Time to Go

“Time to go.” Those were the reported last words of Mr. Ġefǣr.

 Adrian Rivera sat at his desk on the 50th floor of the One World Trade Center, fingers resting momentarily over the keyboard as he gazed out at the skyline. The vast panorama of New York City spread before him, yet his thoughts drifted back to a time he could barely remember and to a childhood friend he could never forget. Today was, after all, the anniversary. The day that changed the world and his own life forever.

On the fateful day of September 11, 2001, Adrian had been nothing but a child at the Children’s Discovery Daycare, located just steps from the Twin Towers, where his parents worked. He had lost both his parents that day, though he remembered this not being such a heavy blow to him as his parents had always been so distant, always busy. The loss that struck him deeper than anything he had yet to experience in his life was that of Isobelle Green. She was the daughter of one of Adrian’s coworkers, and they had spent many days in that little daycare together. Adrian had considered Isobelle his best friend in those days, and he was certain she felt the same way about him. Even after Isobelle’s passing, Adrian never considered anyone else as close a friend as her. True, most days, she would be little more than a faded memory, but living through a day like that was something no one could ever truly forget. Besides, when the anniversary drew nearer, Adrian found that he could see her face clearly again, as if this calendar week had healing properties on his mind and memory.

In times like this, he was lost in thought about all of the “what ifs…” that would have been their lives. Would they have stayed friends? Went to college together? Would they have been married? And if she had been given the chance to move away, what life would Isobelle have led? What impacts on the world would be the result of Isobelle Green? Adrian, of course, knew that such thoughts were fruitless – pointless – but every year at this time, they invaded his mind all the same.

As Adrian adjusted his tie, he moved away from the window and away from the office; time to go.

Lost in thought, he moved down the empty hallway; the overhead lights flickered momentarily. He pushed the down button on the wall for the elevator down. The elevator dinged incessantly, then fell silent - the elevator appeared to be out of order. Adrian flashed a knowing smile; he preferred to walk anyway. He found the doorway leading to the fluorescent-lit stairwell, the cold air permeating from the concrete steps and steel handrails. The rhythmic echo of his footsteps filled the stairwell as he descended toward the lobby.

When he reached the first-floor landing, he was panting lightly and felt cooler than he had at the top of the stairs. After all, 50 flights was a trek, but at least it was down and not up. As he stood in the lonesome landing of the stairs, catching his breath, something unusual caught his eye. A door, simple and unassuming, stood ajar against the wall. It was painted with a faded eggshell white and was unlike any door he’d seen within the building – as if the building architect had unthinkingly placed it in the blueprints from a side project.

Adrian hesitated for a moment as he stared at this unusual door, curiosity gnawing at him like a ghostly whisper. His heart raced as he stepped toward it for reasons he could not understand.

As he creaked it open, a sudden breath of cool air met him, and he glimpsed inside. Whatever he expected to see – anything from a custodial closet to a supernatural blinding light or vortex – was not this. It was a hazy green glow illuminating a familiar room. From where he stood, it was as if a heatwave had frozen in position within the door’s threshold as he looked into this dreamlike scape. He stepped through, doubt mingling with childish wonder, and was swept into a world long forgotten.

The world spun, shifting like a cinematic reel, and he stumbled into the familiar, colorful interior of the Children’s Discovery Daycare. The sound of laughter and playful chatter filled the air. Hesitant, he looked around. Everything was as he remembered: crayon drawings plastered on the walls, colorful building blocks scattered on the floor, and the intoxicating scent of paint and glue.

He stood in the Children’s Discovery Daycare to find that he seemed to have traveled back in more ways than one. His younger self looked back at him from the mirror of the past, and he raised his hands in front of his face to confirm that, yes, they were now the hands of a child. He was a little boy again - small and untainted by time. Toys lay scattered across the colorful carpet, and the cheerful cries of laughter echoed around him. Before him stood Isobelle - the girl with the sea-green eyes to match her last name and laughter that could melt ice caps. His heart twisted painfully at the sight of her, memories flooding back with every breath.

“Adrian!” she squealed, the bow in her long black hair bouncing as she ran towards him. “Look! I can play hopscotch!”

