Flying

It wasn’t a hard decision. Once I had the idea, it made so much sense that I barely had to think twice about it. Jump or suffocate. When pressed with that quick decision, I would gratefully take the former any day. But that’s just me; many others who were faced with this choice would never jump. Perhaps they were too scared of the fall, or maybe the idea never crossed their minds. If I had a chance to choose again, I wouldn’t change my decision. For those ten seconds that I was falling, I felt alive. I know what you might be thinking – why not pick neither? That wasn’t an option. 

It had happened with a sudden jolt and a fierce lurch. The towers were built to sway in high winds, it was part of their design, but I knew that they weren’t meant to sway like that. My grip on the desk was tight as I struggled to keep my balance. Others around me were doing the same, looking around with wide, terror-stricken eyes. No one knew what was going on.  

The building eventually stopped rumbling, but it brought no relief to the faces of people around me. Through an open window, heavy, dark smoke began to circle in. It engulfed my lungs as I dropped to the floor, heaving and gasping. Some of my co-workers were doing the same, and some were rushing to the other windows in futile attempts to gain fresh air.  

It wasn’t long before I felt dizzy. Clean air was thin by that point, nearly non-existent. I didn’t know how long it had been – a minute? Two? I had brought my shirt up to cover my face, using the perspiration to my advantage.  

In a zombie-like trance, I reached into the pocket of my jeans, searching for my cell phone. My hand wrapped around its cold frame, and I brought it out, flipping it open. With shaking thumbs, I dialed my wife’s number. She answered on the third ring in a frantic voice. 

“Oh thank God, I’ve been trying to reach you. Where are you? Do you know about the planes? Are you okay?” 

My heart thudded painfully at her words. Planes? I had no clue what she was talking about. When I didn’t answer, her voice rang through the speaker again. “Noah? Baby, where are you?” 

“The 105th floor,” I replied. My voice was so hoarse that I didn’t know if she would be able to hear me, but somehow she managed. 

“Can you get out?” 

I didn’t know the answer to her question and the smoke was clouding my thoughts. “What happened?” I slumped against the nearest desk. 

“A plane crashed into the two towers, they think it’s a terrorist attack. Please, I need to know that you’ll be okay.”  

“A terrorist attack?” My stomach churned at the words. “Where are you?”  

“At home,” she said, almost cautiously. 

The smoke was getting thicker by the second and I knew that breathing would soon become impossible. I was going to suffocate. 

“I love you,” I said, wheezing. 

“I love you too, Noah. Please get out, I-” I didn’t let her finish, the phone slipped from my grip. Luckily, that was the goodbye I needed. Please get out. Yes, that’s exactly what I needed to do.  

My body felt numb and my lungs were raw, but I stood with determination. The smoke made it difficult to see, so I ran my hands along the wall until I reached the window. Except it didn’t feel like a window, it felt like freedom.  

Jumping was something I could control, a decision I could make. And so as I settled myself around the window, preparing for the end, I felt empowered. The terrorists couldn’t control my fate. It was all mine.  

When I pushed myself out of the window, I revelled in the fresh air. For that short moment before I hit the ground, I felt free. It felt like flying.