Let's Start Chapter 3 Fresh - Additions

Chapter 3

I woke up and panicked for a second. Whose house is this? Did I stay the night? Did someone drug me? Oh, right. My sister's. You know sometimes how you can wake up and have absolutely no idea where you are? That’s what happened. I could hear my sister and brother-in-law up already. I was so nervous to walk out there and see them. I peeked out the door. I think they’re in the kitchen. I snuck across the hall to the bathroom. Maybe I’ll be more apt to talk to them after a shower and some makeup therapy. I get in the shower, towel off, get dressed, do my hair and makeup. I was right. I feel slightly more like me again. I’m quite uneasy after last night, but I think I can face the world now.

“Good morning Sissy. Good morning Greg.”

Good God, my sister and I have managed to do our hair and make up exactly the same without even seeing the other. We look like Twinkies.
“Hey there! Are you ready to embark out on this great city of ours?” my sister asks.

“You bet." I actually am kind of looking forward to this. "What do we have on our agenda today?”

“We’ll grab some breakfast, stop at a few stores, I’ll show you Central Park, and then we can walk down to where the Trade Center used to be.”

“Um, sounds great I think.” Hey look at that terrifying, fiery hole in the ground where the biggest buildings use to be, but some crazy man blew it up. Want a picture for your scrapbook?

“Do you really think that you guys are ready to see something like that? I mean, it’s still on fire and it might be awful traumatizing,” Greg says. A voice of reason. I like him even though he violates Section A, Item #2 of the prologue.

“I think it’s important to go down there, to see everything. I think it will be a good part of the healing process, don’t you Olivia?” my sister asks.

“I guess so.” I say even though I couldn’t possibly agree with her less. After last night, I kind of wonder if my head can handle more trauma. Well, I guess she’s the one with the psychology degree and she’s older, so she knows what’s best, right? Boy I sure hope so.

Greg shrugs, downs his coffee, kisses my sister and heads off to his temporary office. He worked in the World Financial Center up until the 11th. The entire front of his building was blown off, and it's been used as a makeshift morgue. The terror these people have been through is impossible for me to fathom.

My sister and I are about ready to set off as well. She says that she just has to choose a bag and we can go. I shit you not, there has to be about 50 Kate Spade leather bags in her coat closet. Shouldn't a militant vegetarian (who still eats fish but I'm pretty sure they aren't vegetables) be opposed to a $500 cowhide bag used for the sole purpose of saying to people "Hey I can spend $500 on a cowhide bag"? I'll give her the benefit of the doubt that maybe it just didn't occur to her that they have to actually kill the cow for this, not shear it like a sheep. Whatever. One of us is doing quite well financially and it ain't the girl that lives in the ghetto.