Life is Beautiful

“Next stop,” the bus driver shouted through the intercom. “Lakeview, Massachusetts!”

Even after we left Boston, my eyes never left the towering skyscrapers as the bus rolled toward the country. Crowded streets and backed up automobiles were soon replaced with trees and valleys, unclaimed land and near-empty roads. The air was crisper and lacked the usual smog I had grown used to waking to, and the lack of people in the area was almost frightening. Next to me, my mother was staring into the compact mirror she was trying to hide in her lap. Once in awhile, I could see her touch her skin, of which used to be beautiful and clear of blemishes and scars alike. Her fingers would trace every contour that lined her face, before covering her blue eyes and sobbing inaudibly in her palms. Just watching her made me feel weak, because I knew I couldn’t help her. I wouldn’t even know where to begin or what to do; even if we both lost, the relationship was a bit different. Love, of course, but with the difference of blood and water. However, when I peered up to see many of the other occupants staring at my mother’s broken form, my lips parted and I spoke to her.

I whispered, “Mamma…” The woman shook her head and continued to weep. “Mamma, please…” Again, she shook her head, her petite body quivering from the sobs. When it became too much to hear her cry, I grabbed her chin and forced her to look at me, and me to look at her. I had to bite my lip to keep from letting tears fall from my own eyes, and noticing this, my mother held me to her and cried, saying everything was going to be alright.

A few weeks ago, our apartment had been set on fire. The whole building, starting from the top to bottom, had been put ablaze, lighting up the whole street corner as if it were the sun. According to officials, it had been an act of arson, one meant as a suicide attempt of the man one floor above our room. By the end of the night, when all that was left was the first floor under a pile of rubble, the mortality count was made: three deaths. The first was the man who started the fire, the second an old lady just above his room, and the third was my father. Many other people had receive significant burns, such as my mother who’s face was half burnt and scarred, while there were others who hadn’t been burned at all. I was somewhere in the middle, with scars and burn marks forever branded on my ankles and arms. But I was lucky; at least my face was still intact. At least I had made it out alive.

While the doctors claimed my mind had locked away the events of that night (“An effect of post-traumatic stress,” they had said), images burned into my head every time the lights went out. The doctors reasoned that whatever I was seeing was false, that my head was trying to piece together random tidbits of useless and fake memories. But there was no mistaking what I had seen, even the mere thought of my father in flames, burning and burning, caused my stomach to knot and a feeling of nausea to overtake me. However, I wasn’t going to cry. No, I couldn’t; I had to stay strong for my mother while she remained distraught and in mourning. There was no way for me to turn into our relatives, who cried as if they’d just found out that it was themselves who were dying. I would be a pillar for my mom, and keep her on her feet until she could stand on her own. She may try to act strong, but it was moments such as these that reminded me she was only human, a human under love’s curse.

With our bodies squished against each other, I stroked my mother’s untouched cheek, the side of her face that had not been overtaken by the flames. The curly brunette woman bent down her head and kissed my forehead, before sniffling and hiding her face in my hair. I could only imagine what everyone on the bus was thinking of us. Though choked and husky, I could faintly hear my mother’s voice cooing, “It’ll all be okay, baby. It’ll all work out. We’ll start from the bottom and work our way back up, I promise. Everything will work out the way it’s supposed to. I’m sure living in the country will do us a lot of good: the fresh air and the open range. A-And there’s a beach too, I hear! A-A b-beau…beau…”

My eyes flickered to my mom as she stared out the window, watching the scenery pass by much quicker than before. Whether she’d become distracted or was remembering something, I would never know. Instead, I shushed her and said, “It’ll be okay, Mama. Right?”

She nodded then, and her blue eyes peered down at me with a soft smile. It didn’t reach her eyes. “Yes, sweetie. Everything will be okay. I’m here for you.”

It was amazing how off she was, how switched the roles were. However, I didn’t saying anything more and allowed silence to overtake our seat for the remainder of the ride. Mother refrained from staring at her reflection, and instead the two of us rested and prepared to arrive in Lakeview. Before the fire had even occurred, my family had already been planning to move there and out of the city, proclaiming it to be a better environment to raise a kid in. Even after I countered that I was already sixteen and able to drive soon, the two answered simply it was for that very reason; the city was no place for a young girl to be walking or driving alone. Of course, this had only been brought to our attention after a girl two apartment building over had been allegedly kidnapped when she was walking her dog. No one has found the dog yet, much less the girl.

