The Crying Woman

I don’t get too many opportunities to brag about this so here it is: I got the highest score to get into my paramedic class. The competition was fierce because they hadn’t held a class in over six years. FDNY had just merged with EMS and they felt it was a worthwhile endeavour to start the training program up again.

So I went into the first FDNY paramedic class. The class consisted of several former BLS (EMT) instructors from our Bureau of Training, along with EMTs representing all areas of the service from every borough, communications and operatains. We also had some lieutenants and a captain.

Not long after school started and study groups were being formed two former Marines announced that they would be running around Fort Totten before class and were hoping others would join them. Feeling the need to brush up on my repetoire of filthy military cadences I joined them.

We met in the parking lot by our building and took a beautiful tour around the historic grounds. Fort Totten was built in 1892.*more about ft totten, civil war * In the early hours of the morning, just after the sun comes up, its almost like stepping back in time running past abandoned barracks, officers quarters and other interesting structures that were part of army life back in the early 20th century and forward. Its a stunning place now run by the Parks Department. Many of the buildings have been restored and are used by outlets of other city agencies.

When made our way back to the parking lot everyone but me would indulge in a post work out cigarette. After a brief time talking about the day ahead or gossiping about various union situations or classmates we’d go in and get cleaned up.

At that hour the building was mostly empty and sometimes we would have to wait for one of the instructors to show up to let us in. It’s an oddly designed building consisting of long maze-like corridors that open up into larger areas. We utilized the downstairs bathrooms which were the only ones that had locker rooms and showers. They were considered to be in the basement where the corridors leading to storage areas and the lunch room. As the only female of the running group I had the whole place to myself. Most of the students didn’t take a locker and the classrooms were on the second and third floors which had their own bathrooms.

One morning after the crisp morning air had sufficiently opened up their lungs to better enjoy their smoke the break topic evolved to the rumor that, Erica, one of the prettiest students in our class, was having relationship issues. The rigors of paramedic school are notorious for causing domestic strife so it was only a matter of times before someone entered the dating pool again as a result of the intensive nine month course. How did our friend discover the news?

“I saw her being consoled by Kara. She was offering Erica a place to stay and told her she’d help her move out.” one of the runners said.

It was certainly a tasty snippet of gossip. “Oooh,” I remarked, “Points to Kara for jumping right in to fill the void right away.”

The men all looked incredulous and surprised, as if I had taken away their cigarettes. “What?” I asked. “Erica is into women. You guys really didn’t know?”

Defeated, my running partners lamented their imaginary loss. “That’s too bad.” said Roy, acting as if there would have been an actual possibility even if she weren’t a lesbian. “I would have been first in line.”

It became apparent to the rest of the class that the rumors were true as Erica spent long bathroom breaks returning with red puffy eyes. We all tried to give her space and many of us turned our attention to Kara to see what her game plan was. It provided some momentary distraction from the bombardment of drug charts, medical scenarios, and mathematical calculations.

One morning as I was in the shower after running I heard some sounds nearby. I was getting used to this room being my own personal spa zone so it peaked my interest a little. As I turned the water off I could make out the sobbing cries of a woman. I knew it must be Erica, as she sometimes found respite in this bathroom down here recently for privacy reasons. This one was far away from our classroom, much bigger, and since I took a lot of time scrubbing it down, smelled like my lavender cleaning products. She must have been aware of my presence but since she didn’t say anything I did my best to avoid her by staying hidden in the little changing area where I got dressed anyway. I flattered myself thinking that she trusted me enough not to be one of the many pushy, nosey people who flocked to her now. She seemed to be getting more and more uncomfortable with the overwhelming abundance of shoulders to lean on and probably just wanted to be alone to work things out in her head. I know that’s what I wanted when I was in similar situations.

I didn’t have to extend my time putting on my uniform as she left long before I was finished. When I went upstairs to our classroom I found her reading on of our textbooks and acting casually. She gave me a slight nod and a smile as I walked in. No worries, Erica, I won’t be smothering you like some of the others.

There were two or three other times in the upcoming weeks when I’d hear her crying during my post work-out ritual. I started to wonder if I should come out and offer my condolences but decided against it. She never brought it up and seemed to like to pretend nothing happened afterwards. I felt that we seem to have developed a routine and I wasn’t going to change it.

