Status: Done
How Old Is Too Old?
1/1
“Mr. Shea?” Caroline’s voice broke into Patrick’s silent office. “Mr. Shea? Are you crying?” The slim receptionist stared at her boss in a dashing suit at only twenty-five years old crying silent tears behind his big man desk. “Mr. Shea?” she asked again, but Patrick was farther away than she could reach him.
***
“Mr. Shea?” Patrick turned to see Lilia, the house maid, at his bedroom door.
“Yes Lilia?” He asked and went back to struggling to tie his tie. Lila smiled and went over to him.
“Here Mr. Shea, let me help you.” Her soft Spanish accent was one Patrick had grown fond of over the years. Lilia took hold of his blue tie and fixed it. “I was just checking to make sure you were up.”
“I am, but I don’t want to be.” Sighed Patrick, as he smoothed out his tie and put on his suit jacket. “Dressing up in a monkey suit gets tiring, how in the world does my father do it?”
“He is a very honorable man, Patrick. He works hard for you.” Lilia smiled softly at the young boy.
“No doubt, he works so hard he is never home.”
“Oh, Patrick.” Lilia looked at him intensely “Your father loves you very much, he’s just simply a very busy man.”
“I understand.” Patrick nodded and looked into the mirror he’d been facing the whole time.
“Patrick, lighten up, sometimes you speak like you belong in the corporate world with your father.” Lilia’s eyes were filled with pride as she watched him.
“One day, Lilia, I will.” He sighed and turned away. “Well I best be going now, wouldn’t want to be late today.”
“Buena Suerte, niño pequeño.” She smiled.
“Gracias, y no estoy poco más.” Patrick smiled back. His fluency in Spanish was all because of Lilia.
“I know Niño, I know. Sometimes I wish you still were.” She smiled and handed him his car keys. “I thought maybe you’d like to drive yourself today, Niño.”
“Thanks.” Patrick took the keys and kissed her on the cheek. There was no use in goodbyes; he’d see her within a few months. He walked out of his room and to the garage. The sleek black car was his, he didn’t care to know the make and model because to Patrick, a car was a car. He got in and drove past the driver who’d been waiting for him and away from the huge mansion, complete with hedge animals, down the long tree lined driveway. He drove down the beautiful scenic route in Washington, along the coast line, and soon found himself taking the exit toward the airport. His phone rang right as he got the airport parking lot.
“Patrick.” A stern voice greeted him before he could say hello.
“Father?” Patrick answered calmly.
“Why didn’t you take the car I had ready for you?”
“I wanted to drive myself…” Patrick began but never got to finish.
“Yes, but now your car will be sitting in a filthy parking lot for months. I’ll send Phil to pick it up for you. Leave your keys at the counter where Shirley works, you do know where her office is?”
“Yes father.” He sighed and got out of the car.
“You’re lucky you didn’t have to check bags Patrick or you’d be late for your flight.”
“Agreed sir, thank you for sending them ahead.” Patrick locked the car doors and began walking toward the doors of the airport.
“Now, no getting in trouble. You have that huge scholarship awaiting you for Harvard if you keep your grades up. Good luck.”
“Yes fath…” he began but the sound of a deadened line met his ear. Patrick stood on the sidewalk for a moment, imagining his father’s last words to him could have been, ‘I’m proud of you son, keep up the good work.’ Or something along those lines. He took a deep breath and continued on.
“Patrick?”Shirley’s voice was high and nasally, so annoying that Patrick could hardly bear it.
“Ms. Glaren, my father asked me to leave my car keys with you until Phil can pick them up.” He handed them over to the surprised short woman who looked quite bit like a vertically challenged Dolly Parton.
“Oh, I wasn’t aware of these plans. Where on Earth are you headed, Patrick? You look quite nice.”
“A private all boys school in Canada, actually. My father’s idea. He wants to make sure there are no distractions from my education.”
“Oh, well, that seems so far, why Canada?”
“It just happens to be where the school is located, Ms. Glaren. I must be going or I’ll miss my plane.”
“Oh, ok good bye Patrick.” She smiled, but it was a cardboard one. “Oh and Patrick?” she called to him as he walked away. “Is your father going to be in town anytime soon?” the curiosity on her face held some sort of hope, a fancy, to the idea. Patrick was amused but also slightly disgusted.
