Rifiuto: Non Miriena

"Good morning, Manhattan. It's September Eleventh, two-thousand-one, with not a cloud in the sky..." My sister flicked off the radio as we drove through early morning New York traffic, headed for NYU after having dropped the kids off at school. I lived with my sister on the West Side, but attended college at NYU- on full scholarship for a photography and journalism degree. I'd chosen journalism because I was always fascinated with current events, and photography because I was always taking photographs, so I figured I might as well combine the two and put them both to good use.

"What do you say we stop for coffee before I drop you off?" I glanced at her, meeting her gaze before,

"Won't that make you late?" I had an English class at seven-thirty; you could look out the window and see the towers in the Financial District; I spent the majority of my time watching the towers instead of paying attention in class-

She shook her head. "Nah. I'm always one of the first there, it'll be fine. Besides, we can talk plans for your birthday dinner on the way." She glanced over her shoulder before merging into the left lane. "So, where do you want to go?" I shrugged, before turning my gaze back to the window. My eye was instantly drawn to those two beautiful towers in the heart of the Financial District- the World Trade Center, one of the biggest tourist attractions in New York, rivaled only by the Statue of Liberty. With their massive sheets of steel and metal, rising one-hundred-ten stories over Manhattan, the towers were the most beautiful buildings I'd ever seen- or so I thought at age four, when our parents took us to Windows on the World for dinner one night, and we rode the elevators up to the one-hundred-seventh floor, back in 'eighty-six.

And my sister, my beloved older sister, worked within those beautiful towers.

"Sorry, what'd you say, Els?" She snorted softly, shaking her head, as she pulled into the parking lot of a local coffee shop- Zoe's Café Ole Café- and put the car in park. She turned the car off and got out, tossing her braid over her shoulder.

"Where do you want to go for your birthday dinner tonight?" I quickly scrambled out after her, dashing to catch up as I tugged on my jacket against the early morning chill.

"Um... Windows?" She turned to me, holding the door open. Her blue eyes blinked slowly, as though they digested food instead of her stomach. I shifted under her gaze; that beautiful blue stare had always unnerved me- even when I was little. And when she spoke, I jumped, startled by the octaves her voice rose with one word.

"Really, Ans? Windows... Why?" I followed her inside, and before we even got to the counter, our drinks were waiting for us. The joys of being locals at our regular coffee shop. My sister quickly paid and then nodded her thanks to Zoe before looping her arm through mine and tugging me from the coffee shop, taking me back to the car. I looked at her, watching those bright blue eyes as they seemed to intensely examine the ground, trying to find the answers to the universe within; watching as she sipped her coffee, letting me gather my thoughts before speaking.

"Well, because my sister is a hostess and she can get us the best table in the restaurant- one that overlooks the harbor and the district- for one, and, for two, they have a killer bar-"

She glanced at me and then promptly shook her head. "No, Ans. You're only nineteen. Legal drinking age is twenty-one."

"Yeah, in Nevada-"

"No. Everywhere."

I groaned, pulling away and turning to her. "Come on, Els. Please? It's just one drink."

"No."

"Please?" She shook her head. Elsa could be such a mom sometimes. "A glass of champagne, then? Please, Els. It's my birthday." She stopped, thinking. And then, opened the door.

"Fine." She turned back to me. "One glass of champagne- one- no more, are we clear?" I nodded, eagerly climbing back into the car. The ride to NYU was dotted with Elsa singing along to the radio, snatches of silence, and conversations about what exactly I should wear for my birthday dinner. By the time we pulled into the parking lot at NYU, my sister had exhausted her voice for singing so loud, and it was only about seven or so in the morning. She walked me to my first class, slipping her arm around my waist. "I will be here to pick you up at noon."

"For what?"

"Well, it is your birthday. And you're my baby sister, so... I'm going to take you out to lunch, and then we are going to go shopping."

"But Elsa-" She quickly waved it away.

"If it's the money you're worried about, you forget, I have a good job. I can afford to splurge a little on my baby sister for her nineteenth birthday. And I don't want to hear any protests, got it?" I opened my mouth to speak, but she held up a hand. "No. No protests, are we clear?" Slowly, I snapped my mouth shut. "So, that sound good?" I studied her for a moment, before finally nodding.

"Okay."

"Good." Then, she took hold of my shoulders and pressed a big kiss to my head; I giggled. That kiss on the forehead was always Elsa's way of saying that she loved me- from the time I was a baby, she would take my shoulders and kiss my forehead, making a big show of it. My earliest memory is clapping my hands and giggling as she kisses my forehead after opening our Christmas presents, with our parents watching from the sofa. "I'll see you at noon."

I watched her dash off to her car, not realizing that we would never keep that lunch date.