Georgina doesn’t look up and doesn’t speak. Mommy reaches for her again. And this time, she pets Georgina’s hair. She leans down and kisses her head. After a few minutes, Mommy looks at us and leaves.
Mo crawls up onto the bed and over to Georgina’s pillow and sighs. “If there was ever a time when Georgina needed our help, it is now. Building the World Trade Center is necessary. Georgina needs to do this, and we need to help her.”
Mo is right. I feel it in my heart, and I want to be a part of it. “I’m going to help,” I say. “In whatever way I can.”
“That’s admirable,” Clementine says, licking her orange patch. “But I’m just going to sit here.” Lick, lick.
“In the sun.” Lick, lick.
“And watch.” Lick.
I think that’s the least-rude thing Clementine has said since I’ve been here.
We all wait for Georgina to come back to life. And when she does, after a long while, she sits down in the middle of the room and begins sorting bricks. Occasionally, a sniffle escapes from her exhausted body, and she gasps and hiccups and bounces slightly. It reminds me of the sad hounds at the shelter who just want someone to stop and tell them that they are loved.
I headbutt Georgina’s hip and nuzzle her side. “I am here for you, Georgina,” I say. “I love you.”
Georgina reaches out to me and Mo. She looks up at Laverne. I can tell we are just what she needs.
Well, us and skyscrapers.
Chapter 23
Mommy doesn’t come back in our room for the rest of the day. She leaves Georgina and us to do what needs to be done. And through the process, there is so much interesting information to learn about the Twin Towers and the World Trade Center. It’s more than just two identical buildings standing side by side.
“It was like its own little city,” Georgina says, wiping her sniffly nose. “It consisted of seven buildings. It had a train station and stores and a barbershop and restaurants, a police force, nine chapels, and it’s very own zip code.”
“What’s a zip code?” I ask Mo.
“It’s a number that identifies a geographical location—it’s part of the address. If anyone asks you yours, tell them 94611. That’s where we live.”
“When they built the Twin Towers,” Georgina says, “they wanted them to be the tallest buildings ever. Taller than the Empire State Building. Of course, the Sears Tower ended up being taller than all of them, but still. They used two hundred thousand tons of steel. The outer steel walls were built to resist 150 mile-per-hour winds. And the engineers calculated that if a plane accidentally flew into the towers, they wouldn’t fall down.”
“But they fell down, right?” I say.
“That’s because humans don’t know everything,” Clementine says.
“Also, it wasn’t exactly an accident,” Mo says.
“Someone flew into the Twin Towers on purpose?” I say.
“Sadly, yes,” Mo says.
That makes no sense whatsoever.
“Why, Mo?”
“That’s something we might never understand,” he says.
I certainly don’t get it.
Georgina keeps talking about the details of the construction. I could listen to her voice all day long. The way she talks about the architect, the location, all the workers. It’s like she’s an expert. But nobody ever explains why someone would fly an airplane into a skyscraper.
The construction goes on for several days. Mommy doesn’t ask about playdates. The A-U-G-U-S-T is gone from the calendar. Now it says S-E-P-T-E-M-B-E-R, and Georgina says that summer is almost over.
Mo and Georgina work hard to finish the Twin Towers and the smaller buildings around it. I do what I can, but mostly I’m there for emotional support. It’s almost done, and I can see how it does look like a little city—like when we climb up on the roof and look at San Francisco. I watch the two of them working. It’s like they speak the same language. But everyone knows hamsters and humans can’t communicate.
“Mo,” Georgina says, “the north tower needs to be slightly higher than the south tower.”
“Oh, right,” Mo says, looking over at me. “The real one was six feet taller. A good architect is always proportional.” Mo helps Georgina add one more layer of bricks to the north tower.
“Mo,” Georgina says, “let’s install a tightrope between the two towers.”
“Like the one Philippe Petit walked across,” Mo replies.
It’s like they are talking to each other. Or something. Usually, they’re so quiet.