“I’m afraid not.” He flashed his smile and walked away.
Finding his terminal was easier than he thought. The flight was delayed so he was stuck reading an old book he’d brought with him. Patrick cherished the book, it was one given to him by his father, so of course it was on politics. Still, he loved it. The short flight was long enough for him to finish the book, but short enough for him to not become fatigued.
“Mr. Shea?” a voice called out to him through the small amount of people outside of customs.
“That would be me.” He smiled and shook the man’s hand. He was an older man but still of enough age that he couldn’t be considered elderly. His hair was salt and pepper and eyes expectant.
“Hello, I’m counselor Marlow, from St.George’s School for Boys.”
“Ahh, yes. I’m very looking forward to attending this year.” Charm and Charisma, smile and laugh.
“Yes, I’m here to take you there. Then the big man in charge would like to speak with you. Your interview over the summer was quite extraordinary, along with your written works, but I guess you must talk schedules?”
“I believe so.” He nodded and followed Marlow to a car. The drive was short, the wait was long before he met with the head master of the school.
“Patrick Joseph Shea.” The tall man welcomed him.
“Sir.” They shook hands and he beckoned Patrick to sit.
“So, I see you have here some amazing transcripts. What brings you to St. George’s?”
“Well I am looking to continue my education in the best possible way I can, your school seems to be a place that excels in that.”
“In that we do, Mr. Shea.” He sat back in his chair and observed the young man. “Only sixteen and you didn’t put up a fight to go to an all boy’s school?”
“Most definitely not, sir.”
“You have a girl at home, Mr. Shea?”
“No, sir, and I don’t understand what these questions have to do with my enrollment.”
“They don’t, it’s just basics Mr. Shea. Many of the boys here are either so academically involved they never see the light of day, perhaps having a reason to hide behind a stack of books, or they are here because of other pretenses. Parents, expectations, the family tree and so forth. If I may ask, in your case it would be the latter?”
“No, sir, my father only suggested I look into a better education system, I was not forced.”
“Indeed… Mr. Shea I must ask you, what do you…” But he was cut off.
“Excuse me, Dr. Lile, your daughter is…” suddenly a little thing pushed through the door and ran for the man behind the desk.
“Daddy, it’s the most horrible thing I’ve got to tell you!”
“Sweet heart, Daddy’s kind of busy right now. I’m interviewing a student.” The little girl looked to Patrick. Her dark eyes matched her father but her light hair looked nowhere in place on him.
“Oh…I’m very sorry.” She blushed a deep pink. “May I just sit in the back?”
“Sure.” He smiled at her then turned to Patrick. “You don’t mind do you?” he inquired.
“Not at all.” Patrick found himself smiling at the small intrusion.
“As I was saying, I must ask you…” the phone on his desk rang. “Well now, for heaven’s sake!”
“Go ahead, sir.” Patrick nodded towards the phone.
“I do apologize, but this is an important call. I’ll take it in the next room. I’ll be right back.”
“No problem, sir.” Patrick nodded and watched him leave the room. He sat in silence for a moment, looking at the cherry wood bookcases lined with volumes all around the room. The awards and certificated that adorned the walls.
“How old are you?” a quiet voice from the back asked. Patrick turned to see the small girl sitting, watching him.
“Sixteen, you?”
“Oh, I’m twelve.” She murmured looking to her feet. She looked back up at Patrick, her head cocked to the side. “What color is your hair?”
“It’s kind of odd isn’t it?” he laughed a little. “My mother always told me it was ‘a special shade of auburn’. I consider is kind of a red or strawberry blonde.”
“It’s pretty.” She smiled. “I’m Sarah.” She held out her small hand.
“Patrick Shea.” He took it in his own. He noticed a single silver band around her middle finger. “What’s that?”
“Oh, it’s my mom’s ring. Her engagement one. She liked simple thing.”
“So did my mom.” Patrick smiled at this small little girl.
“She’s gone now, but it’s ok.” She watched him, her smile filled his mind with the idea of happiness.
“Mine too.”
“So, Patrick Shea, why are you here?”
“To go to school here.” He answered simply.
“I don’t believe you.” She sat back and watched him
“And why not?”
“I can tell your running from something.”
“Oh am I?” he chuckled at her confidence.
“Yes.”
“How do you know?” he challenged her.
“Because you’re just like me.” She countered.