I didn’t hear the door slam when she left but one day I did. I was later than usual and almost time for class to start. I made a run for the door quickly afterwards. When I got on the side the only other person I saw was Roy, who was holding open the door to the men’s room. Their door was directly across from my door and he was waiting for the others. He smiles and waved at me and I smiled and waved back.

“You’re running a little late aren’t you?” he asked. “You’re usually upstairs by now while I’m usually trying to move these guys along.”

I told him I had waited for Erica to leave, making a sympathetic face. Roy looked at me with confusion. I told her how sometimes she had been coming down here when I was taking my shower and how I had heard her crying. I explained how I liked to leave her alone with her thoughts. Roy continued to stare at me with his facial expression changing to studious and intrigued but he still didn’t say anything. “What?” I asked. “Didn’t you see her just leave?”

He shook his head. “Erica left the class a few days ago, remember? She had dropped out so she could take care of her mother in Pennsylvania when she had the stroke.” I suddenly remembered that she had left the class. With all the field rotations we had been doing it was difficult to keep track of people’s schedules. I had some of my own distractions at the time and hadn’t kept up on the updates to the Erica story. The poor girl, I thought. Now her mother’s health problems on top of everything else. How much would she have to bear?

I turned to Roy and gave him a suspicious look. “How did you find out about her mother?” He didn’t seem to be part of the information loop that involved the other cliques in our class.

“I offered to help her move.” he said sheepishly with a smile.

I laughed, shaking my head while the other men came out of the locker room. “He still thinks he can get her to think of him as something other than a kindly old man.” one of them said. Roy was older than most of the class and thinking about him creeping about with pretty young girls was more comical than disturbing, thankfully.

Most of the time when I arrived in the Bureau of Training parking lot I was one of the first ones there. The next day, however, Roy was there before me and he jumped out of his car when I got there. He looked at me very seriously when he said “I’d like to hear more about the crying in the locker room. You definitely heard a woman crying?”

“Yes.” I answered. I admit I had been trying to figure out who else had been using my personal spa as a hideout.

“You know this place is haunted.” he told me.

I had heard it said before that Fort Totten was haunted. Though I was open to the idea that there were strange things that we didn’t understand I tended to try and debunk every example. People always say old places are haunted. I figured that Fort Totten used the notoriety to sell ghost tours around Halloween.

“Did you hear crying too?” I asked.

“No,” he said. “But I saw doors open and close by themselves. There’s no breeze in that basement.” He asked me to tell him all about my experiences hearing the crying woman so I told him when and where it happened. He went through some of the dates I had narrowed down and told me that Erica had been on rotations for at least one, probably two, of those days. He was sure I heard a ghost.

“I didn’t realize you were such a stalker.” I noted.

“I’m just interested in the paranormal.” he told me.

“I was talking about your familiarity with Erica’s schedule.”

“Well she is a pretty girl…” he pointed out. “Anyway, I can tell you most of the time, outside of our little run club and that one lieutenant who gets here early to open the building, there’s no one else here. I get finished in the locker room quickly and while these guys are using their fancy hair gels and smelly after shaves I go to my car and put my dirty clothes in my truck. The parking lot is empty except for us, until about ten minutes before the day starts over here. But don’t believe me. Ask around. Everyone that works here has a story. You’ll see.”

Without mentioning my experience I did casually inquire with people that spend a lot of time in the building. I asked my former instructor classmates, current instructors, and one of the maintenance men. Not one of them thought the place wasn’t haunted. Each person I asked had felt strange feelings, heard sounds or experienced strange sighting. One man smelled tobacco and heard it being spit out. “Disgusting dip…” he told me, more bothered by chewing tobacco than a ghost presence. Everyone seemed to just accept that they shared the facility with some apparitions and no one seemed to be particularly frightened, at least not anymore, after they got used to it.

I heard the crying at least two more times. Despite telling myself that if I heard it again I would investigate it, I stayed frozen in my little changing area. At first, I’ll admit, there was an initial fear. I did try to discern what the noise could be if it wasn’t crying but I really couldn’t come up with any other explanations. Roy was right about there not being much airflow to to the basement. The pipes were old but the sound was completely different than anything they would produce, I felt. It was very distinctively female crying. But even when my supposed rational mind kicked in I decided to keep the unwritten agreement I had with who I thought was Erica. She probably wanted her privacy and I was happy to give it to her.