I extended a hand to help her up.

“Yes, we are. The others?”

“Everyone got out. You were the last.”

“And you came back for me,” she said, taking my hand.

“I was in the neighborhood,” I remarked offhandedly.

Sister Ann slowly got up, with my help. She put an arm around my waist, leaning heavily on me for support.

“Not that I’m ungrateful, but it was a foolish thing to do.”

“I won’t ever do it again,” I promised.

We started carefully making our way through the scattered building pieces littering the side street.

“Why?” she asked. “Why come back for me?”

“To prove Aunt Greta wrong,” I said, not even knowing I was going to say it until I did. “Besides,” I hastily covered, “us promiscuous dykes need all the help we can get, to get into heaven.”

“But you have, you know. At least on the outside.”

I didn’t think she was talking about getting to heaven.

We slowly picked a path down the far sidewalk, covered and cracked as it was with the detritus of the building.

“The outside?”

“Outside yourself. I think you’re the only person left to convince,” she answered.

“Except for Aunt Greta, Bayard…”

“The only one that matters,” Sister Ann said quietly.

I didn’t reply, just a bare nod of my head.

The main avenue was crowded, people jockeying for the best view of the destruction. I heard sirens in the distance. The TV cameras were madly filming away. One lone policeman was trying to string up a barricade between the crowd and the remains of the building. I couldn’t spot anyone from the clinic. For a moment I panicked, afraid they hadn’t made it. They’re okay. You saw them leave, I told myself.

I could see a group of nuns through the crowd, their blue habits singling them out. I pushed through the onlookers, taking Sister Ann to them.

“Sister!” one of them exclaimed and about three or four nuns relieved me of Sister Ann.

“I’ll talk to you later,” were her parting words.

I nodded and went in search of my friends.

The crowd shifted and I spotted Cordelia, surrounded by Elly and Millie. She was back on the building side of the avenue.

As I got closer, I realized that Millie and Elly were holding Cordelia, almost as if struggling with her.

“There’s nothing you can do,” I heard Elly said.

“Except get yourself killed, too,” Millie added.

Bernie? I thought wildly, then I noticed her down the road, leaning into an oak tree and crying.

What the hell? Who?

Millie saw me. And looked like she had seen a ghost.

Me?

“Micky!” she screamed. “She’s alive!”

“Hi, ladies,” I said nonchalantly.

“Micky,” Cordelia said, wheeling around to look at me.

Then her arms were around me, holding me very tightly, picking me up off the ground.

“Thank God you’re alive,” she whispered in my ear.

“Hey, Bernie,” I heard Elly call. “Micky’s okay.”

“Sorry about your building,” I told Cordelia.

“The hell with my building. I’m so glad you’re all right,” she replied, putting me down, but still holding me tightly. “You have blood on your back,” she said suddenly, letting go of me and gently turning me around to look at me back.

“Matching shoulder wounds,” I said as she pulled up my jacket and T-shirt to examine my cut. “Careful, I’m not wearing a bra.”

Elly put her arms around me, low enough to keep out of Cordelia’s way.

“I hate it when you’re right. About bombs,” she said.

“Yeah, me too,” I agreed.

Millie squeezed my hand and brushed some of the dust out of my hair.

“You’ll live,” Cordelia said, finishing her examination of my back. Her voice broke.