under the water. And there they were, like two kids, best friends just horsing around in the pool like they were ten years old again.

The other guys around the pool, Cousin Richie, Bill, Andy, Anthony, Big Tony, and Mauro (who was ultimately responsible for
Song for Hope
being picked up by Tower Records) all laughed, and one by one, they all started shoving each other into the pool, not wanting to miss out on the fun. They either got pushed in or jumped right in, dress shoes, cell phones, watches, wallets, and all.

Louise watched the boyish men splashing in the clear blue, and she could not help but remember the last time she’d stared at the pool so intently. That day had been the lowest of her life, but now, that water she’d thought of submerging herself beneath and letting it swallow her hopelessness—that same water was full of friendship, fun, and frolicking.
Maybe things are finally back to normal
, she thought.
Maybe we can go back to being a happy family…

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Don’t Trust Media!

“Don’t trust the media!”

~ Pasquale Buzzelli

It was 2:00 a.m., and Pasquale found himself sitting in the exact same green-checkered spot he’d been sitting in one year before. The TV was on, but there was no sound coming from it. The only sound that penetrated the absolute silence that surrounded that couch was the occasional sob, emanating from Louise as she sat with her face buried in Pasquale’s chest.

What do I do now?
Louise thought.
How do I just forget everything?

~ ♦ ~

The song was finished. It had been recorded and approved by everyone Louise knew, but now came the question:
What do I do now?
She’d poured her heart and soul into the song, and now that it was finished, she needed to find a next step, so it could really do some good. She had written the song to heal herself, and now she felt a duty to give back to the women who’d inspired her to create those lyrics and that melody.

Mike Martire suggested that they start a foundation dedicated to the widows. Louise loved the idea, and The
Song for Hope
Foundation was born. Every cent of the proceeds from the CD sales would go toward helping the widows who were pregnant on 9/11. They’d even managed to get Tower Records onboard, and they agreed to sell
Song for Hope
in stores, so more proceeds could be generated for the Foundation. Because of all of the media attention Pasquale continued to get, Louise assumed that raising money for the widows would be easy; unfortunately, she was mistaken.

As the one-year anniversary approached, Pasquale was being bombarded with requests to do interviews and rehash his story over and over again. He wished they would leave him alone. He was just tired of repeating it, of having to remember it over and over again, and of answering questions he’d been trying to forget about; it was too painful. Louise was worried that he was internalizing the pain and becoming self-destructive, evidenced by his quick weight gain.

Pasquale’s desire to escape the constant requests to retell his story was at odds with their goals with for The
Song for Hope
Foundation. Louise desired a way to get the word out and needed the media to do that. She was hopeful that the attention Pasquale was still getting would shine a direct light on the song. That, in turn, would raise money for the widows. She found out rather quickly though that those who
could
help her promote the charity had little interest in doing so.

She’d spent the entirety of June and most of July perfecting the song and recording it. In her mind’s eye, she envisioned it serving as a catalyst that would ignite support for the widows. That became her sole focus, even infringing upon her responsibilities as a wife and mother. She loved Hope and Pasquale so much, but the pain she felt for the widows was so pervasive that she could not enjoy having her husband and daughter as much as she should have. She truly hoped that helping those widows would assuage her guilt and allow her to move past it. It was this desire to move on that caused her to push forward with the song, even if it was at the expense of her own marriage.

“Louise, please. I just want to go back to normal,” Pasquale pleaded with her one night in August.

“But, P., how can you say that?” she asked him, stunned that he could not see how important it was for them to help others heal from their own losses. “You are so lucky.
We
are so lucky. Can’t you see that? I have you, and Hope has a father, but what about them? Those people don’t have what we have. We have to help those women because we have been so blessed.”

“Louise, I
know
you want to help them, and of course I do too. It’s just…fuck, I just want things to be normal again. I don’t want to think about this shit anymore. I
can’t
think about it anymore,” he finished, a look of defeat showing not only on his face, but also in the way his shoulders sagged and his head drooped.

“Look, I know you don’t
want
to do this, but I
have
to. I mean…” Louise stopped herself short. She was so passionate about it that she almost crossed a line she would not be able to cross back over again. The truth was, she cared that Pasquale was hurting, but she was angry with him for wanting to give up. No matter what it took, no matter the cost, she was determined to continue in her quest to push the charity, whether Pasquale was on board, or not. “You do what you want, Pasquale, but I am not giving up.”

Pasquale looked at her when she said it, doing his best to disguise how badly her words had hurt him. He knew she was not trying to hurt him, but she just could not stop. “Fine. If that’s what you really want…” Pasquale sighed. “But I am NOT going to keep doing this, Louise. I mean it. I will do whatever interviews you have already set up. I’ll give you one whole day, so line them all up at once—just one day, and that’s it. I will even give you the rest of the week to schedule whatever you want, but after that, I am done. Seriously, I am
done.”
He stood up from the couch and left Louise there, alone, to contemplate his ultimatum.

