Friday

Friday, May 9, 1980

Amy listened to a fish crow outside her window, a distinctive bird call familiar to anyone living in Sarasota. Tourists called it the uh-uh bird. Sun filtering through inexpensive curtains formed an illusion of lace. She didn’t need an alarm clock today.

She closed her eyes and smiled, thinking about Harry. Friday, ninth of May, she thought.  At long last. I hope he’s not angry with me. What will he say?

Will he be angry, the question like an arrow piercing her excitement? Sitting in the doctor’s office last December, Amy was ready for what he would say. She could hear his deep baritone voice. “Young lady, you’re going to have a baby. But you already knew, didn’t you?”

She cried herself to sleep for weeks, unsure of what to do. The truth was, she had no choices. Now, the precious jewel growing in her overcame guilt she felt about the passionate, fumbling, hurried, first time with Harry.  

She thought about the many times she worked up the courage to tell Harry. Just when she thought she could, he would talk about the Army. By the time she watched him boarding the bus to leave, it was too late. She hoped he thought the tears streaming down her cheeks only reflected sadness at saying goodbye. If that was all it showed, she thought, drying her eyes.

That was all behind her now. Today, her soldier boy, Harry, was coming home.

Ignoring her limp with her since birth, she glided across the kitchen linoleum floor in her fuzzy bunny slippers, mimicking an ice skater. She reached for a pen hanging on a string, thumbtacked to the wall next to a hardware store calendar. Amy drew an X over the number 9. Holding pages back, Amy looked at the squares for each day marked off since March 1, the day Harry boarded the northbound Greyhound bus. It’s going to be a great year, I know it. Everything will be okay, she thought, looking at 1980 printed on the top. With a quick turn of her head, she couldn’t hold back a broad smile

Typical for an early Spring morning in Sarasota, the temperature was a toasty seventy-eight degrees.

Amy reached down, rubbing her belly when she felt a spasm. It added to the happiness she experienced.

Her parent’s reaction didn’t surprise her. What did was the depth of their anger. “I swear I’m going to kill him,” her father roared. Amy hoped he didn’t mean it. Her mother showed her fury by turning away, saying nothing at first. “You’ve shamed our good Christian family.”

Later that night, they ordered her to the kitchen table. Her father did the speaking. “Here’s six months rent money,” handing her an envelope. “By then that good-for-nothing you’ve hooked up with can take responsibility.

Young Amy walked out the door the next morning, her possession in two grocery bags.

Amy confided in Judith, a true friend who stood by her when her parents disowned her, and classmates snickered. “Another dropout loser,” she overheard a teacher say, knocked-up at sixteen.”

“Are you going to tell before he hears it from someone, Amy?” Judith asked her.

“He doesn’t know anyone around here. He lives in Bradenton and works at a garage. I’ve been able to keep it a secret from him … so far. I don’t think he’ll find out.”

“I love you, no matter what happens, Amy. You’ll know when it’s right to tell him.”

“I hope he will be as happy as me,” Amy told Judith. “He’ll be so surprised? Angry? What? I couldn’t put something like this in a letter.”

The baby kicked as if sharing Amy’s apprehension.

Amy looked one last time at Harry’s letter, lying unfolded on the kitchen table, his awkward handwriting making her grin with excitement. She didn’t need to read it. “I have it memorized,” she'd told Judith.”

Flimsy from repeated folding and unfolding, Amy set the letter aside. With a smile, she walked down the outdoor back stairs. Time to go to work

Today, May 9, Amy’s work was cleaning drop-off laundry at the Sarasota Wash ‘N Fold. Finished with other people’s clothing, Amy was almost skipping, despite her limp. It’s only four blocks to the bus depot.

On Friday last, Amy showed Judith pictures of Harry in his uniform and shared her good-bye conversation with Harry.

“He told me he always wanted to be a soldier. It’s the Army, Harry told me. That’s what he was so proud of,” she told Judith. “After eight weeks of basic training, we get leave. I’ll be back home as quick as I can, he said. Then we kissed, and he was gone,” Amy said.

“Judith, I was so mixed up that day. I wondered about telling him this,” stroking her belly. I decided I couldn’t tell him before he left. I wanted to allow him to go with his dream of becoming a soldier. Fatherhood was a discussion for later.”

Judith gave Amy a comforting hug. “You know he loves you so much, Amy, and he’ll be home next week. He’ll be happy when he hears, I’m sure.”

Amy thought about that conversation. Now, it was Friday, the long-awaited day.

Leaving the Wash N’ Fold, the baby — their baby — gave a mighty kick when lightning flashed over her shoulder. The temperature was dropping ahead of a squall line, and Amy pulled her sweater tight and kept walking. No storm would keep her from meeting Harry’s bus.

She hugged herself as she paced the waiting room. Harry told her how he’d saved money for a phone call to share his excitement. “I’ll show off my uniform. I’m holding the ticket as we speak. I’ll be on the early bus. We get into Sarasota at oh eight hundred hours on Friday, May 9. That’s the way we tell the time in the Army.”

Amy checked the schedule board, knowing the exact time it would leave St. Pete, the time of the stopover in Bradenton, then the precise time Amy expected to hear the hiss as the bus came to a halt in Sarasota.

Something came over her, Amy couldn’t tell what. It was as if someone whispered a warning. A sense of foreboding came over Amy like the black clouds outside. Something’s not right, Amy thought. The minute hand on the clock passed by 8 o’clock. Why is the bus late? Oh, Harry, I can’t wait. She watched the minute hand sweep past 8:20 o’clock, then 8:30.

All of a sudden, people around her were murmuring, one man becoming agitated and pounding his hand on the ticket window. A woman’s earsplitting scream caused Amy’s baby to kick, hard.

A man, Amy guessed, was the woman’s husband, held a portable radio, unable to hold back tears. Other’s hearing the radio joined in, sobbing a mournful keening.

Amy’s scream started as a low-pitched moan, coming from deep inside before developing to a fully-grown, shattering howl.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Saturday, May 10, 1980

Yesterday, the unthinkable happened. The freighter MV Summit Venture struck a bridge support on the Sunshine Skyway Bridge during a sudden squall, causing the collapse of the southbound span. It’s reported thirty-five deaths occurred when six cars, a truck, and a Greyhound bus plunged one-hundred and fifty feet into Tampa Bay. There were no survivors from the bus.

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