Eva Narula on sister Manika, 22
There is an urgency to Eva’s words, a rushing forth of moments past. "This year’s been a lot about denial," says Eva. "We can’t face up to it."
We are in a booth at Martino’s, a pizzeria in King’s Park, an hour outside New York City. Eva fusses over a paper napkin, rolls it up, tears a piece of it, rubbing it between her thumb and index finger like raw cotton, until she produces a thin braid.
Eva waits for her younger sister Manika or Mona to show up any day now. After all, she calculates, it’s impossible Mona could have made it to work by 8.48 am, when the first WTC tower was hit. The train pulls into Penn Station at 8.08 am, and it takes another 20-25 minutes to take the subway downtown. On September 11, though, their train arrived at Penn Station at 8.23 am. Eva dashed off without the usual hug. Mona, she reasons, would have taken her own time to make the transfer. And then, at the WTC, it would have taken her five or ten minutes to fish her ID card out of the handbag. "She was so...