The Girl He Used to Know(69)
39
Annika
CHICAGO
SEPTEMBER 12, 2001
We have been up all night, and around six thirty in the morning, my call to Will finally goes through.
“I’m okay. I’ve already talked to Mom and Dad. I wasn’t anywhere near the towers. I tried to call you yesterday, but I couldn’t get through.”
“Mom told me. She and Dad are here with me now.” My voice cracks and I begin to whimper.
“Annika, everything’s okay. I promise.”
“Jonathan flew to New York Monday night. He was in the South Tower for a meeting. I spoke to him yesterday and told him to get out of the building. We were on the phone when the second plane hit. I haven’t heard from him since.”
“What? Oh God. Oh shit.”
“Can you go down there? Can you look for him?”
“Annika, the towers fell. Even if I could get near them, which I can’t, I have no idea what I’d do. It’s absolute pandemonium down there. There’s smoke and fire and … The National Guard is here.” He stops talking when I start sobbing. “I’m so sorry,” he yells in an attempt to be heard over the noise I’m making.
I hand the phone to my mom and I sit in the corner of my living room, MBJ 2.0 in my lap, and I rock. The reality of what I’m facing is too much for me to handle, and even though I promised Jonathan that I would be brave, that I would not run and hide from the things that scare me, I escape in the same way I always have when things go wrong.
I shut my eyes and I let sleep’s darkness swallow me.
* * *
When I wake up several hours later, still on the floor but with a pillow under my head and a blanket covering me, my body feels like a lead weight. I struggle to sit up. My dad is stretched out asleep on the couch, but my mom is on the phone. She looks at me and the first thing I notice is that her expression seems different. I don’t know what it means, but then she smiles, and when she hangs up, she gives me the first bit of hopeful news we’ve received since the planes hit the towers. While I slept, she decided to try Jonathan’s Chicago office again, and she tells me that he’s been accounted for by someone named Bradford Klein.
“That’s his boss,” I say.
“They told me everyone with direct reports is supposed to use their BlackBerrys to communicate with the Chicago office by email.”
My phone will do no such thing, but Jonathan’s BlackBerry can do things the phone he gave me cannot. I don’t care how they’re doing it as long as they provide an open channel of communication. A feeling of absolutely unmitigated joy rises in me with such force that I clap my hands while running around the room. My dad jolts awake. “What? What is it? What’s happened?”
“It’s good news,” my mom says. “They think Jonathan made it out okay.”
“He did make it out okay. Brad said so.” I start pacing again, impatient for details. “Where is he now? Is he hurt?”
“They couldn’t tell me much. They just said his name is on a list of employees who made it out of the building.”
“How can they not know where he is?”
“There’s still a lot of uncertainty,” my mom says. “Many of the survivors left on foot and are no longer in the area, especially once the towers fell. Does Jonathan know anyone in the city?”
“He knows Will, but I’m not sure if he’d know how to contact him. He knows that Janice lives in Hoboken. I don’t know if there’s any transportation available to take him there. I can ask Janice once I get through to her. I’m sure Jonathan has other friends or business acquaintances because he used to live there, but I don’t know their names or phone numbers.” Maybe his ex-wife will be nice enough to let him stay with her. I wonder if Liz was at the World Trade Center. I hope she got out of the building, too.
“Your brother will let us know if he turns up, and so will Janice. In the meantime, we’ll have to be patient. Jonathan will go somewhere, and I’m sure he’ll call as soon as he gets there.”
* * *
I am never able to get through to Janice, but an hour later, she calls me. “Clay is here. He was able to catch the ferry after spending the night on a friend’s couch a few miles from Ground Zero. That’s what they’re calling it. What about Jonathan? Have you heard from him?”
“He got out! My mom spoke to someone from his company’s Chicago office. We’re just waiting for him to call and let us know where he is.”
“Oh, thank God.” She’s crying now in relief. So am I. “I can’t get any incoming calls, but the outgoing calls seem to be going through now. You’ll hear from him soon. I’ll try you every hour. It’ll be okay.”
“It’ll be okay,” I parrot.
“It will.”
“I know,” I say, because I believe her and because it simply has to.
* * *
So, we wait. My mom makes lunch and forces me to eat it. The food feels like a lump going down my throat, because Jonathan really should have called by now.
There’s a reason he hasn’t.
I know that’s what we’re all thinking, but no one can say it, because that would mean admitting that maybe Jonathan didn’t make it out of the building.