A Woman's Story Trivia Quiz

Answer: New York City, January 1, 2000

I had lived in New Jersey for ten years. I grew up in rural Georgia. The first Peach Drop in Atlanta in 1989 was my last year there. I moved to the Garden State ostensibly to start a new job but really to escape the spectre of a too-long relationship with a ultimately bad partner.

Rick lived in the same NJ town. He grew up there but we had never met until we both signed up to a local dating agency. No dating apps in those days. The 1999 New Year's Eve trip to New York City was our first date. Rick had never seen the Ball Drop even though he'd lived less than 35 miles from the City all his life. We thought mistakenly it was the start of the new millennium, but at least it felt like a new beginning for us. Maybe that was the giddy headiness of a first date. Rick was charming, polite and funny. I was giggly-shy but watchful. It was our only Times Square Ball Drop and it was a lovely night.

Answer: Dirty Dancing

Boy, we did a lot in those two weeks. We met for coffee nearly every day in Edison, New Jersey where we both lived. We went to an off-Broadway play in the City and a retro-viewing of "Dirty Dancing" in Greenwich Village. We had both seen the movie before and loved it. Rick insisted I call him Johnny. That's when he started calling me Baby.

He could certainly dance - he had all the right moves and because of that movie he suggested our first weekend away should be in the Catskills Mountains in upstate New York where the movie was set.

He even bought a watermelon but he did not make me carry it! It was a magical weekend. Long walks and lake-swimming in the daytime with lovely dinners and dancing to swing music in the evenings. I fell in love that weekend, this time without reservation.

Answer: A sandwich and a cocktail in Greenwich Village

Rick had a really important job. He was a medical administrator at JFK Medical Foundation in Edison. Hours were long, sometimes dates had to be postponed because he couldn't get away from work. My work was more regular. I ran a bookshop in the township. I loved it, books were my world, but it wasn't challenging. I enrolled in the local campus of Rutgers and was chasing a Masters in English Literature which really was challenging.

When Rick couldn't get away from work, I immersed myself in my studies. One night he arrived unannounced at my apartment, still in his work suit though his tie was crooked and his shirt tail was flapping.

He suggested we drive into the city to get a late night supper at a place we could dance. Staying out till 3am on a work night was unheard of, and I paid a price that next day at work but I did not care, I loved Rick and just wanted to be with him at any and every time.

The first time we did this we found a Cuban place in Greenwich Village that had great sandwiches, divine cocktails and great music for Latin dancing.

It became our "go-to" place when Rick couldn't get away from work until late, which happened a lot. Too much, I remembered later.

Answer: A positive pregnancy test

I never dreamt I could be pregnant. After the ectopic ten years ago I was told it would be very difficult for me to conceive again. Difficult but not impossible apparently (Hah!). I was too embarrassed to go to my doctor so I bought a pregnancy stick with shaking hands from a pharmacist too young to give me advice. He did anyway. "One line means the test has worked properly, two lines means you have hCG in your urine. The body produces hCG only when you're pregnant". At least he had the grace to sound non-judgemental. How could something as beautiful as conceiving a child be reduced to inserting a plastic stick into a jar of urine? Seeing the two lines evoked clashing emotions: The joy of bringing a new baby into the world and the black fear of an uncertain future - while Rick and I were obviously happy together, we had not discussed a future other than what we were doing in the next few days.

The phone stayed ominously quiet; a silent witness to my fear turning to the cold cloak of dread. Where was Rick? His phone went straight to voice mail. In desperation I rang him at the hospital - I didn't have his direct number, he had never given it to me - so I rang the generic number but without a direct extension number the operator refused to put me through. I even used a phone directory (Yes, they were still used then) and found his home number; it went to message but it was a female voice. What? I looked at the phone for the next message - it came in two weeks later. That's when I started to wake up.

