The Party We Call Life
I can see my brother,
Steven, sorting through pebbles and shells to find something eye catching.
Steven is from my father’s first marriage and is a good eight years older than.
My mother still loved him as her own child and Steven loved her. I remember
these long days on the coast of Ireland. One time I found the most perfect
marble, green pebble I had ever seen. The whole of the Atlantic Ocean
compressed into a single stone. It later became a polished trinket on my most prized
and only jewelry piece, an earring. Steven always did things like that; he’d
find lost treasures and make them into beautiful creations. The earring
dangles, and along with the ocean’s pebble, my brother attached a piece of thin
flattened gold. As Steven presented it to me, he said, “Pippa, if yer golden
eyes get brighter than they ‘er now, that big ole light bulb in the sky will be
outta his job.” I was nine-years-old then, only two months away from that
destined night when our parents were murdered.
It’s a sunny school
day, the last school day of my high school career actually. Last days should be
happy ones, but I cannot muster tears of joy. I think of those last memorable
words my brother said to me. I take the earring from what was once our mother’s
jewelry box, pierce it through my right earlobe, silently cry and pray for strength,
if only for one more day. The tears stop. I stroke my mother’s pearl necklace
lying in the box. Then I close its screeching lid, stare at the rose carved into
it, and leave for school. This morning is no different from the past decade
since I was adopted into America.
Most everything
about me constantly reminds me of my ma. I have her curly, brown hair, golden
eyes; my uncle says I even acquired her laugh. They were all friends you know?
My ma, pa, and uncle all grew up in the same Irish village that both my brother
and I grew up in as well. I often listen to my uncle tell stories about all the
fun they had and trouble they got into; whether there was a difference between their
fun and trouble I couldn't tell.
My Uncle Sean is
the one who adopted me after my parents died. He was really close to my family
until he moved to America around the time I was born. Since my brother was too
young to take of me, they decided America would be better for me. He is a good
replacement father though. Uncle Sean’s a hard working carpenter, kind, understanding,
and very fair in judgment are some of his good features. I don’t know where he
got those from because my stern father, who played bag pipes for parades and
funerals, was practically the polar opposite to his brother. I wonder if Steven
and I are so different… We haven’t talked much since I left Ireland, but some
day he’ll come for me and we’ll be happy in Ireland once again.
Caitlyn is leaning
over my shoulder, asking, “Why are you still painting when it is the last day
of art class?” I can only reply with another question, “Is one permitted from
using a calculator on the last day of math class?” To which we both laugh
because we despise math.
As much as I love
my tall, blonde, athletic friend, she never can shut her gob. I was thinking
about my memories in Ireland, when my thought process is redirected toward my
friend who just asked the vague question, “So, Piper, will you go with me?” My
answer is a blank stare, then an instinctively drawn out but friendly, “Sure.”
Excited rambling resumed, and I soon found out that I just agreed to go to a party,
but not just a party, the legendary Graduation Party.
It’s safe to
assume that I have never been invited, nor thought of going, to a high school
party. I went to a friend’s birthday celebration when I was about twelve and
decided to never partake in any more after everyone laughed when I asked, in my
then profound Irish accent, where the bagpipes were. Children can be so cruel
and some never grow out of it.
I decided that I
should give up my fear of parties for a few reasons. First, my only friend
invited me because she needs me there for support so she can get with a fella
she likes that will be attending. Second, it is a graduation party and I am
graduating, it’s never too late to finally become acquainted with my peers. The
last and most important reason would be that I made a promise to Caitlyn, and
it isn't like my family or me to turn my back on a promise. My father always
said, “Life is not worth living without doing what’s right and honorable.”
What’s more honorable than keeping a promise to a great friend? Let’s hope
Uncle Sean feels the same.
