Spirit of the Nation ★ Female America

7. ''Nous Sommes Tous Américains''

September 14, 2001

Undisclosed Residence

Philadelphia, United States

Hundreds of New Yorkers crowded around "ground zero" on my TV screen. President Bush, bullhorn in hand, climbed atop a piece of rubble with the help of a firefighter. He started speaking, and the crowd went deathly silent.

"We can't hear you!" someone yelled from the back.

"I can hear you!" the President shouted to thunderous cheers. "I can hear you, the rest of the world hears you, and the people who knocked these buildings down will hear all of us soon!"

The blackout curtains blocked most of the late morning sun from entering my bedroom. Only the TV illuminated the used tissues on my bedsheets and glinted off the junk food wrappers on the ground. On my nightstand, a red light flashed on the answering machine, indicating that the tape was full. The phone cable itself was unplugged from the wall.

I braced myself on the porcelain sink in the sun-filled bathroom. Three sleepless nights in this house had given me puffy and bloodshot eyes. I leaned closer to the mirror and probed the web of red capillaries around my eyes. The pain in my chest was nothing more than a phantom discomfort at this point—just enough to be a reminder. Anxiety churned my stomach every second.

Suddenly, through the noise of the TV, I heard the stairs outside my bedroom door creak. I flew into the room and pressed the mute button on the remote. My heart started racing; I knew that the Secret Service would never enter my house without permission. An intruder...?

The footsteps were suddenly right outside the door.

I opened my nightstand drawer to arm myself and then slipped into the bathroom. Immediately after I shut the door, I heard the bedroom door open. Heart pounding, I sank down to the cold tile floor just inside the door, ready and waiting.

The carpet in the bedroom masked all sound. I squeezed the handle of my pistol, feeling waves of fear beating into me like waves on a rocky shoreline. They disarmed all rational thought, replacing it with a cacophony of noise. Violent, unyielding, terrorizing noise.

"Amérique...?"

I looked up with wide eyes.

There France stood behind the cracked bathroom door, his face scruffy and his brow deeply furrowed with worry. Feeling a rush of shame and embarrassment and regret, I covered my face with both hands. A tired sob tore through me.

I heard the door close. I felt him remove the gun from me and heard the metal clunk on the ground nearby. I sensed him sit beside me and felt him pull my body closer. His arms encircled me from behind, pinning my hunched and trembling body to his warm chest.

He held me tightly as I cried. Hands trapped as they were, I could only clutch hopelessly at his arms as he rocked us back and forth and shushed me. He did this for as many minutes as it took for my tears to subside. I tiredly leaned into him and sighed.

"Article Five..." He breathed out shortly. "I never thought the US would be the one."

"Me neither," I rasped.

I could barely think of the coming war without fear gripping my chest. Without knowing the attacker, without knowing who we were up against, I felt unsure. One thing, however, was absolutely certain.

"Whoever did this...they're all going to die," I said bitterly. "Die like dogs."

France immediately stilled. "Ma petite..."

"They will," I swore, curling my body inward.

He was silent.

After allowing me to simmer for a minute, he shifted behind me. His arm slid under my knees just before he lifted me as if I weighed nothing. I wound my arms around his neck as he stood to his feet. My weak protests went unacknowledged.

Downstairs, a large pile of letters sat on the doormat beneath the mail slot. France maneuvered around them as he stood in front of the door. "Go on, peep," he instructed softly. "A little bit."

Planting a hand on the door, I peered through the peephole. About ten Nations stood in a semicircle on my driveway, all wearing expressions of concern. I saw England, Canada, and a handful of other NATO members like Germany, Italy, Poland—wait, Ireland? Russia?

I recoiled.

"This morning, they finally told us where you've been hiding."

My heart started racing. "I—I can't face them," I choked out.

He shook his head and shushed me. "You don't have to, ma petite," he said gently. "All of us are here for you. Only for you."

I turned to bury my face in his neck.

"Today, we are all Américains."

~

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Nous sommes tous Américains | We are all Americans.