From what I had heard, Lakeview was among the “happiest places in Massachusetts to live because everyone was kind to one another and hatred was a sin”, or so I had been told by my friends, Liliana and Clara.

“I bet none of them had ever seen a true street fight!” Clara had squealed, referring to her new boyfriend who passed his time fist-fighting in an alley for easy cash. This led to her twirling a blonde curl around her fingers and droning on about his latest success. Liliana groaned, and placed her pointer and middle fingers on her temple like a gun. I remember laughing at this, much to Clara’s annoyance.

“Good luck, Cammy,” Liliana had said, after Clara had finished her tale. “You’re going to need it. Rich bastards everywhere, I hear. I bet all the girls are blonde and dumb, and get through the school year by –”

“What’s wrong with being blonde?”

Clara and Liliana proved to be no help then, so I’d taken it upon myself to search the little town. Just as Liliana had taken note of, there seemed to be a lot of wealthy districts close to the beach that ran along the southeastern side of the town. However, most of the town was made up of the middle class, spread across most of the town. The bus from the city to Lakeview stopped right in the middle of the downtown area, where there was a cute strip mall and a grocery store. No malls nearby, but there weren’t any that were too close to Boston either. Or at least, none worth going to. Everything was right there, so there was really no need. According to the map on Google, the high school was somewhere up the street from the downtown area, directly in the middle of a neighborhood. Lucky them, I remember thinking, happy I wasn’t so close to a school.

Of course, Mom and Dad had chosen a home in that neighborhood so my reveling only lasted a few minutes. Nothing I said changed their minds, and the house was purchased not long after the announcement was made. If it weren’t for us being unable to sell our apartment quick enough, we would already be living in Lakeview.

And father would be there with us.

A voice whispered in my ear then, though I couldn’t understand what they were saying. Blinking my eyes open, I realized I had fallen asleep and peered out the window. Just as I had feared, a wave of blonde girls were barreling out of a store and chattering and waving their hands frantically. I scrunched my brow and pursed my lips as I stared at the group waltzing down the sidewalk like they owned it all. And, judging from their Gucci purses in one hand and Couch wallets in the other that was definitely a possibility. To my relief, however, a few normal-looking girls stepped out of another building. Stay positive, Camille! I rooted myself on, trying to lose the pessimistic mood that I had been in for days now. Maybe Lakeview will be…a nice change. Maybe you’ll meet a ton of nice people and you will all team up and start a revolt against the Blondes and everything will end happily ever after with a knight on a white horse coming. And the two of you would travel the world together, and have three girl and go to Disney and they’d dress up as Bell, Cinderella, and Sleeping Beauty. Yes.

A girl can dream.

“Camille.” I turned around and looked at my mother, who was struggling with her suitcase. After the fire, none of our things really made it out. No one’s things did. In the end, we went on a shopping spree with my mother and her side of the family to buy some new clothing and appliances that hadn’t already been sent to the new house. Thankfully, most of the furniture had already been dropped off and assembled here in Lakeview, so we hadn’t lost too much. Even my father’s old keyboard had been brought there beforehand. Aside from the coffee maker, clothing, food, and a television set there wasn’t much that needed replacing. God bless organized, well prepared parents. “Camille?”

“Yeah, Mama?” I answered, realized I had spaced out again. She was looking at me odd.

“Could you please take this?” she asked, holding out my suitcase with a small smile. “It’s a bit heavy.” I grinned at her, and nodded my head, happy to see the depressed mood had dissipated a bit. Death still hung between us like a thick fog, but as long as she wasn’t crying we would be able to make it through anything.

The bus driver shot us a look as we exited the bus, probably because I had taken so long waking up. Most of the passengers heading toward the city were already seated, and readying for their adventure. Mother had grabbed my free hand and held it in her own as we made our way down the vacant sidewalk. It was embarrassing, to say the least, but I wasn’t going to tell her that.

There were only a few visible people walking on this sidewalk and the one across the street, and there were even less cars than that. It seemed, from all the bikes parked out in front of the tiny shops, that the preferred transportation was similar to that of the city goers; however, this was clearly for different reasons. The streets of Boston were always filled with taxis and buses, thus riding a bike was the only was to get anywhere, quickly. But as my mom and I tried to spot a cab, we began to realize just how little the population was in comparison. The two of us looked at each other confused, wondering how we were supposed to get from point A (downtown) to point B (our house) if there was no taxi.

