It was 8:51 p.m. when the earth began to shake. Jonathan was in the kitchen scrolling through his wife’s phone, reading sweet words from a man he didn’t know. It started as a deep rumble, the sound like a warning before the jolt. The phone slipped from Jonathan’s hand as he gripped the counter, the screen a falling blur of emojis. Cupboards opened. Plates and bowls and glasses came to life, marching their way toward shelf edges. Then the first one fell. A water glass hitting the kitchen tile, exploding into a million little jewels. A plate was next. A salad bowl. The “World’s Greatest Dad” coffee mug from McKenna last Christmas. The handle snapping off and nicking his bare shin.
#
It was 8:51 p.m. when the earth began to shake. Lisa was in the bath, her hands below the bubbles, between her legs. Her eyes closed, thinking of his sweet words when she first heard the roar, like a judgement. The water, suddenly alive and violent, splashed out of the tub and slapped onto the bathroom tile. Lisa brought her knees to her chest and pressed a hand to the wall for balance. Water threw itself around the room, splashing up into her face, into her eyes. Bottles of shampoo and conditioner and body wash fell from the shower shelf above, glancing off her shoulders. The Pantene 2-in-1 hitting square across her forehead and nose.
#
It was 8:51 p.m. when the earth began to shake. McKenna was at her desk in her room. Logged onto ChatMeUp. Talking to DdyJames41. He had just told her he was coming to California when she heard the earth growl. The initial shove nearly knocked McKenna off her chair, but having practiced this many times in class, she knew what to do. She squeezed into the tight space below her desk, hands behind her neck, face between her knees. She began to cry. The side of the desk bounced against the knuckles of her spine while her room and her world fell all around her. Yearbooks and candles and stuffed bears and trust and soccer trophies.
#
It was 8:52 p.m. when the earth stopped shaking. Everything still, quiet as an epiphany. Jonathan’s feet were cut, a single line of blood down his shin. Lisa’s phone and the messages it held lay among the rubble like another broken plate fragment. The bathwater that was once warm now felt chilly against Lisa’s goose-pimpled skin, half her naked body now exposed. The bathroom floor and her clothes and the Pottery Barn rugs all saturated in lavender bath water. Lisa’s eyes stung and her head throbbed like penance. McKenna was still under her desk, was still crying. But she knew DdyJames41 was coming and he would know what to do, would know what to say. He always did.
And for several minutes, none of them moved. Completely still, statues cut from granite, replaying the violence of the earth, like a freight train that just ran through their house, through their lives. But even more so, they were waiting. Waiting for whatever came next. For each of them knew about aftershocks. And each of them knew that the aftershocks always threaten to be so much worse.
