Tuesday {The Manhattan Trilogy #1}

Going Back (J)

It has now been over five hours since I heard the tragic news of my other daughter's collapse. North Tower had lasted 102 minutes, six minutes longer than her sister had, before falling down at 10:28 AM. She left this cruel world so suddenly, just like her sister.

Both of my girls, my precious daughters, are dead. I am no longer a father.

I think of May 2, 1990, the day my twins were born. How they smiled and laughed as my wife Helena held them in her arms! They were both so innocent and so beautiful. Why did they have to die so young? They were only eleven years old when they left the Earth, and they had so many goals set in the whole life they had ahead of them!

7 World Trade Center just fell, too, at 5:20 PM. People say the reason it fell was because the building was burning heavily, on fire for too long without any attempt to extinguish the flames. This seems similar to how a person will eventually die if a severe injury or illness is left untreated for days or even hours. Seven World Trade Center's fall, in addition to the collapse of both of my Twin Tower daughters, means that three of the seven World Trade Center buildings are already down.

What evil people did this to us? Are any more WTC buildings going to fall?

I am so incredibly mad at whoever has enacted these attacks on my country, I have to restrain myself from physically punching something or even someone as I walk over to the site of the World Trade Center complex. I am going to see the body of my other daughter, who was killed by someone who obviously dislikes our lovely America greatly.

Then, all of a sudden, she is lying directly at my feet. Nothing could have prepared me for what I am seeing at this moment, even seeing South Tower's dead body earlier this morning.

North Tower, limp and still, is lying in front of me on the ground. Her gray eyes are totally glazed over, and her mouth remains open, meaning the final sound she made was likely a scream. Her right hand is outstretched, and it appears that she was trying to hold her identical twin's hand in her final moments of life. The small girl at my feet is not breathing, either, and probably hasn't been for almost six hours now.

I drop to my knees in the presence of my last living child's pale body, just like I had when I witnessed South Tower dead on the ground. Tears flowing from my eyes, I put two fingers on her eyelids and carefully close her beautiful eyes. I shut her mouth as well, so that she doesn't have that painful scream etched on her face anymore. She can rest in peace at last now.

I hold her left hand, stroking it, thinking of all the fun times we shared as father and daughter as she grew up on the bustling streets of Manhattan. North Tower was such a good kid to everyone else besides me, too. Always scoring straight As, never anything less than an 85, constantly getting positive remarks from her teachers, and just recently being drafted fourth overall to the Manhattan Jets, a team in the New York Junior Hockey League, the most popular professional junior hockey league in the whole region.

Their first preseason game is now just three days away, at the newly constructed Cantor Fitzgerald Arena on Fulton Street. If only North Tower had lived long enough to score a goal for the brand-new team. If only her twin sister, who was a terrific goalie, had lived long enough to make a miraculous save on a shot from a menacing player on the opposing team.

I sing to North Tower, too, just like I did to her sister when I found her body nearby.

Hush little baby, don't say a word
Papa's going to buy you a mockingbird.
If that mocking bird won't sing,
Papa's going to buy you a diamond ring
If that diamond ring turns brass,
Papa's going to buy you a looking glass.
If that looking glass gets broke,
Papa's going to buy you a Billy goat
If that Billy goat won't pull,
Papa's going to buy you a cart and bull
If that cart and bull turn over,
Papa's going to buy you a dog named Rover
If that dog named Rover won't bark,
Papa's going to buy you a horse and cart
If that horse and cart falls down,
You'll still be the sweetest little baby in town.

I ask myself why I am singing nursery rhymes to my eleven-year-old twin daughters, who had long since grown out of them. The tunes seem to just pop into my head, memories from when the twins were just toddlers.

"Papa will buy you the sweetest little dress," I tell my lifeless girl as I fix her position. "It will be for your burial."

My heart physically aches when I say those words, wanting to believe they are not true. I wish I can stop sobbing, but I can't. This is the saddest and most painful thing I've ever faced in my life, especially on a day like my birthday. It will be hard to move on without being able to raise two wonderful children like my twins.

I spot a violet in the dust and swiftly pick it up. What are the odds of it just being there? And the rose as well? Two little flowers for my two little girls.

I place the violet in North Tower's left hand with care. Then, taking South Tower's hand from her waist, I connect it to her twin's right hand.

"May you rest in eternal happiness together," I mumble to the twins.

Standing up, I bow my head and turn to walk away from the site. I don't want to believe my daughters are gone anymore. They were my only babies, and I want to have them back.

Who do I see waiting for me when I turn around but my wife, Helena.