"A woman donning business attire descends down a long flight of stairs as fast as the thick smoke and her frail fifty-eight year old body would allow. As she neared the bottom, she saw that her way out was blocked by fire and rubble. Tears welled up in her eyes; this was the third route she used -and the third she found blocked. Too exhausted and demoralized to find another way out, the woman collapsed on the steps. Her last thoughts before she drifted into unconsciousness were of her family."
Meanwhile, across the Atlantic Ocean, three-year old Maria Grayson begins to stir quietly in the bed she shares with her parents. She lies there, waiting for a voice to say those dreadful words telling her to get out of bed and get ready. Get ready to go to that dreadful place - the place where she is known as "Weirdo" by the other children and "The Troublemaker" by scornful grown-ups. She didn't really know why the grown-ups over there called her that - the toys flew at the mean bullies, she didn't touch them - but they never believe her.
After a while, Maria convinced herself that her parents are not coming to wake her up. She crept out of bed, and then headed silently to the den room. When she got there, the first thing she saw was her father. The tall, broad-shouldered man sat there on the couch, staring wide-eyed at the TV, his face is a mask of fear and horror. Curiosity caused Maria to look at the screen. The sight perplexed her, the movie looked so real. Her father must be watching one of those scary movies she's not allowed to watch.
Jonathan Dunnegan looked on in horror at the scene unfolding on the news. He feared for his mother-in-law's safety; she might be inside the burning building. He could hear his wife, Ruth, pacing back and forth in the kitchen, desperately trying to contact her. His stomach lurched when he saw a second plane hit the second tower.
"Daddy, what movie are you watching?" He heard a child's voice next to him. Jonathan turned the television off and turned to Maria. His thoughts had been so wrapped up around the news, his mother-in-law, and his wife, he didn't notice the little girl he and Ruth adopted as an infant enter the room. Her big blue eyes pleaded to him to answer her question.
"Maria, sweetie … it's…it's not a movie," he swallowed the lump in his throat, took a deep breath, then continued, "Something very bad happened in the States."
"MOTHER PLEASE PICK UP THE PHONE," a half-scream, half-sob erupted from the kitchen. Maria followed Jonathan as he rushed into the kitchen to soothe his frantic wife. Ruth was now leaning against the counter with tears streaming down her face and her hand clutching the phone tight against her right ear.
"Ruth, honey, maybe she called in sick, she's been getting sick a lot lately, she's nearly sixty you know… or maybe she escaped but lost her phone and is still trying to reach you … hon, please, maybe she's safe and you just don't know it yet," he said as he cradled his wife. She looked up at him, "oh Jon, I called her so many times… I even called my brothers, they've been trying to contact her too..." she then broke into sobs into her husband's chest.
Maria looked on, wondering why her mother was crying and why her father looked like he was going to do the same. Her thoughts then turned to the strange movie that was on television. She then remembered the words her father told her and wondered what it meant. Maybe he didn't want me to watch it, she thought. While her parents were occupied with each other in the kitchen, the toddler satisfied her curiosity and the rebellious part of herself by turning the television back on. Just moments later, Jonathan and Ruth entered the denroom to fully explain the situation to their adopted daughter.
Ruth gasped in horror at what she saw on the screen. The sight of both towers burning dashed any hope she had that her mother could be safe inside the South Tower. The situation was too much her to bear any longer; she dropped the phone and fainted in her husband's arms. Maria watched Jonathan as he laid her mother down gently on the sofa then turned to her.
"Maria - go back to bed," the cold, stern tone of his voice, one that was so unlike him, killed all that was left of the little girl's defiance. The toddler obeyed and left the room in confusion.
A week later…
"Mommy, why are we going to the States? We're not going to stay there forever, are we? And what about Lizzie?" Maria interrogated her mother as she helped her pack her suitcase.
"Maria … we're going to visit grandmother, but we're only going to stay there for a week," Ruth managed to stem back her tears as she answered the first part of her daughter's question, "and Lizzie… it would be a while before she is able to live with us,"
"Mommy, why are we putting our ugly, black dresses in here, we're not going to wear them, are we?" Maria looked up at Ruth, wishing in vain that she would say 'no.'
"Yes Maria, we're going to wear the dresses when we visit grandmother," Ruth replied as her vision began to blur a little from the tears welling up in her eyes.
"Why?" Maria inquired further. At the same time, she is wondering why her mother is about to cry again.
"Maria, hon, are you two done? The plane leaves in about an hour, I got the rest of the things packed and in the car," Jonathan said in a sad voice as he entered the bedroom. Maria stared at him, wondering why he hasn't smiled since that strange day, not even on her birthday, which was a few days later. Ruth quickly packed the dresses - the last of the contents, into the suitcase and closed it. "We're ready now," she replied.
Taking up the suitcase, Ruth and her family headed out of their house, knowing that the pain of losing her mother would never go away and that someday Jonathan and herself would have to tell Maria, and perhaps Elizabeth too, what exactly happened on that tragic day. The latter is the least they could do to prevent something so terrible from ever happening again.
