Something of the Wave

I slowly opened my soft, delicate old eyes to the brightness of the summer light. I’m stiff as a log and my cough is worse than ever. It has been four weeks since that cough came. It’s making it harder for me to breathe. I’m pretty sure it’s going to kill me sooner or later. Ms. Moore entered my room without knocking, again. I know that I’m as old as the Titanic is, but I still need my respect and privacy. Ms. Moore took my temperature, gave me my breakfast, and read me the morning paper. I’m on the front page. Today is my 105th birthday.

          It took a few minutes, maybe an hour, for Ms. Moore to get me dressed for ‘the big day’. Afterwards, she wheeled me down to the central garden where everyone in the residence had been waiting for me. They made a feast in my honor, and had my favorite dessert, strawberry trifle. I sat still, eating my lunch, in my old wheel-chair while everyone was playing a game, making music, or doing what they do best, like painting, drawing, chess, etc. I’m the only paralyzed victim in this place we call home. But this is a different story. A young lady approached me, I’ve been working with her for a week or so and she’s trying to get my story. Today, I plan on telling her everything. I tell her a story, the only time I ever talk is when I’m with her. Everyone else thinks that I "lost" my voice. But I didn’t, I still have it. The woman arrived, she's sitting across from me, I began to talk and this is how I started my story:

"When I was born, my mother, Crista McLeod, knew right away that I was something special. Not because she was my mom, but just the way I looked into her eyes. My first five years were extravagant, I learned how to talk when I was 4 months old. My first steps were a few days after that. My memory span was much 'longer' than an adult back in my day. I was the smartest of the smart, the quickest of the quick, and the prettiest of the pretty. But of course, I had some downsides to being too smart, too fast, and too pretty. Being too smart in the early 1900’s, I didn’t have that much knowledge that a young lady, like you, has today. Being too fast got me some bad bullying by the older guys. They never caught me though. And me being too pretty, well, let’s just say I never had any friends, just people who were awfully jealous of me. Although, I did have one best friend in my life.

When I was turning five years old, a little girl named Madeline Spence, moved into my neighborhood. To be precise, I remember how I exactly met her. She was my next door neighbor, and my kitten, Muffin Cakes, ran into her house with his muddy feet and jumped on her. I ran after my kitten and ran into Madeline, her eyes were filled with tears and her white dress had small, muddy paw prints on them. I then knew she was going to be my best friend in the whole world. I have no clue why I did, but I was right. After that day we did everything together, from playground games to the chicken pox and from the first day of school to the summer nights. Everything was wonderful, until I found out that Madeline had a rare flu that caused her sudden death.

For weeks straight I did absolutely nothing. I got my mother to homeschool me while my father, Moses McLeod, was out on another one of his business trips. I wanted to stay home so I didn’t have to interact with kids my age. I even did house work instead of playing outside. Finally, my mother decided that we move, from Southampton to New York. It took us only a few days to pack everything in the house because we didn’t have much for a high-class family. I think the only reason why my mother wanted to go is because her and father had a huge fight before he took off on another business trip.

I slightly remember what the fight was about. It was about why I’m wasn't going to school at the time and how I have no friends because it was "my mother’s fault". Then, it was about how my mom spent too much money for my needs. She fought back, saying something about my father having an affair every time he’s on a ‘business trip’. Back then, I didn't know what it meant, but now I know better. It took minutes for my father to pack for another business trip. He said he going to be gone for a week’s time. She loved the idea that he’s taking off when the Titanic was scheduled to leave to New York the same week.

My mother took all of my father’s money and we ran to the boat and got to our cabin before my mother changed her mind. The boat was fantasizing, it was like magic. Everything was grand and I wore my best dress for every meal. The meals were fulfilling and delicious. Everything in that boat seemed gold, real gold. But, I was too young to know the difference. The first few days, everything was like a dream, but then the boat hit something. I was asleep, and then I fell off of my bed and onto the hard floor. A few minutes later, water started to flow into our room. My mother took me to a place where everyone was rubbing skin. It took a while, but, finally my mother and I set foot on a small row boat, people were yelling, screaming, falling out of the boat, and everything was out of control. But as soon as we got on the small boat, I fell right back to sleep. I don’t remember anything about the Titanic after that.

15 years later I had a son with my husband, Cory Plain. When my son, Mark McLeod, turned 3 years old, Cory died. No one knew how though. But I did. Anyways, my son is in an elder residence, but not this one. I refused for him to join me in this residence because I knew how they work here, I’ve been here for 40 years, and I hate it here. My son is now 84 years old and turning 85 in a few weeks. I’m worried that I won’t make it to his birthday, so I want you to tell him everything I told you, okay Justine." She replied back saying, “Of course Lavender, anything you want.”