Georgina goes to her desk and pulls out a ball of string and cuts a piece. She pulls a brick from the top of the north tower and one from the top of the south tower. Then she presses each end of the string into the open grooves of the bricks and snaps them back into place. It takes a couple of tries for her to get the string tight enough. But as soon as it is right, Mo climbs the south tower and steps onto the tightrope.
“This is marvelous,” he calls to me. “Can you believe a man actually walked between the two towers? A thousand feet in the air?”
“Mo, be careful. You could fall,” I say. And why would a human do that?
“It’s hard to be down when you are up!” he shouts. “That was the motto when they built this thing. Ha-ha!”
Mo stays on all fours and scoots out a few steps. He scoots out a little farther.
“This makes me nervous,” I say.
“I don’t even need a balancing pole,” he says.
I watch Mo move carefully on that rope. It sways, and for a moment, he hangs upside down. I can hardly stand it. I close my eyes.
“He’s had plenty of practice balancing in high places,” Clementine says. I didn’t even realize she was here. “Rodents are nimble, Elvis. Especially Mo.”
I know that she must be right. There is no one in the world like Mo. No one as smart. No one as brave. No one as wonderful. Just like Georgina. But thinking about how wonderful Mo is makes me worry even more. “Mo, please come down.”
I’m watching him again, and he is chuckling as he makes his way across the rope.
Finally, he is safe on the top of the other tower. He stands on his hind legs and pumps both fists in the air and shouts at me. “Holy habitat!”
Georgina claps and reaches out her cupped hands. Mo climbs in, then skitters up on her arm to her shoulder, where he grabs onto the collar of her shirt. They are both so proud.
Laverne splashes twice. “INCOMING! MOMMY!”
Mommy comes into the room. She doesn’t put her hands on her hips. Or even pet her tail of hair. She is calm and quiet. Come to think of it, I didn’t even hear any clippity-clopping. Clementine immediately nuzzles up to Mommy and slinks around her ankles. “Georgina, pretty soon you need to start getting ready to go to Daddy’s.” She walks around the room picking up clothes and putting books back on the shelf. She stops for a moment and stares at the Twin Towers and the whole World Trade Center city. “Wow!” she says. When she dips to pick something off the floor, Georgina leans to stay out of her way. When Georgina reaches to add a brick, Mommy stands back. She furrows her brows and doesn’t move. I can see them avoiding each other’s eyes. But I see Mommy’s eyes, and I think that she might start crying all over again.
Georgina finally speaks up. “Mommy, I want to take Elvis to Daddy’s this weekend. He’s never been to my other house, and he deserves to go.”
I instantly perk up. What? Go to Daddy’s house? I’ve never even thought of that.
“Oh,” Mommy says. “Do you really think that’s a good idea?”
“Yes!” Georgina says without looking up.
“Well, you can ask Daddy. He’s coming in for a few minutes. We’re going to talk about the school-year calendar.”
I sneak over to Mo, who is back in his plastic palace snacking on a sunflower seed. “Why would Georgina take me to Daddy’s?” I ask.
“Because she wants to share her world with you,” he says.
“But I thought this
was her world,” I say.
“Georgina’s world is much bigger than just this room,” Mo says. “You should talk to Georgina about it.”
“Mo, we don’t speak the same language.” I snap my tail in frustration. “You know that.”
“You don’t have to speak the same language to understand each other,” Mo says. “You have common ground.” Mo scurries over to me and does his Mo thing. He reaches up to my cheeks and holds my face, and with his black eyes piercing through me, he says, “Elvis, communication doesn’t always come from words. It can come from actions. It’s what we do together that connects us. That’s how we learn to understand one another. That’s where the magic happens.”
Mo trickles away and admires the towers. What is he talking about? Actions? Magic? Ugh.
“Elvis,” he says, “now tell me what you think about the Twin Towers. They are my favorite skyscrapers ever. I love how they are two buildings that belong together.”