“Are you two lost?” My mother jumped a bit at the voice and tightened her grip on my hand. I squealed in pain as her nails dug into my skin.

“Um…” my mother stuttered, turning around to face the owner of the voice. I did the same. “…Yes?”

The man was dressed in a full suit and a pair of Oakley sunglasses was balanced on his nose. Dark brown hair was slicked back with gel and his mocha-colored skin seemed to glow. Black dress shoes shone with the sunlight and I wondered if he could see his reflection in them. For a moment, I couldn’t help but notice he looked like he had come straight out of a Big Men’s formal wear catalogue. My mother and I exchanged a look before peering back at the epitome of wealth standing before us. He was laughing at my mother’s statement-turned-question.

“I thought so!” he exclaimed, and excused himself for the laughter. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you two here before, so I thought you could be newcomers. Well, welcome to Lakeview!”

“Oh great,” I muttered. “We met the welcome committee. That’s our luck.” I earned a sharp smack behind my head for that one, and grinned at my mother innocently. To be honest, the man was kind of freaking me out and overwhelming me with his rich-guy look. Plus, what did he mean by ‘I don’t believe I’ve seen you two here before’? Was this guy the mayor or something?

My mother smiled at the man and thanked him for his kindness, and explained, “Well, you see, we were just looking for a taxi to bring us to our– Mister?” The Latino man was muffling a chuckle and shaking his head, as if we were two naïve children.

“There are no taxis here. This is not the city.”

Mom’s face contorted in confusion. “Then how–”

“Well,” the man began, interrupting my mother yet again. “Unless you have a bike, you’re going to have to walk to your house. It’s a small town, so as long as you know what street you are heading toward it shouldn’t take you too long to find.” He smiled, and then formed an ‘O’ with his lips as if he just realized something. “And I do so apologize! I never introduced myself! My name is Robert McCarthy, or better known as Dr. McCarthy. I am the owner and head doctor of the clinic down the street. If you are ever not feeling well, please do feel free to come in. Unless it’s a busy day, we’ll usually accept walk-ins.” Dr. McCarthy smiled at us, flashing his unnaturally white teeth and momentarily blinding me. A few seconds of silence and creepy smiling proved that he was waiting for us to introduce ourselves. Mom took the bait.

“My name is Teresa Rose, and this–” she pulled her hand away to point at me. “–is my only daughter, Camille.” With my now free hand, I took this chance to wave at the doctor.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,” I replied, and he smiled at me.

“The pleasure is all mine,” he said and nodded to me. “How old are you?”

“Sixteen.”

“I have a son your age,” he grinned, and I could tell this son of his was held in high regards of the man. “I hope you two will be wonderful friends! I’ll make sure to tell him about you so he can show you around.” While I was about to deny his offer, my mother gave me a swift kick in the shin to silence me. My face contorted in pain. She thanked the man quickly for his help and offer, and hastily grabbed my hand and towed me down the sidewalk. Dr. McCarthy called out his farewell, but she was too set on creating space between us to say anything back.

Before we had boarded the bus, Mom and I had made a quick stop in the library to print out a small map of the town in order to find our way around. At first I thought this was a bit silly, seeing as there wasn’t much to the town and the nonexistent taxis could bring us everywhere. However, her quick thinking proved to be helpful, for it was our only means of finding our way to the house. At this rate, we were going to have to find some bikes; there was no way we would be able to purchase a new car right now, not with the house to pay for. While Mom was the owner of her own flower shop in the city – one she would now have to mostly run from home and have a manager do everything else – it only gave so much money and it fluctuated constantly. This time of the year, in late September, served as one of the worst months due to the lack of weddings and flower-necessary holidays. It was times like these that I consider a job, but the only ones nearby considering young people was the drug store across the street and Mom’s shop, which would defeat the whole purpose. Maybe I’d have better luck here.

As we scaled a hilly road toward our side-street, I caught sight of a large brick building just through the trees. When I squinted a bit, vague images of people came into view and I guessed this was one of the schools. My mother, noticing me squinting, in turn peered through the trees and grinned. “That’s your high school, I think. The elementary and middle school is on the south side of town, and the kindergarten near the beach.”

She continued to talk about how nice the school supposedly was, but I had other things in mind. “Mom?”

My mother paused, and peered at me with a smile. “Yes, dear?”

