9/11

in the fall of 2001, ky was 16, in the 11th grade.

for the most part he would always get up and out of bed. eventually. i had to go in and say, "ky, come on. it's late," a lot. he had his evening routine down to maximize his sleep time. he'd shower at night, put on clean boxers and a t-shirt. then he'd get up, put on pants, and an overshirt of some sort and declare he was ready. he'd carry shoes and socks to the car. "10 minutes. i just need 10 minutes."

i don't remember much about 9/11. sallie called me at 6:30 a.m. as we spoke tower 2 was hit. i tried to reach miranda, but knew she would either be in the Bronx or at Columbia, both a safe distance from the Twin Towers. after a while i called Poly, and was surprised to hear that there would be school.

the next day was wednesday the 12th. ky refused to get out of bed. said he wasn't going to school. this was unlike kyle. sometimes he lingered in bed to a ridiculous time, but today there was a cold determination in his voice. i got frustrated. "what's going on? did you not get something done?" it was too soon in the year for a test or quiz. ky refused to answer and didn't move from his bed. he called again, "i'm not going." i walked away. came back. got angry. "well, i'm not calling Poly," i threatened. "it'll be an unexcused absence." i never had threatened this before. "i'll be in the car." i left, probably slamming the door, and waited.

kyle showed up, shoes in hand. opened the car door. collapsing, folding himself into the passenger seat, slamming shut the door. stuffing his backpack between his feet. i looked at his face and his eyes were full of tears. he was so upset, he couldn't speak. i immediately felt like such a failure as a mom. i wasn't even thinking about 9/11. i wasn't thinking that this might be distressing for him. he was usually such a good natured kid. he didn't take things hard, or if he did, he didn't let me know about it. i started the car and headed toward pasadena.

rather than proceeding down lake street, i turned into the driveway of a restaurant. i said, "let's get something to eat and then we'll see how you feel." we ordered breakfast. i bought a newspaper and we both started reading parts of it. eventually i think there was small talk. then more talking, about the highjackers and what it said in the newspaper. after eating we returned to the car. i told him i had to run a couple of errands and he could go with me if he wanted, but he said he was ready to go to school. i dropped him off.

i don't remember anything else about the day. but i remember thinking much later that it was a terrible thing for me to have done. to insist he go to school. as if 9/11 were nothing. as if he couldn't have had a damned good reason for wanting to stay in bed. as if just because he couldn't tell me, it wasn't really important. he didn't pull stuff like this often. why did i have to be a hard ass that day.

i know i was--am--a good mom. but 9/12/01 is one day i'd do over if i could.
that, and of course 7/5/07.