From that moment on Patrick was captivated by this little girl. The head master’s daughter. It turned out she got ‘home schooled’ in their small home at the edge of the school. Patrick laughed at her stories of the younger boys hitting on her and how she hated it. Every Valentine’s Day she got tons of things, and every Valentine’s Day some homeless people felt loved. She was four years younger than him, and he felt protective of her. When she cried to him his junior year about the first boy to break her heart, he cornered him in the hall for a talk. When he told Sarah of the rowdy girls who showed up at some of the day student’s parties he was invited too, she’d scoff and call them Barbies. Sarah became Patrick’s first real friend. She was also the first one to make him feel loved.
“Patrick?” she asked him one day two years later, as they were walking down the steps of the school’s library.
“Sarah?” he asked back.
“How old is too old?”
“What’d you mean?” he looked at her.
“I mean…” She stopped walking and looked down. “Am I allowed to like a Senior?”
“Is it Tyler?” he watched her, hoping it wasn’t the trouble making senior she had been asking him about weeks before after seeing them talking.
“No.” she looked at him. The now 15 year old looked at the 18 year old Patrick.
“Who then?” he asked sincerely curious. Sarah’s response was one not expected, she wrapped her arms around Patrick’s neck and hugged him. The question was answered with no words said. Sarah let go and went to leave in a hurry, face red and heart beat loud enough for the world to hear. Before she could get too far Patrick caught her hand with one finger, pulling her back towards him. His smile was wide and her face was red enough to match the autumn leaves. “I’m not too old for you.”
***
Patrick’s face slowly broke into a smile. Caroline watched him carefully.
“Is everything alright Mr. Shea?” she asked him tentatively. Patrick smiled and finally addressed her.
“Yes, Caroline, everything is great.”
“Are you sure?”
“Completely.” He smile and politely told Caroline to leave. He looked at his laptop once more at the email he had just received.
From: Sarah Lile
Subject: RE: How young is too young
Date: Thur. September 22nd
To: Patrick Shea
Message:
Yes Patrick, I will marry you. I’m not too young for you. Love knows no boundaries.
----------------------Original Message-------------------------------
From: Patrick Shea
Sent: Thur. September 22nd
To: Sarah Lile
Subject: How young is too young
Sarah-
Do you remember how we met? I love you very much but how young is too young? Are you too young to marry me?
***
“Mr. Shea?” Patrick turned to see Lilia, the house maid, at his bedroom door.
“Yes Lilia?” He asked and went back to struggling to tie his tie. Lila smiled and went over to him.
“Here Mr. Shea, let me help you.” Her soft Spanish accent was one Patrick had grown fond of over the years. Lilia took hold of his blue tie and fixed it. “I was just checking to make sure you were up.”
“I am, but I don’t want to be.” Sighed Patrick, as he smoothed out his tie and put on his suit jacket. “Dressing up in a monkey suit gets tiring, how in the world does my father do it?”
“He is a very honorable man, Patrick. He works hard for you.” Lilia smiled softly at the young boy.
“No doubt, he works so hard he is never home.”
“Oh, Patrick.” Lilia looked at him intensely “Your father loves you very much, he’s just simply a very busy man.”
“I understand.” Patrick nodded and looked into the mirror he’d been facing the whole time.
“Patrick, lighten up, sometimes you speak like you belong in the corporate world with your father.” Lilia’s eyes were filled with pride as she watched him.
“One day, Lilia, I will.” He sighed and turned away. “Well I best be going now, wouldn’t want to be late today.”
“Buena Suerte, niño pequeño.” She smiled.
“Gracias, y no estoy poco más.” Patrick smiled back. His fluency in Spanish was all because of Lilia.
“I know Niño, I know. Sometimes I wish you still were.” She smiled and handed him his car keys. “I thought maybe you’d like to drive yourself today, Niño.”
“Thanks.” Patrick took the keys and kissed her on the cheek. There was no use in goodbyes; he’d see her within a few months. He walked out of his room and to the garage. The sleek black car was his, he didn’t care to know the make and model because to Patrick, a car was a car. He got in and drove past the driver who’d been waiting for him and away from the huge mansion, complete with hedge animals, down the long tree lined driveway. He drove down the beautiful scenic route in Washington, along the coast line, and soon found himself taking the exit toward the airport. His phone rang right as he got the airport parking lot.