“What was up with that?” I nodded toward where we’d come. She opened her mouth as if to question what I meant, but closed it again. We never paused in our walk though, determined to make it home as fast as possible.

She finally answered, “I want you to have a good life, Cammy. Don’t get me wrong, I loved Clara and Liliana like my own kids, but… I don’t want you to go down the wrong path.”

“What if his son is a pervert?” I muttered, pursing my lips. “Or a player, or maybe he’s a druggie. You know, there are tons of rich kids that do bad things. Just because they have a lot of money doesn’t make them good people.” She laughed at this, and the sound was like bells. It was a happy noise, one that had been absent over the last month or so. If I could, I’d love to make my mother laugh like that every day from now on.

She continued laughing, “That is so true! I mean your father was–”

The bells halted and an awkward silence filled the air. My attention was focused on the blacktop, away from my mother, but I squeezed her hand hard. When I released a bit, she did the same to me and I began to feel as though and unspoken connection had been built between us, structured by the workings of death of someone dear to both of us. Only then did we stop and look around at where we were, at the beautiful home in front of us and the green front lawn. Around the neighborhood, the trees were changing into gorgeous reds and oranges and yellows, as were some of the bushes. A cocker spaniel barked from a house a few down from the one in front of us, loud and yet welcoming. It was all so different from what we were used to; there was an actual yard in front of and behind our house, trees as tall as the eye could see looming over from behind it, birds perched on anything and everything.

I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to react, honestly. Not sure what could be said. Even if I could finally think of something, Mom would have beaten me to it:

“…Everything I always.”

I wasn’t sure if she was referring to picture-perfect house, or her late husband, but when she began to weep silently next to me, I knew exactly what to say.

“Everything is okay, Mama,” I whispered, hugging her to me. “Everything always works out.”



The house we had been standing in front of wound up being our neighbor’s, not ours. We learned this after a young woman bounded down the front porch steps and questioned our reason as to why we were careening around her yard. From the looks of the towel wrapped carelessly atop her head and lack of makeup, I came to realize that she must have only just gotten out of the shower. Trying to be discreet, I flipped open my cell phone and checked the time: almost eleven. My mother noticed me looking at my phone and jabbed me above the hip with her elbow. As I winced, a revelation came into my mind: clearly, this woman was set on getting as many people as possible to like the two of us. Whether this was a form in the mourning process or if she was just desperate, I wasn’t sure.

The lady studied us again, staring at our suitcases and then at me confusedly as if she wasn’t sure why I was here and not at school. It was, of course, a Thursday. There was no holiday so why is this child out of school, she must be thinking. Finally, like a tennis ball it hit her square in the head and a large grin spread over her face. What was it with the country and these inhumanly large smiles?

“Oh my!” the woman exclaimed, ripping the towel off her head and running painted nails through the sea of red hair. “Are you the new neighbors? Oh my gosh, I feel so bad now! Please excuse my behavior, I’m really not a bad person! Honest! Oh my gosh! Can I get you something to drink? Or maybe you would like to come in? Or maybe not, because of how I was just acting. Oh my, oh my! I’m–” She paused for a moment to breathe. As my mom and I stared at her, the young woman’s nerves seemed to slowly but surely deplete until she had one hand extended to us.

“I’m Rosalynn,” she introduced, a smile on her lips. “Pleased to meet my new neighbor!” New? “I live here with my boyfriend Derek, but he’s out at work right now. I hope we can all be friends and go out bowling and to the beach and just be such good friends!”

My mother’s smile grew as well. “That would be wonderful!”

When she spoke, Rosalynn finally peeked over at my mother with her large grin. However, it only last a second until she looked at Mom, really looked at her, and caught sight of the scarred and bumpy red skin of the left side of her face. I could almost see the shiver roll up the woman’s spine, though Mom didn’t seem to notice the new reluctance in our neighbor’s voice as she spoke a quick goodbye and hurried into the house. Frustration boiled in my blood by Rosalynn’s abrupt leave, and how she had not even looked at my mother after seeing her scarred face. But when I looked at Mom, she was still smiling. Naïve to what had clearly overcome our neighbor, my mom turned to me and exclaimed, “She looks nice!”

“Yeah…” I mumbled and followed behind her as we strolled to the house next door. “Real nice.” A scoff was heard in front of me.

“I think you’re too hard on people, baby,” she said, turning up the rock pathway toward our front door. With a sniff, I shook my head.

“Not true at all. I think my perception of people is much clearer than yours.”