Adrain grinned as tears pooled in his eyes. “Isobell!” he called, “I can’t believe it’s you!” Despite the fact that he was still technically an adult, one who worked with the finances of others (a serious profession to him), he ran to her. They played together freely, just as they did all those years ago - a simple joy that felt eternal in that moment.

They played, built towers with blocks, and painted with bright colors; the heartbreak of the past melted away. Adrian marveled at her laughter and innocence. How badly he wished he could freeze time and hold onto this moment so she never had to leave him again, so the world wouldn’t have to be so dark anymore. But as the sunlight snuck through the window, he heard Mr. Ġefǣr's familiar voice calling.

“Time to go.” Mr. Ġefǣr announced, his voice warm but authoritative. The rush of little feet echoed as the children scrambled.

Adrian's heart sank as the room darkened, the air thickening with an unnatural weight. He instinctively grasped Isobelle's hand as the ground trembled beneath them. The world around him shuddered violently, and in that terrifying instant, horror-struck, the explosion echoed through the fabric of time. A deafening roar enveloped them, much like the rising wall of smoke and rubble threatened to as it rushed to meet them. Adrian turned to shield Isobelle, but the force of the initial impact was so massive, so tragically powerful, it threw him back and away from her. He tumbled through the air until he landed flat on a cold slab of concrete. He didn’t remember there being any concrete flooring in this daycare.

He shot to his feet and, gasping for air, found himself once again inside the stairwell of the One World Trade Center. Before him, the old door with the faded paint stood ajar just as it had before.

“No! No!” he shouted. Panic settled in and threatened to consume him. Could he return? He had wasted his time there, reliving a childhood memory when he could have saved Isobelle instead. Desperation drove him back toward the door. This time, he focused intensely, his heart a compass towards that precious moment in time. He didn’t know if he would be permitted to go back again. With a deep breath and a silent prayer, he grasped the doorknob and swung it open.

The dim green light was still there as Adrian looked through the optical illusion of a calm wave without water at the wall covered in children’s drawings. Adrian’s heart raced. As he stepped through, he felt himself shrinking, memories swirling around him, and once more, he was a small child in the daycare, the same as he was over twenty years ago this day. With every second precious, he found Isobelle again. “Adrian!” She squealed, her bow once again bouncing in the air as she rushed to meet him.” Look! I can play –”

Adrian grabbed her wrists and interrupted her with a hissing, “Listen!” Isobelle blinked, looking at him in shocked wonder. “You need to get out of here. Now!” Adrian commanded. Before she could ask why or protest, he began pulling her toward the front door. “Once you’re outside, I need you to start running – away from the towers. As fast as you can, okay? Don’t stop for anyone or anything; when you feel like your legs hurt and you're out of breath, you. Keep. Running. Do you understand?”

Confused tears welled in Isobelle’s eyes. “I don’t understand! I’m scared!”

Adrian sighed and squeezed her shoulders. “I know you are, and I am, too. I promise I’ll explain when I can, but we don’t have time right now!” Isobelle nodded gingerly. “Okay,” she whimpered. “But what about Mr. Ġefǣr? He’d stop us before we got outside.”

“I’ll handle him. Now, run!”

Terrified and confused, Isobelle ran for the door. Mr. Ġefǣr rose from his seat by the door with his hands on his hips. “Where do you kids think you’re going?” he demanded.

Sorry, Mr. G, Adrian thought to himself. He broke into a sprint and, with his much smaller frame, launched himself and headbutted Mr. Ġefǣr in the crotch. The man doubled over in pain. “Sorry!” Adrian yelled as he spun on his heel. He really was sorry, but if it was a choice between Mr. Ġefǣr and Isobelle…

Two long-fingered hands gripped Adrian’s shoulders from behind, holding him back. Mr. Ġefǣr yelled, “What has gotten into you, Adrian?!” Hearing this, Isobelle froze in her tracks to face Adrian, who saw her stop and screamed, “Run, Isobelle, run!” Perhaps it was the intensity in his voice or the new look in his eye that was so adult and serious, more than anything a child his age should be able to conjure in a glare. Either way, she did what she was told. Isobelle had made it out the door and was running down the street.