“Patrick.” A stern voice greeted him before he could say hello.
“Father?” Patrick answered calmly.
“Why didn’t you take the car I had ready for you?”
“I wanted to drive myself…” Patrick began but never got to finish.
“Yes, but now your car will be sitting in a filthy parking lot for months. I’ll send Phil to pick it up for you. Leave your keys at the counter where Shirley works, you do know where her office is?”
“Yes father.” He sighed and got out of the car.
“You’re lucky you didn’t have to check bags Patrick or you’d be late for your flight.”
“Agreed sir, thank you for sending them ahead.” Patrick locked the car doors and began walking toward the doors of the airport.
“Now, no getting in trouble. You have that huge scholarship awaiting you for Harvard if you keep your grades up. Good luck.”
“Yes fath…” he began but the sound of a deadened line met his ear. Patrick stood on the sidewalk for a moment, imagining his father’s last words to him could have been, ‘I’m proud of you son, keep up the good work.’ Or something along those lines. He took a deep breath and continued on.
“Patrick?”Shirley’s voice was high and nasally, so annoying that Patrick could hardly bear it.
“Ms. Glaren, my father asked me to leave my car keys with you until Phil can pick them up.” He handed them over to the surprised short woman who looked quite bit like a vertically challenged Dolly Parton.
“Oh, I wasn’t aware of these plans. Where on Earth are you headed, Patrick? You look quite nice.”
“A private all boys school in Canada, actually. My father’s idea. He wants to make sure there are no distractions from my education.”
“Oh, well, that seems so far, why Canada?”
“It just happens to be where the school is located, Ms. Glaren. I must be going or I’ll miss my plane.”
“Oh, ok good bye Patrick.” She smiled, but it was a cardboard one. “Oh and Patrick?” she called to him as he walked away. “Is your father going to be in town anytime soon?” the curiosity on her face held some sort of hope, a fancy, to the idea. Patrick was amused but also slightly disgusted.
“I’m afraid not.” He flashed his smile and walked away.
Finding his terminal was easier than he thought. The flight was delayed so he was stuck reading an old book he’d brought with him. Patrick cherished the book, it was one given to him by his father, so of course it was on politics. Still, he loved it. The short flight was long enough for him to finish the book, but short enough for him to not become fatigued.
“Mr. Shea?” a voice called out to him through the small amount of people outside of customs.
“That would be me.” He smiled and shook the man’s hand. He was an older man but still of enough age that he couldn’t be considered elderly. His hair was salt and pepper and eyes expectant.
“Hello, I’m counselor Marlow, from St.George’s School for Boys.”
“Ahh, yes. I’m very looking forward to attending this year.” Charm and Charisma, smile and laugh.
“Yes, I’m here to take you there. Then the big man in charge would like to speak with you. Your interview over the summer was quite extraordinary, along with your written works, but I guess you must talk schedules?”
“I believe so.” He nodded and followed Marlow to a car. The drive was short, the wait was long before he met with the head master of the school.
“Patrick Joseph Shea.” The tall man welcomed him.
“Sir.” They shook hands and he beckoned Patrick to sit.
“So, I see you have here some amazing transcripts. What brings you to St. George’s?”
“Well I am looking to continue my education in the best possible way I can, your school seems to be a place that excels in that.”
“In that we do, Mr. Shea.” He sat back in his chair and observed the young man. “Only sixteen and you didn’t put up a fight to go to an all boy’s school?”
“Most definitely not, sir.”
“You have a girl at home, Mr. Shea?”
“No, sir, and I don’t understand what these questions have to do with my enrollment.”
“They don’t, it’s just basics Mr. Shea. Many of the boys here are either so academically involved they never see the light of day, perhaps having a reason to hide behind a stack of books, or they are here because of other pretenses. Parents, expectations, the family tree and so forth. If I may ask, in your case it would be the latter?”
“No, sir, my father only suggested I look into a better education system, I was not forced.”
“Indeed… Mr. Shea I must ask you, what do you…” But he was cut off.
“Excuse me, Dr. Lile, your daughter is…” suddenly a little thing pushed through the door and ran for the man behind the desk.
“Daddy, it’s the most horrible thing I’ve got to tell you!”
“Sweet heart, Daddy’s kind of busy right now. I’m interviewing a student.” The little girl looked to Patrick. Her dark eyes matched her father but her light hair looked nowhere in place on him.