“Oh really?” She peered down at me as we reached the front door. It was fire truck red, just like the single car garage a few feet over. I grinned at her and nodded defiantly. Mom laughed, and dug in her pocket for the key to the house. When she found it, she thrust the metal object into the key hole, and unlocked the door.

Despite it being much bigger than the apartment we had, it seemed a bit too small to be given the title of a house. All the furniture that had fit snug in our old home appeared cramped and large in the different room. Beyond the foyer, the first room to the left was a tight half-bathroom and to the right was a den. A staircase stood mere feet away from the front door and led to what looked to be two bedrooms and another bath. Passed the stairs and following the mahogany wood floors led to a kitchen with marble countertops and stainless steel appliances. If anything, the beautiful of the kitchen made up for what was lacking in the rest of the house so far. This house was clearly bought for the kitchen, the only room in the house my mother liked to be in. Second, of course, to her garden which back at home was her shop. Here, there would be plenty of room to grow her flowers.

Not giving my mother a chance to comment on the rooms, I waltzed around her and bounced up the steps to peek into the bedrooms. Unlike downstairs, the top floor seemed a bit more personalized and homey, holding most of our treasures and belongs. When I looked into my mother’s room, I was greeted with Bob Marley posters and The Beatles records tacked to the wall like picture. Unless my mother was planning this room to double as a shrine, they would probably be removed and thrown in the attic later. I sniffled and peered around some more to see Mom’s treadmill assembled near the window in the back of the room and her sewing kits in a pile below the king-sized bed. Pushing myself off the wall, I leapt over to the other bedroom and grinned when I saw the yellowing keys of a keyboard near my window, and quickly threw down my suitcase on my twin bed to approach the instrument.

While I only knew a few songs, the keyboard was one of my favorite things in the world. It was beautiful, growing more so as it became older and older. And yet, it would forever be like my baby, this instrument. Finally, I pressed on the power button and played a simple tune, that of Greensleeves. The sound filled my room and all my nerves melted with the music.

I was in my own personal heaven. It was a place where nothing but the sweet notes and the warmth of the sun mattered. Somewhere where no one shed tears, where everyone sang and danced together in harmony. A perfect world.

Just as I finished the last measure, something behind me fell to the floor with a loud clank. Spinning around, I caught my mother standing there, wiping furiously at her eyes and bending over to pick up a pitcher. For what reason she brought a plastic jug up to my room, I was not sure. Before I could question her presence, and the presence of kitchen tableware, Mom shouted, “That was very pretty, sweetie! I mean, not that I was standing here the whole time to hear it all… but you see, we have to get to your new school right now so you can meet with the principal and get your class schedule and–” I blinked as she continued on her monologue. I was going to visit the school? Right now? Even though I had yet to unpack or even get settled? My eyebrows pulled together in confusion, my lips pressed into a firm line.

“Right now?” I interrupted her. Mom peered up, staring me in the eyes.

“Yes,” she spoke slow, as if I were a child. “Like, in a few minutes. We have to be situated and there by twelve.” I frowned.

“Couldn’t you have told me that? Like, on our way over here?”

The woman stared at me for a moment, and gears spun behind her eyes. “I suppose I could have, baby.” And with that, she and her pitcher skipped out of my room and, presumably, back to the kitchen. She added from the bottom of the stairs, “Five minutes, darling!”

Running a hand through my mess of brown hair, I pushed the Off button on the keyboard and stared out my window. From this spot, it was possible to see through a break in the trees and toward a field occupied by countless people. Students, I thought, watching them run around a baseball diamond. Their voices could be heard, laughing and joking with each other. Everyone was smiling; the girls with their fake blonde hair and short shorts and the boys ogling at them and murmuring incoherent prattle to their buds. Classmates! Possible friends! Future business leaders of America! I shuttered at the thought, and pulled down the shade, leaving me in complete darkness. If school wasn’t still in session, I’d call Liliana and beg her to kidnap me from this place. Shivering again, this time at the lack of lighting, I squeezed my eyes shut and curled myself in a ball on the piano seat.

“Camille!” My eyes flew open.

“Dad?” I squeaked, my voice barely above a whisper. Silence answered.

Then finally, “Camille! It’s time to go now, sweetie!” My shoulders dropped a bit at the feminine voice, but my fingers were still trembling. In fear? Anger? Sadness?

I wasn’t sure. All I know is I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.