Adrian wanted to sigh in relief, but he was still wrestling against Mr. Ġefǣr’s grip. “Adrian! Knock it off! What is the matter with you?!” Adrian didn’t answer; he only kicked and squirmed against the restraint. Mr. Ġefǣr growled in frustration as he pulled Arian back, snarling, “Time to go!” Then, everything exploded.

***

Isobelle Green stood behind the podium, her heart heavy yet filled with purpose. The soft glow of the stage lights illuminated her face, casting gentle shadows that danced across the room full of eager listeners. The annual gala for her charity foundation, Bows for the Broken, was in full swing, and the atmosphere crackled with optimism.

She took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the red bow in her hair - a symbol of love, loss, and resilience for a day that forever etched tragedy into her soul. It was her way of honoring Adrian Rivera, her best friend, who had sacrificed everything to save her on September 11th, a day that seemed to blur the line between innocence and reality. She had given up many years ago trying to figure out how he knew to get her to run away, and all suspicion and curiosity had simply been replaced by the love and gratitude she felt for him.

“Good evening, everyone,” she began, her voice steady even as her heart raced. “Thank you for joining us tonight. Your presence here means more than you can imagine. Together, we are weaving a tapestry of hope for children who, due to tragedy, have lost so much.”

The crowd was quiet and rapt with attention, and Isobelle felt their collective energy fueling her resolve. She continued, “This year, thanks to your generous donations, we’ve raised over three million dollars, all of which will go directly to aiding children orphaned by disasters around the world -natural or man-made. We’ve partnered with various shelters, educational programs, and counseling services to ensure that no child feels alone in their journey. Together, we’re transforming raw grief into a foundation for strength!”

A wave of applause rippled through the audience, and Isobelle smiled, holding their gaze.

As the applause faded, she prepared for her concluding words. “Tonight, as we celebrate the incredible impact we can make, I want to take a moment to remember one remarkable boy - Adrian Rivera. He was bright, brave, and always there when I needed him. On that fateful day, he stepped into the chaos and pulled me out of harm’s way, all while knowing the risks. His spirit has not left me; it guides every decision I make through Bows for the Broken. That red bow in my hair is not just a tribute to him; it symbolizes the courage and love that lives on in every child we work to help. It’s a reminder that every bow we tie together represents a child finding their way back to hope, back to joy, and back to life.”

As Isobelle’s final words hung in the air, a profound silence enveloped the room. Just like that, the crowd erupted into applause once more, a heartfelt wave of appreciation that swept over her like a warm embrace.

Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes as she stepped back from the podium, feeling a gentle hand on her shoulder. Her husband, Mark, guided her down the stage steps, his reassuring presence grounding her. The applause echoed, creating a symphony of gratitude around her as she smiled through her tears.

As she left the stage behind, the applause continued, resonating with the unspoken promise that no child would ever feel alone, that Adrian Rivera's bravery would never fade, and that they would keep tying those bows of hope for the broken together. The night was not just a commemoration of what was lost but a celebration - a celebration of resilience, love, and the enduring spirit of a young boy who had changed everything.

Isobelle and Mark left the One World Trade Center lobby behind and made for the elevator, where they would be greeted with an after-party. Isobelle pushed the button on the wall to signal for the elevator up. The elevator dinged incessantly, then fell silent - the elevator appeared to be out of order. She and Mark flashed knowing smiles to each other; she preferred to walk anyway. They found the doorway leading to the fluorescent-lit stairwell, the cold air permeating from the concrete steps and steel handrails.

As they made for the first steps up, Isobelle noticed something peculiar in the corner of her eye. She turned and saw that a plain wooden door stood near her on this landing at the bottom of the stairs. It had eggshell-white paint that had faded, chipped through time, and was sitting slightly ajar. It felt so alien – she had been in this building so many times in the past, and yet had she ever noticed that misplaced door there before? Isobelle hesitated for a moment as she stared at this unusual door, curiosity beckoning at her like an old friend. She took a step closer to the door.

“Honey?” Mark asked her. Isobelle turned to him, who then said, “Time to go.”

“Of course, you’re right,” Isobelle said with a slight tremor in her voice. She joined her husband, and they ascended the stairs together. She had a feeling in her gut that she couldn’t explain, but she had this strange realization that, even though something is gone, doesn’t mean that it is lost. “Time to go,” she echoed to Mark, the mysterious doorway slipping further and further away.