Read the full story, chapter by chapter here.
Some names and events have been changed to protect the identity of certain individuals.
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Chapter Twenty-Six
The World Seems Different Now
Chapter Twenty-Six
The World Seems Different Now
Summer so quickly came to an end and though we had our rough moments here and there, Matt and I were still holding on, claws dug into our relationship as we tried to keep it together. My depression often got the better of me, and due to a botched birth control start up, my body was reacting to an overflow of hormones and my mental stability was having a hard time adjusting. This fact lead to plenty of emotional outbursts that were not understood by myself, or Matt.
Another thing pulling us apart was the fact that his parents had decided to pull him out of high school so he could finish his last two years doing a home program, something they had done with his brother several years earlier. Not only was our relationship struggling, but now I wasn't even going to be able to see him everyday.
The last youth Church dance of the summer came along and we went, both in a stressed mind. I don't remember what the fight was about. But it was brutal. We'd been pushed to the edge and neither was willing to back down on our opinions. I ran out of the building in tears, kicking my way to a large wall where I huffed and puffed and tried to compose myself well enough to go back inside. Humility was not one of my strengths.
A young blonde girl approached me with little understanding of personal space. She took a seat next to me on the wall, introduced herself once and then went on talking as though we'd known each other a lifetime over. Her name was Audra and she was a year or so younger than me. Easy to talk to, I vented to her the situation I was in and she listened, and somehow got me to stop crying, calm down and go back inside. The painful hole left in my life from the missing friendship of Megaera was suddenly filled once again, and pieces of me started coming back.
I apologised to Matt for my outburst and like always, we kissed and made up. Despite school starting in a week, I passed along home school papers to Paula, and she agreed to read them if I agreed to give my Junior year of high school a try. The school had changed so much. Going from street clothes to a strict, nearly uniform, policy caused a lot of rebellion. During a computer class, three school guards came in and one by one we each had to stand up and have the colors of our shirts compared to fabric swatches, the circumference of our pant legs measured and several other detailed tests to make sure that we had lost all individuality. Forty minutes later, class was almost over. Even the teachers were being beaten down by the new codes. We'd all lost whatever passion we had for knowledge.
I stepped into the guidance counselor's office one day, voicing my opinions.
"You may be surprised, but I actually want to learn while I'm here. I can't do that if my classes are being taken over by the fashion brigade."
"I understand that you might want to wear your normal clothes, but these are the policies." The counselor didn't understand.
"No, I could care less about the uniforms. I'd rather they were school issued, that way you'd all know that the dress code was being followed and we could just get on with class. I took my electives because I really want to learn them. You people are tossing aside the value of an education in exchange for surface appearance and publicity."
I knew very well that my school had been all over the papers. The cleanest school in the state. Best football field, most up to date buildings and technology, and of course, the most properly dressed students. Walmart had sections set aside in their store just for the students. Stores were making money hand over fist and parents were dishing out hundreds of dollars, sometimes repeatedly as the school was not specific enough in the description of allowed clothing.
"Look, this is the way the school is now. You don't really have any other choice in the matter," the counselor informed me.
"Actually I do."
I started home schooling that week.
After a long night working at the restaurant, I came home and spent another hour or so on the phone with Matt before finally falling asleep, telephone against my ear. Sound dreams helped me relax, though my feet ached and pulsed from standing on them all day.
After attending early morning seminary as usual, I had come home and worked on a test I had to send in to the correspondence school so I could move on to my final few weeks of high school, soon to graduate almost a year early. After that I walked to work for the lunch shift and then came home for a nap, though I spent most of it in front of the television watching a recorded VHS tape of a few episodes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. When it was time to return to work after picking up a second shift, I cringed as I put my shoes back on and scrambled to find my apron.
Stressed about finishing school and my continually declining relationship with Matt, I was glad to come home, hear his voice and for once, not fight about something. The last thing I recall saying was that I had the following day off and I was going to skip seminary so I could finally have a chance to sleep in. I planned to sleep until noon if I could get away with it.
"Jessica, wake up!" Paula shouted as she burst through my bedroom door.
Vision blurred and all other senses momentarily in a haze, I could hear the muffled sounds of my television in the background. I rolled over, facing the wall that my twin bed pressed up against. I arched my head to the side and glanced at the purple digital clock resting by my bedside.
"It's not even seven!" I whined. "Do you know what time I got to sleep?" I shoved my face into the pillow while Paula remained silent behind me, remote control stuck in her hand. A minute later, she spoke again.
"They're saying that a plane crashed into the World Trade Center."
"What's a trade center?" I asked, not understanding or really paying attention.
"It's in New York. The whole building . . ." she paused. "Get up and look."
I rolled over and rubbed my eyes to clear them before staring at the television screen. I watched as a camera focused in on a view of New York City, smoke billowing out of a large building.
"Grandpa Joe lives in New York." I immediately said aloud.
"He's in a different city, far away from this." She assured me.
"What happened?" I asked. Plane crashes happened every now and again, but I never saw anything like it on the news unless it was local.
"Someone on the other channel said it was a hijacking."
"Who'd hijack a plane and then crash it?" I asked not understanding. In the movie when planes were hijacked it was for money, or to change the destination. "Maybe the pilot died and it just . . . fell." No other explanations came to me.
"I'm gonna go watch it on the big tv," Paula said, tossing me the remote.
"How sad," I said aloud, thinking about all the people on the plane, not even considering how many people might have been in the building. Not until . . .
"Oh my gosh!" I screamed, wide eyed. "Did you see that!?" Standing up immediately, I ran into the living room where my aunt and uncle sat in front of the larger television as reporters confirmed what I'd just witnessed. Another plane, purposely flew into the second building.
I ran back to my room as I heard the phone ringing, snatching it up, I muted the television.
"Are you watching tv?" Matt's voice echoed in the receiver.
"Yes, did you see the plane hit?"
"Yeah, my parents are watching right now."
Thoughts filled my head. One plane could have been an accident, but two? Into the same building? And New York City, so populated, so many people. Was this the end of the world? For some, it was.
"Is this like . . . an attack?" I finally got up the nerve to ask. I felt stupid asking Paula or Fred, but Matt's Dad was retired military and it seemed like maybe they'd had that conversation. Earlier in Church that week we learned about created an emergency 72 hour kit and to make sure that every family had enough food storage in case of disasters. Was this a sign?
"Don't know. If it was an attack, you'd think they'd just hit the White House or something." He assured me.
We stayed on the phone as long as we could before Paula told me to get off the phone because people might be trying to call. After hanging up I tried to go on about my normal routine as my family seemed to be attempting as well. After taking a quick shower, I stepped back into my room to dress. With my head upside-down and a towel briskly moving through, drying it, I overheard, "Pentagon has been hit."
World Trade Center was a place I knew nothing about. The Pentagon I knew.
Sitting down in my Grandmother's old recliner, I turned up the volume, wet hair falling against my face as I continued to watch. I didn't understand much of what was being said. Words like 'terrorist' were unknown to me, at least by popular definition. The phone rang every ten minutes or so, an uncle, aunt or cousin calling in, just to talk about what was going on.
Only when Paula told me that a plane had gone down in Pennsylvania did I really begin to panic. One of my best friends lived there and while I didn't know the details of the crash, or her specific location, I begged my aunt to let me get online to see if maybe, maybe, she could be contacted. Though I wasn't able to get a hold of her that moment, later in the week she emailed everyone to let her know that she was fine.
Hours after my television was turned on, the buildings had collapsed and every image of New York was buried in a cloud of ash. After saying a prayer for those who were involved in any way shape or form, I turned the TV off, unable to look anymore.
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