“Oh…I’m very sorry.” She blushed a deep pink. “May I just sit in the back?”
“Sure.” He smiled at her then turned to Patrick. “You don’t mind do you?” he inquired.
“Not at all.” Patrick found himself smiling at the small intrusion.
“As I was saying, I must ask you…” the phone on his desk rang. “Well now, for heaven’s sake!”
“Go ahead, sir.” Patrick nodded towards the phone.
“I do apologize, but this is an important call. I’ll take it in the next room. I’ll be right back.”
“No problem, sir.” Patrick nodded and watched him leave the room. He sat in silence for a moment, looking at the cherry wood bookcases lined with volumes all around the room. The awards and certificated that adorned the walls.
“How old are you?” a quiet voice from the back asked. Patrick turned to see the small girl sitting, watching him.
“Sixteen, you?”
“Oh, I’m twelve.” She murmured looking to her feet. She looked back up at Patrick, her head cocked to the side. “What color is your hair?”
“It’s kind of odd isn’t it?” he laughed a little. “My mother always told me it was ‘a special shade of auburn’. I consider is kind of a red or strawberry blonde.”
“It’s pretty.” She smiled. “I’m Sarah.” She held out her small hand.
“Patrick Shea.” He took it in his own. He noticed a single silver band around her middle finger. “What’s that?”
“Oh, it’s my mom’s ring. Her engagement one. She liked simple thing.”
“So did my mom.” Patrick smiled at this small little girl.
“She’s gone now, but it’s ok.” She watched him, her smile filled his mind with the idea of happiness.
“Mine too.”
“So, Patrick Shea, why are you here?”
“To go to school here.” He answered simply.
“I don’t believe you.” She sat back and watched him
“And why not?”
“I can tell your running from something.”
“Oh am I?” he chuckled at her confidence.
“Yes.”
“How do you know?” he challenged her.
“Because you’re just like me.” She countered.
From that moment on Patrick was captivated by this little girl. The head master’s daughter. It turned out she got ‘home schooled’ in their small home at the edge of the school. Patrick laughed at her stories of the younger boys hitting on her and how she hated it. Every Valentine’s Day she got tons of things, and every Valentine’s Day some homeless people felt loved. She was four years younger than him, and he felt protective of her. When she cried to him his junior year about the first boy to break her heart, he cornered him in the hall for a talk. When he told Sarah of the rowdy girls who showed up at some of the day student’s parties he was invited too, she’d scoff and call them Barbies. Sarah became Patrick’s first real friend. She was also the first one to make him feel loved.
“Patrick?” she asked him one day two years later, as they were walking down the steps of the school’s library.
“Sarah?” he asked back.
“How old is too old?”
“What’d you mean?” he looked at her.
“I mean…” She stopped walking and looked down. “Am I allowed to like a Senior?”
“Is it Tyler?” he watched her, hoping it wasn’t the trouble making senior she had been asking him about weeks before after seeing them talking.
“No.” she looked at him. The now 15 year old looked at the 18 year old Patrick.
“Who then?” he asked sincerely curious. Sarah’s response was one not expected, she wrapped her arms around Patrick’s neck and hugged him. The question was answered with no words said. Sarah let go and went to leave in a hurry, face red and heart beat loud enough for the world to hear. Before she could get too far Patrick caught her hand with one finger, pulling her back towards him. His smile was wide and her face was red enough to match the autumn leaves. “I’m not too old for you.”
***
Patrick’s face slowly broke into a smile. Caroline watched him carefully.
“Is everything alright Mr. Shea?” she asked him tentatively. Patrick smiled and finally addressed her.
“Yes, Caroline, everything is great.”
“Are you sure?”
“Completely.” He smile and politely told Caroline to leave. He looked at his laptop once more at the email he had just received.
From: Sarah Lile
Subject: RE: How young is too young
Date: Thur. September 22nd
To: Patrick Shea
Message:
Yes Patrick, I will marry you. I’m not too young for you. Love knows no boundaries.
----------------------Original Message-------------------------------
From: Patrick Shea
Sent: Thur. September 22nd
To: Sarah Lile
Subject: How young is too young
Sarah-
Do you remember how we met? I love you very much but how young is too young? Are you too young to marry me?
♠ ♠ ♠
sorry if theres lots of mistakes...