Sitting on the front porch swing, I saw a few
familiar faces shuffling off their school bus across the street. The first one
to descend appears to be Grace Benitez. She’s a lovely girl with raven black
hair, tan skin, just turned eight, and now that it’s summertime she’ll be
wandering around the neighborhood in her princess costumes with her wand
granting the wishes of her friends and casting spells on her enemies turning
them into frogs. The frog spells would be directed toward the two boys that
followed her. They’re the youngest of the Carrington clan. A twelve-year-old
named Paul and a ten-year-old named Sam, two mischievous pranksters that take
every bit of Grace’s wrath as an accomplishment.
“Piper!” A sweet,
excited Grace exclaimed toward me as I waved. Grace sits beside me and clings
to my arm. She talks about her last day at school and about the Carrington
brothers chasing her at recess and pulling her hair on the bus. “Boys are dumb.
They better watch out this summer because I got a load of nasty spells for them
two.” I wish I were young again and only worried about such things. At eight I still
had everything.
When night came,
and supper was prepared, I figured out what I needed to say. “Today was my last
day of school Uncle Sean,” I began. “I have passed all of my classes and will
be graduating with honors. Isn't that good uncle?” Uncle Sean smiles at me to
signal his happiness. “Ye’re more and more like yer ma e’ryday. She was a whiz kid
herself, not like yer pa and I. Always proving us wrong with her books and her
philosophy.” He chuckles as he reminisced.
“Uncle Sean? I was
wondering, since I have done so well in my schooling, and haven’t disgraced you
in any way. Could I go to a party tomorrow night? It’s for the graduating
class. My friend Caitlyn invited me, and she has been my only true friend in
America, I wouldn't want to let her down. I assure you I will be responsible
and won’t do anything foolish.” He looked at me suspiciously and asked, “Why er
ye so interested in partying all a sudden?” I was shocked. Expecting a
straightforward yes or no, as usual, I forgot to answer him. “Aye? What is it?
A fella? I was a teenager once; I understand what happens at those things. My
answer is nay.”
As I try to explain
further, he silences me and says, “Pippa, I know you are a responsible young
lass, but the American teenagers are no different from Irish blokes. And we both
know what they are capable of doing.” With that I excused myself, retreating quietly
to my room.
My parents were
murdered by a group of teenagers ten years since. They were out late for a
walk, which was rare. The gang of fluthered, bold teens surprised them and
demanded money. My parents’ coins were not enough for all of them, and so they
decided in their drunken stupor to shoot my mother and father. I really wish he
hadn't reminded me of what people are capable of doing.
My uncle knocks at
the door and I tell him to enter. “I was just on the phone with Sarah and John
Benitez. They asked if it would be alright that you babysit Grace for them
tomorrow night. I decided for you, and you are doing it.” We start arguing
about how he can’t decide things for me and he can’t protect me from
everything. “I don’t want to hear your guff. I am your uncle, and your parents
wouldn't have wanted you to go to that party either…” I interrupted him, “You
don’t care.. You left my parents, you left all of us. My brother is coming back
for me and when he does we’ll go to Ireland and you’ll never see us again.
It’ll be just like before and you won’t have to worry about me ever.” I caught
him staring at something on my dresser. He could be staring at nothing, but it
looks like my mother’s box. He looked back at me again. Defeated, he said
goodnight, and left.
I decided to call
Caitlyn and tell her I can’t go because my uncle is being an arse. She was very
disappointed. “Why don’t you sneak out? I do it all the time and if you get
caught what is he going to do? Send you back to Ireland?” We both chuckled at
that. I replied, “If only, Caitie-Did. He’s making me babysit the neighbor
girl.” We both thought, if only there were a way to babysit and go to the party
at the same time. Where there is a will, there is a way!
Night has come
again, and I pace around the Benitez’s kitchen. I wonder about the exciting,
new things awaiting me. Maybe I’ll start liking parties again. There’s a knock at
the back door. It’s Paul and Sam Carrington, just the two boys I was hoping
for. I remind them of our deal. Don’t wake up Grace, don’t destroy the house,
don’t answer the door, and they’ll be paid forty dollars, twenty each. I
wouldn't be gone too long anyway, just long enough for Caitlyn to get comfortable.