Louise was angry at first, but not at Pasquale. She knew he had been through more than she could ever fathom. Nevertheless, she just could not give up. She decided she would take the week and set up as much as she could, then figure out a way to stop herself after that. Louise and Pasquale never sought media attention, but they could not escape it. Outside of a phone call Louise made to
PEOPLE Magazine
, every bit of contact they had with any media outlet was initiated by whatever particular reporter wanted to hear Pasquale’s story. Pasquale would have preferred to do no interviews, but he decided he’d do them if The
Song for Hope
Foundation was mentioned, just so he could help raise money for the widows his wife so cared about. If they would not mention the Foundation his wife had worked so hard to establish, Pasquale would not do the interview. Sometimes though, even that caused problems. Sometimes, the only end of that bargain that would be held up would be Pasquale’s.

~ ♦ ~

The week went by quickly, but Louise managed to schedule plenty of press dates for them. Every news outlet, reporter, radio station, and TV channel that wanted Pasquale to rehash 9/11 was told he would do it, as long as they mentioned
Song for Hope
. It was not a happy medium, but it was a compromise Pasquale could handle. He wanted very badly to help those women and to do it for his wife, so if it meant he had to deal with the pain of telling his story, he was willing to make that sacrifice.
Well, at least once this round is over, I can be done with this,
he told himself as a pep talk before each and every trying interview.

Louise was growing more frustrated by the day. Regardless of how worthy and selfless her cause was, the press seemed to have no interest in helping her spread the word. Even with the one bargaining chip she had, her husband’s amazing story, she still found many outlets resistant. “What the hell is wrong with these people?” Louise said to Kathryn one day. “Don’t they know how important it is to help those women?”

“I know. It’s bullshit!” Kathryn said.

Louise knew her indignation was not feigned. Kathryn had adopted the
Song for Hope
cause as her own, and aside from Louise, Kathryn may have been the most passionate person about the Foundation.

“I can’t believe some of these people. Oh, and speaking of
PEOPLE
, did I tell you what happened with the lady from
PEOPLE Magazine
when I contacted them about the Foundation?”

“No, but I’m gonna guess this is not going to be good news,” Kathryn said, the anger already bubbling inside of her. She knew intimately the horrors that those poor survivors had to live with, so whenever she heard stories of people dismissing them, it caused the anger to rise inside of her.

“Okay, so I get through to a lady named Liz McNeal,” Louise began, sitting forward in her seat as if she was ready to pounce on Liz, had she been present. “I told her what we are trying to do and how we have already gotten a good start but that I just know if
PEOPLE
were to help us, we could really start raising a lot of money for those women. I told her
their
magazine inspired the song and the Foundation and that I would really appreciate it if they could mention it in their 9/11 coverage. Do you know what she asked me?”

Kathryn shook her head out of habit, even though she knew the question was rhetorical.

“She asked me, this ‘Liz’ lady…” Louise went on with a fire in her eyes and redness creeping up into her face, “…she asked me, ‘Well, how much money have you managed to raise?’ So I told her, ‘Well, almost $10,000,’ which I know is not much, but I think it’s pretty good start considering we have been doing that all by ourselves, through church and family and friends. You will not believe what she said to that. Do you know what she said?”

“No…what?”

“She said to me ‘
PEOPLE Magazine
features success stories of
people
who have made it. When you raise $50,000 to $100,000, give me a call,’ and then she hung up the phone!”

“Oh my God!” Kathryn exclaimed. “How the hell could someone be so heartless?”

Louise did not have an answer. It made her so angry that even talking about it made her hands shake.

“You know what?” Kathryn said. “We don’t need them! You have a bunch of interviews set up, and I just know when they mention the song, people will buy the CD, Louise. People are going to want to give back to the widows.”
             

~ ♦ ~

A few weeks after the
PEOPLE Magazine
incident, Louise received a phone call from, of all people, Liz McNeal. “Hello, Mrs. Buzzelli. I am calling to see if your husband would mind helping us out with an article we are working on here at
PEOPLE
for the one-year anniversary of 9/11.”

Right away, Louise realized that Liz most likely did not even remember the conversation that had occurred between them weeks earlier. Rather than hanging up on her on the spot, as she was quite tempted to do, Louise decided to at least listen to what she had to say. “What do you need?” Louise asked.

“Well, we are doing a feature called ‘How 9/11 Changed My Life,’ and I thought it would be great if Pasquale could give us a quote!” she said, her voice saccharine sweet this time around, as opposed to the cold, distant tone she’d spoken with before, back when Louise had called asking
her
for a favor.

“Really? You want a quote from Pasquale? Is that all?”

“Well, yes…and no,” Liz said, sounding not unlike a game show host who was getting ready to present Louise with a huge, life-changing prize.

“What else then?” Louise asked, her patience waning.

“Well…”

~ ♦ ~

“Can you believe the balls on that one?!” Louise asked Pasquale over the phone a couple of hours later. “Not only did she want a quote from you, but she had the…the
gall
to ask
me
if I could help
her
get in contact with more widows, even after the way she responded to the Foundation!”