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The Earthquake
- University of Wisconsin Press
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It started out like a normal day, says Elia Palacios Cano. My husband woke up before me; he had a business breakfast at eight. Then I got up and went into my daughter’s room. I took out her school uniform, laid it on her bed, and went to the kitchen to make a fruit salad. “Wake up, gorda, your friend’s already out the door!” We lived in an apartment building on Bruselas and Liverpool: Bruselas 8, apartment 5, second floor. Our neighbors from apartment 3 had just left. “Coming, Ma, just putting my shoes on!” I was about to rinse a glass and I felt nauseous. “It’s shaking,” I said aloud, and then I thought, why am I saying that and watching the lightbulb swing up and down. “It’s an earthquake,” I said. I yelled out to my daughter, “An earthquake!” “Yes, Ma,” she said and came close to me. My son was still asleep, and I carried him in my arms to the door. Enrique, my husband, ran out of the bathroom and grabbed Leslie’s hand, then tried to undo the top lock and the lower one. He kept dropping the keys, picking them up, and at last he opened it. The door started banging violently from side to side, so I said, “We can’t go out, we’d be thrown down the stairs,” and I looked out the window . The building across the street was swaying like you’ve never seen, 237 The Earthquake crashing into the one next to it, and this enormous crack opened up in our living room wall. “This is a major earthquake.” I thought of my mother, who lives in Colonia Obrera in a very old and broken-down house, then I felt myself falling and shouted, “Enrique, the girl!” Mom, You’re Squashing Me, It Hurts It was so quick. I landed on my left arm and my chin because I had Quique under my right. I didn’t want to fall on him, that’s why I stuck my chin out. When we stopped falling the child said to me, “Mom, you’re squashing me, it hurts.” “Get out then, quick,” I said, and pulled him out from under me. I tried to sit up, but my left arm was trapped. I felt Quique over and asked him if anything hurt. “It’s all dark,” he says. “Yes sweetheart, the lights went out, just stay where you are.” I looked for my husband, feeling around in the dark and found his head: “Enrique , say something.” He didn’t answer. I felt his pulse; nothing. I shook him; nothing. He was dead. Since I couldn’t sit or stand, I remained face down on the floor. I realized what was happening; I had to stay very calm and keep a grip on myself . I tried to picture which part of the roof had collapsed, or which wall, but it was too dark. I groped around for my daughter. I called her, “Leslie , Leslie!” and when there was no reply I told myself it was for the best, she’d died an instant death, she hadn’t suffered. I touched my husband again, his head was bleeding; I took his pulse again but no, no, no, no, no. I couldn’t be the only one trapped in the building. I had to be alert in case someone came to rescue us, then I told myself again: “I have to keep calm,” so I don’t use up all the oxygen in this space we were caught in. I wonder what happened to my mother’s house. Right now, everyone must be looking for their relatives, and since I haven’t phoned them, they’ll come looking for me, and when they see the building has collapsed they’ll get me out. “At least I hope so,” I thought. Help Me, Help Me After ten or fifteen minutes I heard someone calling for help: “Help me, help me,” they said. I started up as well, “Help me, help me!” it was probably someone else from my building who was trapped, but it was 238 [44.222.212.138] Project MUSE (2024-03-28 20:20 GMT) useless. I couldn’t help him and he couldn’t help me, so I called over, “Calm down, they’re going to get us out, don’t waste the oxygen.” After a while I heard voices, a man and a woman asking...