Chapter 1

I remember when I could easily fall asleep at night. I remember when my mind could take a break from the constant running. I also remember when everything changed for me. I didn’t realize it right at the time. I was under the impression that it all went to shit in September of 2001. But, actually it was all the way back in 1987. With the way the psyche works and ignores actual chronological time, this is my series of events. Now, I don’t want this to deter you from reading what I have to say. This is not some tale of woe; my way of looking for sympathy on a global scale. With drama comes comedy, and my overly dramatic life is wrought with comedy.

This cannot seriously be my life. No one has it this ridiculously hard year after year. My first trip to New York City. I should be so jazzed. I’ve been planning this trip for the last three months. I haven’t seen Christine in at least ten years. Who goes that long without seeing their sister? What makes you think that it’s OK? Give me a break. My family is insane.

So there I was. 21 years old. Having the absolute time of my life during this right of passage. The countdown to NYC had begun. Only a week left! I wake up on September 11th to the phone ringing all too early in the morning. “What?”
“Olivia?” Who else would it be? I live alone. And, in my mother’s mind, I always will be alone and I will never give her a grandchild. I’m more than likely a lesbian. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

“Yes, Judy, it’s me. I don’t want to work right now.” However, as I say that to my boss, I start to notice the panic in her voice. Actually, I can’t even put too much into that. She really is quite dramatic. If you don’t fill the ice bucket at work before you leave you’d think that you’d just hit her dog with a three wheeler… but I digress.

“Are you watching T.V.? Something is going on in New York.” There is an icy panic to her voice that let’s me know I didn’t forget something while I was closing the shop last night.I do not get dressed. I do not turn on the T.V. I just get up and drive to the shop in a mental fog. I do not have to look first. I have known Judy long enough to know that this must be huge.As I pull into the parking lot, our coffee shop has many more cars there than usual. You’d think we would be busy being that we were the only shop for miles, but we have never once advertised and we don’t even have a sign. You wouldn’t believe how many people try to order fried rice from me or how often I hear “what a lousy Chinese menu I have”. We’re hooked on to a Chinese restaurant whose tower blew down some time ago and took our only sign with it. It actually made the news in our little community. I had to be on TV with no makeup, soaking wet hair, and getting interviewed by a close-talker. I walk in and see the TV on. There are three incidents that constitute turning on the television at the shop: 1. I’m working late and I can watch the Simpsons in peace. 2. Judy is working a 12 hour day and doesn’t want to miss her soaps. 3. National emergencies. This was not a soap opera day. People are just standing there like zombies watching our circa 1970 television. No one is speaking. Just staring. Then we watch the second plane hit live on national television.
“Jesus Christ! What the hell is going on?” I yell. No one responds.