Chapter 5

September 11, 2015. Afternoon.

Bomi POV

My world is turning upside down. Did Chorong make it out of the North Tower ? I look at the clock. It is now 3:44 pm. If she gets out alive, she’ll come back home. So I HAVE to do something special to welcome her home. That’s it! A Bbom Dinner Special!!! I bounce up from the floor and check out the fridge. Hmm…. good thing we bought a lot of groceries this weekend. Still have a lot of carrots and potatoes. Oh! The lettuce looks fresh too!...and juicy tomatoes! YES! I pump a fist up in the air! I open the freezer. Nice! We got pork chops! So today’s dinner: salad and pork chops. I open the cabinet. Great! We still got some bubbly and candles too! Don’t forget the candles! I roll up my sleeves and start cooking.

‘…’

Fantastic! The pork chops look juicy and the salad actually looks edible. I prepare the table. I set the dinner on the table and put a big bowl over the chops to keep them warm. I set the plates and utensils. I set the wine glasses. Finally, I light up two long, scented candles. Soon, a nice aroma fills the apartment. It’s almost 5 pm. I hope Chorong returns soon.

*******

September 11, 2015. Early Evening.

It’s now 6 pm. I’ve been waiting for an hour. I guess I’ll have to heat up the pork chops. I’ve gotten several phone calls from friends, checking to see if I’m alright. I tell them I’m still waiting for Chorong to return. Naeun, Eunji’s wife, called just a moment ago that Eunji hasn’t returned yet. But then again, Eunji lives in Riverdale, way up in North Bronx. It’s a middle to upper class neighborhood with a large Jewish community and a nice commute to work on the Metro North train to Grand Central. I replace the scented candles. I’ll try calling Hayoung at home.

*DIAL HAYOUNG’S NUMBER*

The answering machine picks up.

‘Yah Hayoung! This is Bbom. Gimme a call to let me know you’re ok, alright ? Ciao!’ I sigh as I put down the phone. I glance at the time. It’s 6:30 pm. Hayoung should be home by now. I’m starting to worry.

*******

September 11, 2015. Evening.

It is now 9 pm. The dinner has long gone cold and the champagne is warm. I check the news on my computer. I immediately regret it. The NYPD was unable to mount even a single helicopter rescue. The smoke was too intense for rescuers to land on the roof and they didn’t have the equipment to attempt airborne rescues. People on rooftop either jumped to their death or went down with the collapsing towers. Chorong was in the North Tower and was heading towards the roof. With this realization, my fading hope is finally snuffed out. I suddenly feel nauseated and wobbly. I sit down in a corner on the floor and pull up my knees against my face. I cry myself to sleep.

*******

March 19, 2004.

‘Class 6-C, please give a warm welcome to your new classmate, Park Chorong.’ The teacher told us.

‘……