Answer: Border between England and Scotland

The lack of response was devastating. My so-called man was doing a runner. Rick, who had rarely been outside the New York Tri-State area, a person who refused to go see Fallingwater with me near Pittsburgh because it was "too far for this urbanophile" suddenly packs up and decides to visit one of the remotest parts of England because of its historical significance in the "building of a great nation" C'mon. I would rather have him be truthful and say that he wants no part of this. I feared doing this alone, now I welcome it. Better off without him. I don't curse much - feel guilty afterwards - but that day I called him all the filthy names under the sun with hedonistic abandonment and with no traces of guilt - ever.

Answer: Nearly 4 kilograms

Of course I no longer heard from Rick, I tried (but failed) to erase him from my mind. I worked right up until Rikki-Lee was born. Fortunately the elderly owners of the book store wanted to retire in Florida three years ago and generously offered me the store for not much more than the value of the stock.

It seemed a big move then, for me getting a loan to cover the purchase but I had almost paid that off and I was lucky enough to have three college students who were flexible enough to cover the busy times and my medical appointments. To help when Rikki-Lee was born my folks relocated from Athens Georgia to nearby Cliffwood Beach and I sold my apartment for a modest house in South Amboy between my folks and the bookstore.

In the hospital after Rikki Lee was born I sent Rick a text out of obligation rather than anything else.

He in turn sent a cheque and information about regular payments into my bank account to help cover costs. I was surprised but not proud enough to say no. I did not suggest a visit. I left that to him, expectations near zero.

Answer: A stick with a horse's head which is ridden like a horse by the child

The toys arrived by courier, no note but a photo of Rick and me in the Catskills, all smiles and sunglasses and summer skirts with a hand on my head holding my hat on. Presumably the photo was to give to Ricki-Lee at some point but I put it with my photos of Rick and spent too much time looking at them, hard tangible evidence of a lovely relationship in the days before digital cameras and phones. I pushed the shoe box hastily under my bed and went to Rikki-Lee's crib where she reached up to me, beaming. I pushed the toys into the back of a cupboard telling myself she would be old enough for them for another two years but a small part of me was thinking that Rick should not have spent so much money.

Answer: Opal

Rick turned up out of the blue one day. No warning. I was in a different house but he found me. I let him in, manners overriding any objections about his presence. He went over to Rikki-Lee and picked her up as if he had just come home from work for the day. She was nonplussed but did not cry. He suggested a walk over the bridge for ice cream at Fajj's across the bridge in Perth Amboy. Still shocked I agreed and dug the stroller out from the trunk of my car. On the walk where he assumed he could push Rikki-Lee's stroller, he told me how he gave up his job ("too much work, not enough life" he said making me think I was not enough "life" for him) took time off work to go to England and Scotland to walk Hadrian's Wall. He went to London, did the museums, then went to Australia where he had a cousin. They went to the outback, climbed Uluru and fossicked for opals in Coober Pedy. No mention of the time bomb he left behind, or any enquiry into my well-being. He fed ice cream to Rikki-Lee and made faces. She giggled, far too young to realize the pain he'd caused.

This happened a few times. Ice cream turned into coffee dates, where my parents were pleased to look after the little one but were barely civil to Rick who endured their stony looks with mumbles of "I don't blame them". A few dates followed, tentative at first, reluctant to be hurt a second time, but in time I relaxed a fair bit but not completely. It was dark one evening. I was walking Rick to his car. We had had a lovely day at Coney Island with Ricki-Lee. Lots of laughter and fun. It almost felt like the Catskills again. He gave me a hug and quick kiss on the lips, then climbed into his jeep and sped away before waiting for an answer. I was bewildered. What just happened? Did he just say it casually and quickly so he could say I had misheard if I said "No"? What if I said yes, how I was supposed to tell him? We never made plans to meet again, perhaps a legacy of what happened. I looked at the package he had pressed into my hand as he was getting into his car. It was a tiny gift box wrapped with a red ribbon. Inside was a ring, a black opal with a tiger's eye gleam of yellow slightly offset. There were a trio of small diamonds cradling one end. He meant it. I tried it on making a bargain with myself that if it did not fit I would say "No". Of course it did fit perfectly. I went back into the house and sat down in Rikki-Lee's room close enough to pat her as she slept off her big day. I had no plans about when I would see him next. I picked up the phone and sent him a text...