I look at the twins. A brother and sister, standing shoulder to shoulder, the tightrope stretched between them. They are tall and skinny and surrounded by an array of other structures. Like a family of buildings. They were supposed to withstand any sort of destruction. But they collapsed anyway. It doesn’t make sense. And what does Mo mean by common ground? My head hurts.
Mo turns to me and grabs a whisker. “Do you have a favorite building, Elvis?”
A favorite building? I don’t know. But I humor him, as always. “Of course,” I say.
“Well, tell me!” He starts to twist that whisker.
The Twin Towers are marvelous, to use Mo’s famous word. I really do think that. I look up at the shelf where all the other skyscrapers sit, tall and proud. They are impressive for so many reasons. I look them over and consider all their admirable qualities. But the truth is that my favorite isn’t up there. It’s probably not that famous. And it certainly isn’t very tall.
“My favorite building in the world is the City Shelter of Care and Comfort,” I say.
Mo grins. And, thankfully, he lets go of that whisker.
“Nice, Elvis,” he says. “Very nice.”
Chapter 24
Daddy arrives a few minutes later.
“INCOMING! DADDY!”
I’m not going to say anything to Mo, but I’m curious about going to Daddy’s—to see another part of Georgina’s world.
I look up and see a man standing in the doorway. Daddy! He’s not as tall as I thought he would be. He has graying hair, like Mo. But his smile is just like Georgina’s. The two are a matched set. Like the Twin Towers—except that Georgina is shorter, like the South Tower.
Daddy leans down to Georgina and gives her a hug. He looks at the Twin Towers and inspects them closely. “This is incredible, G,” he says. His eyes sparkle like hers. And now that they are at the same height, they look more and more like the Twins.
“Daddy, this is my best project.”
“Your mother told me how important it is to you. Who helped you?” Daddy runs his finger along the rope connecting the two towers.
“Mo and Elvis, mostly,” she says. “They’ve helped me with all my skyscrapers.” My heart flutters when she says my name.
“That’s so nice of them,” Daddy says.
“I really wanted that picture,” Georgina says. “From the album. But the album is officially lost, I guess.”
“It’ll show up eventually, G,” Daddy says. “Wow. I really can’t believe you made this.”
Georgina points out all seven buildings of the World Trade Center. Daddy sighs. And I think he might cry. The Twin Towers make everyone in this family cry. She shows him her other skyscrapers.
“These are beautiful, and I am so proud of you,” he says. “I can’t believe you built all these just by studying your book—without any of those LEGO kits! They’re so intricate.”
“I’m ten. I don’t need kits anymore. Remember?”
“I know,” Daddy says. “What you’ve accomplished is spectacular.”
Daddy kneels and reaches for me. “You must be Elvis,” he says. I don’t mind at all when he scratches behind my ears. “It’s great to meet you in person. Or, in kitten, as the case may be. I understand you’ve been through quite a lot.”
“I have,” I say. But before I can tell Daddy more, Clementine butts in.
“Hello, Clementine. My sweet Clementine,” Daddy says. “How I’ve missed you, gorgeous girl.” Daddy picks her up and snuggles her and pets her, and she loves every second of it. Clementine looks down at me, and, the truth is, I can’t deny that I am happy she is getting some attention.
“Daddy,” Georgina says, “can Elvis come with me to your house this weekend?”
“Oh, I’d love to have him, G. But the apartment rules and all.”
Daddy holds Clementine and strokes my back at the same time. I love how he calls Georgina “G.” It’s a great letter. I decide right then and there that I want to go to Daddy’s house.
“Daddy, no one would have to know. We can sneak him in, and it would only be until Monday morning. Please, Daddy!”
“It wouldn’t be fair to Clementine, would it?”
“She can come, too.”
I look at Clementine, who is now as full of hope as I am. But then I look at Mo. Mo needs to come, too.
“It will be an adventure, Daddy,” Georgina says. “They won’t make any trouble. Think how much fun we’ll all have. Mommy doesn’t care anyway.”
I watch the way Clementine responds to Daddy. She is tucked into his chest, and her eyes are closed.