Then my promise will be full-filled.
I drove us both to
the party. Loudness and chaos is my description of this house party, but
Caitlyn is still excited. Isn't that life though; it’s loud and chaotic, but
yet people live and some thrive in it. We found the lad that she fancies, they
went off to talk, and I was left alone. Maybe I wasn't so important in
Caitlyn’s plan. I sent her a text message saying I need to relieve my temporary
babysitters and to call me when she wants to go home.
Perhaps I could
have lived without going, but I played my part and feel much better. I turned
the corner heading back into town and I see a couple cars alongside the road. The
first one I didn't recognize right away, but the other is an oddly familiar
blue car. The blue car I saw leaving the party a half hour before I did was
smashed in the front and the boy in the driver’s seat was moaning. I called the
police. After I talked to them for a while I went down in the ditch to check on
the other vehicle. My heart sank to my feet. It was Uncle Sean’s truck… I hurried
to the driver’s side but no one was inside. Then I heard a deep, agonizing moan
and found his motionless form lying in the grass.
My cell phone dropped to the ground. "Uncle Sean,
what happened? What are you doing out so late? Are you hurt?” I didn't have to
ask the last question. In the moonlight I could see the thick wet blotch on the
top of his head that could only be blood, and his body, mangled. “ Piper? Were you in that car? Are
you alright?” I began to cry, I cried for a long time. Before I could say anything, he went on talking,
“The car swerved out of nowhere Mary. “ Mary? That’s my mother’s name, he must be
hallucinating. “I was heading to find ‘er Mary. She wanted to go to that party
so bad and she’s so smart that I knew she’d find a way to get there. After I
found her car gone, I almost had to beat information outta them Carrington brothers.
They remind me so much of me and Pete when we were young. I miss those days
Mary. Don’t you?” Still sobbing, I nodded.
“Uncle Sean, stay
awake!” I patted him on the cheek, and he opened his eyes to continue rambling. “I
remember you always liked roses so I carved one into the wooden jewelry box I
made for you. I saw it recently somewhere, in my dreams… We loved each other so
much didn't we? I’m sorry I left you and our Pippa.” Our Pippa?...“ I wanted to
be there for you and our daughter... I needed to go to America though. Ireland
wasn't for me... you knew that, but you wouldn't come. You loved that island.
Piper loves it too.” He’s starting to cough and shake really bad now, where is
the ambulance?
“Besides, I always
said Peter made the better husband and father. Remember when he’d say, ‘Life is
not worth living without doing what’s right and honorable’? I didn't
take it as seriously as I should have. Now I know what he meant, life is not
worth living if you don’t do what’s right and honorable to your heart. That’s
why I’m sorry Mary. I was too scared of my heart, scared of a life with you and
Piper. She came back to me though. She is my second chance to live.”
Soon, all he could
do was cough. Then his eyes started to close. “No, please stay awake, keep talking to
me… Da.” That caught his attention. “Pippa? What did you say?” I couldn't say
it again. “You must not close your eyes Uncle Sean.” His eyes were fluttering,
and in a hopeful voice, he said, “ You know I love you Pippa.” I replied silently,
“I love you, da…” And just like that he was gone. My father was lying in my
arms, cold and lifeless, as flashing lights engulfed us.
Two months later, I
stood at my bedroom window, peering out of it for the last time. My brother
finally contacted me and I will shortly be on my way to Ireland to meet him and
his family. I’ll miss America I suppose. The children will be the most missed.
Grace and the Carrington brothers are playing outside now, singing Ring Around
the Rosie loudly. They do as children do; hold hands, spin around in circles,
and fall down laughing. I am sure that my father, mother, and uncle are doing
the same right now in Heaven.
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