Extremely Loud And Incredibly Close Part 11

It's a shame to be inside.

I guess so.

But here we are.

I wanted to turn to face him, but I couldn't. I moved my hand to touch his hand.

They let you out of school?

Practically immediately.

Do you know what happened?

Yeah.

Have you heard from Mom or Dad?

Mom.

What did she say?

She said everything was fine and she would be home soon.

Dad will be home soon, too. Once he can close up the store.

Yeah.

You pressed your palms into the bed like you were trying to lift it off us. I wanted to tell you something, but I didn't know what. I just knew there was something I needed to tell you.

Do you want to show me your stamps?

No thank you.

Or we could do some thumb wars.

Maybe later.

Are you hungry?

No.

Do you want to just wait here for Mom and Dad to come home?

I guess so.

Do you want me to wait here with you?

It's OK.

Are you sure?

Positive.

Can I please, Oskar?

OK.

Sometimes I felt like the s.p.a.ce was collapsing onto us. Someone was on the bed. Mary jumping. Your father sleeping. Anna kissing me. I felt buried. Anna holding the sides of my face. My father pinching my cheeks. Everything on top of me.

When your mother came home, she gave you such a fierce hug. I wanted to protect you from her.

She asked if your father had called.

No.

Are there any messages on the phone?

No.

You asked her if your father was in the building for a meeting.

She told you no.

You tried to find her eyes, and that was when I knew that you knew.

She called the police. It was busy. She called again. It was busy. She kept calling. When it wasn't busy, she asked to speak to someone. There was no one to speak to.

You went to the bathroom. I told her to control herself. At least in front of you.

She called the newspapers. They didn't know anything.

She called the fire department.

No one knew anything.

All afternoon I knitted that scarf for you. It grew longer and longer.

Your mother closed the windows, but we could still smell the smoke.

She asked me if I thought we should make posters.

I said it might be a good idea.

That made her cry, because she had been depending on me.

The scarf grew longer and longer.

She used the picture from your vacation. From only two weeks before. It was you and your father. When I saw it, I told her she shouldn't use a picture that had your face in it. She said she wasn't going to use the whole picture. Only your father's face.

I told her, Still, it isn't a good idea.

She said, There are more important things to worry about.

Just use a different picture.

Let it go, Mom.

She had never called me Mom.

There are so many pictures to choose from.

Mind your own business.

This is my business.

We were not angry at each other.

I don't know how much you understood, but probably you understood everything.

She took the posters downtown that afternoon. She filled a rolling suitcase with them. I thought of your grandfather. I wondered where he was at that moment. I didn't know if I wanted him to be suffering.

She took a stapler. And a box of staples. And tape. I think of those things now. The paper, the stapler, the staples, the tape. It makes me sick. Physical things. Forty years of loving someone becomes staples and tape.

It was just the two of us. You and me.

We played games in the living room. You made jewelry. The scarf grew longer and longer. We went for a walk in the park. We didn't talk about what was on top of us. What was pinning us down like a ceiling. When you fell asleep with your head on my lap, I turned on the television.

I lowered the volume until it was silent.

The same pictures over and over.

Planes going into buildings.

Bodies falling.

People waving s.h.i.+rts out of high windows.

Planes going into buildings.

Bodies falling.

Planes going into buildings.

People covered in gray dust.

Bodies falling.

Buildings falling.

Planes going into buildings.

Planes going into buildings.

Buildings falling.

People waving s.h.i.+rts out of high windows.

Bodies falling.

Planes going into buildings.

Sometimes I felt your eyelids flickering. Were you awake? Or dreaming?

Your mother came home late that night. The suitcase was empty.

She hugged you until you said, You're hurting me.

She called everyone your father knew, and everyone who might know something. She told them, I'm sorry to wake you. I wanted to shout into her ear, Don't be sorry!

She kept touching her eyes, although there were no tears.

They thought there would be thousands of injured people. Unconscious people. People without memories. They thought there would be thousands of bodies. They were going to put them in an iceskating rink.

Remember when we went skating a few months ago and I turned around, because I told you that watching people skate gave me a headache? I saw rows of bodies under the ice.

Your mother told me I could go home.

I told her I didn't want to.

She said, Have something to eat. Try to sleep.

I won't be able to eat or sleep.

She said, I need to sleep.

I told her I loved her.

That made her cry, because she had been depending on me.

I went back across the street.

Planes going into buildings.

Bodies falling.

Planes going into buildings.

Buildings falling.