“I really want to go,” I say, and I give Daddy a good, strong headbutt to make my point.
Daddy is quiet for a moment. Then he looks around Georgina’s room and says, “Okay. But only this one time. Go ahead and get their supplies. You’re going to need to bring a bag of food and some kitty litter. I can’t believe I’m allowing this.”
“Thank you, Daddy!” Georgina hugs Daddy, and Clementine and I get in on the snuggle.
I look over at Mo, who is busy in his plastic palace. “You’re coming with us, right?” I say.
“No, no,” he says. “Don’t worry about me. I’m not a good traveler, remember? I need to rest, anyway. I’m tired from all this construction work.”
I don’t want to go anywhere without Mo, but maybe just this once.
Georgina untangles herself from our embrace and twirls out of the room, leaving Clementine and me wrapped in Daddy’s arms.
“I’m not gonna lie, Clementine,” he says. “I have missed the heck out of you. We’re going to have a wonderful weekend.” Daddy carries us both out of the room.
“Goodbye,” Mo calls out. “I’ll be here when you get back.”
In a matter of minutes, I’m back in my cardboard carrier with Clementine tucked in beside me. I’m excited, but I shudder in the same moment. Every time I’ve been shoved into this box, something terrible has happened. I realize right then just how hard it is to be a cat in a human world.
“I don’t know what we’re in for,” I say to Clementine.
“Expect the unexpected,” she says.
“The unexpected is always distressing,” I say.
“Not always,” she replies.
Spending the weekend with Clementine is truly unexpected.
So is her optimism.
Chapter 25
Everything is different at Daddy’s house.
For one thing, when you walk through the front door, you are practically in the kitchen. A short stroll from there is the bedroom and the bathroom. There aren’t any stairs at all. And not very many hiding places. But it doesn’t matter, because I don’t feel like hiding.
There’s a cushy-looking sofa against the wall, and a picture of Georgina. In the picture, she’s smiling with sparkling eyes, the way she looks when she’s working on skyscrapers.
I jump up onto the sofa, careful not to put too much pressure on my bad paw. But, come to think of it, my paw feels great. And that makes sense, because
according to the calendar, it’s been more than six weeks.
From atop the sofa, I have a view of the whole place. It reminds me of being in the condo up front at the shelter.
“Okay, G, you’d better set up the litter box right away. You can put it in the hall next to the laundry closet. And go put your backpack away,” Daddy says.
Georgina tucks her backpack into the corner next to a large, puffy chair. She pours the litter into a small box and sets it in the hallway, if you can even call that a hallway—it doesn’t really go anywhere.
“Where’s Georgina’s bedroom?” I ask Clementine, who is nosing around in the kitchen.
“How should I know,” she says. “I’ve never been here.”
“I don’t think she has one,” I say.
Clementine saunters over to where the litter box sits and peers around. “Not much privacy,” she says.
I laugh.
Soon enough, all four of us are close and comfortable on the sofa. I’m on Georgina’s lap and Clementine is on Daddy’s lap. When Daddy gets up to get snacks, he takes Clementine with him, tucked under his arm. Back on the sofa, he settles her exactly the way she was before, like it is all perfectly natural. Smooth and easy. That’s how it feels. No one jumps or jolts or strains or stomps. It’s what Mo would call “heaven on earth.” Even with Clementine. She’s different at Daddy’s.
I listen to the soothing sounds of Georgina and Daddy’s conversation.
They talk about everything and everyone. They talk about school starting soon and how that makes Georgina feel—nervous and excited. They talk about how quickly summer has gone by. They talk about skyscrapers. And they talk about what happened in New York City way back when.
“Your mother and I sang at Carnegie Hall,” Daddy says. “We were so young.”
“I know. I’ve heard the story before, Daddy.”
“We made grand plans back then. We were barely eighteen. Your mom thought about becoming an architect. Did you know that?”
“I know that, too, Daddy. You’re acting like I didn’t pay attention to you all those times.”
Elvis and the World As It Stands Page 9
