Irene Liddowe
August 02, 2009 3:24 PM
Oh, Irony, why can’t we seem to keep it together? by Irene Liddowe
Irene was usually in a good mood after DADA. In fact, today she was in a great mood for no particular reason. She entered the Pecari Common Room having every intention of finding someone she could bask in the goodness of the day with. Her blue-green eyes scanned the room, but rather than finding a fellow Pecari, she found Machu Pichu sitting at the window amongst the powdery snow. Irene’s eyebrows furrowed, wondering what the bird could have for her. Uncle Mike wasn’t usually one to write more than twice in two weeks. She smiled to herself, realization occurring to her. Uncle Mike usually started to miss her and the Warrens more and more around the holidays. She didn’t mind spending some time reminding him she would be home in a week. Irene made her way to the window and held out her hand. The letter dropped into her outstretched palm. Pichu, mission having been accomplished, took the sky once more.Irene, smiling softly to herself, dropped onto the common’s couch, crossing her legs underneath her. She opened up the folded parchment, looking forward to hearing what Uncle Mike might have to say. Hearing from him was only improving her good day so far. Her eyes drifted down to the scrawled handwriting, but as she read her smile began to fade, the glimmer in her eyes following its lead.
Hey Irene,
How’s school? You still keeping up with your work? There’s a reason I’m writing and it’s not exactly easy to say. You know I hate being the bearer of bad news. You’re such a great kid, Irene. You’re getting so old so fast. It’s been… nine years since you’ve lived with me? It doesn’t seem any more than a few months. You’ve gotten so much older in that time though. I mean, you’re all tall now and you’re going to be sixteen in May! Sixteen, Irene! That’s crazy! I just wanted to say how proud I am of you and what a strong girl you’ve grown to be.
Yesterday I got a letter from the police department. There was an accident on a highway two days ago at about one AM. The two cars were pretty smashed. It looked like one of the drivers was drunk. Your dad was one of the men in the accident, but he wasn’t the drunk driver. The police said he was completely clean. Irene gulped down air, her mind numb, but engulfed in chaos at the same time. He was talking like Dad was… He was in the hospital or something. Dad wouldn’t be killed by a drunk driver. The thought was simply too haunting.
He had a list with him that said… I’ll just send it with this. Irene, your dad didn’t make it. The car was hit pretty badly. The driver is in the hospital but they think he’ll be okay. Write me back, okay kid? I want to hear from you. If I don’t hear from you then I’m going over there and bringing you home early. I don’t really know what to say. You guys might not have gotten on so well, but he was still your dad. It’s going to be okay. I’m here if you need anything, and I mean that. If you want to come home early we’ll make it happen.
I love you, write back please,
Uncle Mike
Irene felt like she was speeding away from the room, like everything had collapsed and it was only she in the room. She felt panicked, frantic for answers. How could he have died? There was just no way that was fair. She had just heard from him! He had written to her! He had been clean for six months and he wanted to catch up some time… Irene’s chest felt like it was crushing her. Tears were crashing into her lap as she struggled to breathe, yet she wasn’t quite crying. She couldn’t breathe… Was she being emotional? She hadn’t even known him that well! He was her Dad but they had never been exactly… Irene gulped down the urge to sob. Questions were multiplying in her mind, making it feel as if everything was closing in on her, yet falling apart. She had thought that maybe they could try to patch things up. He had been sober by his own accord and had expressed every interest in wanting to make up for his mistakes. Irene pulled the other piece of paper towards her, her hands moving in slow motion, feeling like she needed to see the words, but not sure she wanted to know what answers it held.
To Do:
Talk to her- get her back? Don’t f*** up.
Visit
The wave of information that fell upon her was even more crushing than the actual news. He had been on his way to see her. Irene felt her insides churning with rage and sorrow and guilt, the list crumpled in her grip. Dad had been so close to turning his life around and some drunk took it from him. Drinking had killed him, just not in the way she would have thought it would and Irene knew it was her fault. Why had she moved again? It wasn’t like she couldn’t have dealt with a bit of pain for a few more years. She could have stayed and he would have never been on the road to go see her… She could barely catch her breath… Irene tried to get herself under control, burying her head in her knees. Maybe it would look like she was sleeping if she could just stop shaking... Her Dad was dead, just like Mom. She was miles away from comfort, no matter how much she wanted it. What a horrible feeling, to be orphaned.
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Irene Liddowe
Oh, Irony, why can’t we seem to keep it together?
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Irene Liddowe
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