Answer: Jewish

We were married soon after despite my parents' protestations. In the end they stopped complaining when the wedding happened. They had the good grace to welcome Rick into the family. My sister came from Florida, Rick's brother came from Montana where he was a park ranger (His folks had died many years ago).

There were a dozen close friends and the three students from my bookstore. It was a magical day. Rick sold his house and we moved into bigger one still in South Amboy. When he returned from Australia, Rick found health administration work through an agency and he commuted to Mid-town each day.

The salary was not as good as his first job but even with the commute his hours away from home were fewer. Rikki-Lee adored him, and, somewhat reluctantly I admitted to myself, so did I.

The tough times just before Rikki-Lee was born were (almost) forgotten. My father fell for Rick's charms and they went to see the Mets play in the season opener. My mother held out for a bit longer but she too fell for his easy charisma and told me "I had done well". My bookstore was not doing so well. Something called Amazon was taking some of my business but I was confident this was just a phase and sales would return to normal soon. Life was simple but good. Our private joke was our love of Jewish food. Neither of us were Jewish. Rick was a failed Catholic, I was a non-practising Baptist, yet we both loved all Jewish food. I had asked Rick to buy that food from our favourite Deli on East Houston Street.

It was a long way from where he worked on 36th Street, but he never minded the subway trip downtown to buy the food. I had a special reason for him buying our treat food. I had taken another stick-urine pregnancy test and it was joy not trepidation this time when it turned positive. I planned to tell Rick over dinner.

Answer: Tuesday 9.30am

Now I remember why I stopped using this phone. Tuesday September 11 started as unremarkable: Rick had left earlier than normal as he had a meeting Downtown before returning to his office in Midtown. Tuesday was my workday, after I dropped Rikki-Lee at her beloved grandparents' place early as we had our Fall Sale on this week.

When I got to the store, Jasmin, my part-timer majoring in Political Science at nearby DeVry, had the in-store TV on CNN, way too loud but we didn't open for another 45 minutes at nine o'clock. Jasmin went out to get coffee for both of us when she saw me come in. I tried to get work done so we could have five minutes to drink our coffee together before opening.

It was just after ten to nine when I saw Jasmin cross the street with a coffee tray. I went to turn down the TV when I saw the shot of the North Tower of the World Trade Centre on fire. I was transfixed and horrified. Rick had a meeting at the WTC that morning but I did't know which one. What if he was there? "Don't worry," said Jasmin "Rick told me when he dropped in here earlier this morning his meeting was in the South Tower. (I remembered this years later - why did Rick have to go to my bookshop that morning?) We watched the CNN coverage, watching it unfold. I tried to call Rick but it went straight to message - he always turned it off when he had a meeting. Passers-by could see the TV from the street and they came in to watch, not interested in the book sale.

Then my world turned upside down: We saw the second plane hit the South Tower, live. Cold, black dread pumped out of my chest and sank into my feet. I tried desperately to remember what floor Rick's meeting was on but I don't think he told me. I shook my phone willing it to turn Rick's phone on 25 miles away. I fired off a text, swiping tears away so I could type, and alternately looked at the TV The phone rang while I was typing. It was my parents ringing me, worried. I shooed them off the phone in case Rick called back. I vaguely remember pats and hugs and Jasmin chasing people out the store then hanging the "Closed now. Please come back tomorrow" sign on the locked door. She held my hand so tightly when the phone beeped I had to shake it off to read the text. It was Rick - relief, sheer heart-lifting relief. It was if I was in the room with him. He was OK. I looked at the time of the message. It came in at 9.30. I looked up at the TV and saw the South Tower of the World Trade Center collapse and felt my whole world collapse at the very same moment.