Words Like Locusts Flew From Her Fingers

What Were You Doing That Day?

I was in the library at George Mason University, studying Digital Electronics or Computer Science with my classmate, Kalpana. I got a call on my cell phone from my mother and, in an almost hysterical voice, she asked me, “Do you know what’s happening in the world!? Somebody flew a jet into the World Trade Center tower in New York! Or maybe it was two jets! They’re not sure! It’s all confused!”

I thought it was probably just a horrible accident of some kind. But I figured I’d go to an authoritative source and check it out so I wandered around the library looking for a functioning ethernet plug for my laptop. When I finally got connected to the Washington Post web site it was a mess–not at all their usual format. They’d done a rush job of putting up a big photo of the first first jet slamming into the tower. The huge explosion. The second tower had been hit, too. It appeared to have been intentional, they said.

I took my computer back to where I’d been sitting with Kalpana to show her the picture. This is really serious, I told her. They’re saying there’s been some kind of big explosion at the Pentagon, too. I think we might be under attack. Oddly, Kalpana seemed uninterested. She kept studying. I’ve always wondered about that. Why did she seem so unconcerned? Is it a cultural thing? Was it because most of her family lived in another country? Maybe it was just a part of her individual personality.

The library was weirdly quiet. It turned out that most people already knew about the attacks and were downstairs in the student center watching the televisions. After about an hour, they announced over the campus-wide speaker system that classes were cancelled for the rest of the day.

It was so strange walking out to my car in the school parking lot. Most of the people had apparently already left but the ones I saw were all so quiet. It was so quiet outside. I listened to the radio while I was driving home. Other drivers must have been doing the same. Everyone drove slowly–carefully–shocked expressions on their faces.

At that time, in the early afternoon, it was looking like at least ten thousand people had been killed in the attacks. We didn’t know if it was over. We didn’t know where the next attack might occur but we were told that only military air traffic was allowed. Occasionally a military helicopter would go over our house or I could hear–up high–the sound of a military jet. Living near Washington DC, we felt particularly vulnerable. Would they attack the universities, too? Or just the government buildings?

I couldn’t tear myself away from the television. The images were horrible. The explosions. The fires. People jumping from the windows. Yes, they showed that, too. I wanted to cry for the thousands of people who were dead and dying but I couldn’t. It was just too big.

It was difficult going to sleep that night. I felt safer knowing the military was patrolling the airspace around DC but there was no way of knowing whether it was really all over.

The next day I had to take my cat, Roy, in for scheduled surgery. He had been losing weight and had a suspicious lump on his side. I’d told the vet that if it looked like cancer and if it couldn’t be removed, it would be better if Roy didn’t wake up.

Well, that’s how it turned out.

My good cat, Roy, died the day after the attacks.