Runaway
The Difficult Letter
The morning was cool and quiet. She lay her forehead against the sticky window glass, and looked out onto the settled street. The tall lamps were still flickering unsteadily, and the sun was about to climb over the mountain faraway in the distance, which, she realized, she herself had never climbed. She exhaled slowly onto the glossy glass, leaving a clot of condensation bulging on the surface. She let her finger draw a slow heart in its path. The sheet of fresh paper was still sitting neatly on her lap, supported by a wooden tablet she had found in the kitchen drawer. In her other hand, a pen twirled slowly between her fingers, anxious to write.
She looked down at the paper again. What could she even say to her father? She was running away with her lover, the man her father hated. She knew she would probably never see her father again if she ran away. She tried to remember all the times since her poor mother had died, when her father had beaten her senseless in a flurry or furious, lonely rage. But those painful memories kept on getting swamped by the good memories, that time when he had attempted to plait her thin brown hair, laughing at his own clumsiness, or when he sang to her on her birthday, which had only been recently. She loved her daddy, but she hated the alcohol, the fists, and the unpredictable rage.
She was 16 anyway, wasn't it time she went out there to gather a life for herself? She wondered what her friends would think, running away to marry a handsome young sailor, five years her senior. She knew she would be putting shame on her father, and herself, she knew that she would be remembered as a selfish whore. But she had gotten to a point where she didn't care.
With a heavy gulp, she began to write.
Father
She stopped. She clamped the pen between her teeth and looked out of the window. She sighed, and went back to the note.
I am afraid I have made an important decision for myself that will indeed change the paths of my life and yours. I am running away to America with Pádraig for a better life and good fortune. I will send you back income from my departure, to help you with the bakery. Please know that I will always treasure and worship the fond memories you and I have shared, and I will always love you like the caring daughter I am. Please don't try and find me, this is what I want and I want you to be safe also.
Love, Maura
By the end of the letter, fat tears were dripping from her chin. She let a single salty drop fall to the paper, splashing against the ink, before she folded it in half and kissed it for good luck. She left it next to the oil lantern and grabbed her brown suitcase, leaving the home she had grown up in.
***
Pádraig was waiting for her at the port, smiling with open arms. She ran to him and embraced for what felt like forever. The port was crowded and panicked, it had now reached half 11, and the ship would be leaving at twelve. They were going through health and safety when Maura heard frantic, familiar shouting. She turned and was shocked to see her father, red-faced but not angry, just frightened.
"Father!" she choked, not knowing what to do.
He grabbed her two hands and started pleading with her.
"My dear dear Maura, please don't go! You are the only reason I live! I am sorry for my temper, I will control it, please don't leave me Maura please!"
Pádraig had passed the gate, and he couldn't turn back, he began shouting when he saw what was happening. Maura burst into tears.
"Oh, Da! I need to go, this is what I want in my life! I will love you forever if you just leave me be,"
His chin wobbled as he looked into her eyes.
"This is what you truly want, is it?"
"Tis',"
They stood holding hands for a moment, before they pulled into a tight hug.
"I love you, Da,"
"I love you, my little Maura,"
Maura turned away for the last time, as a loud horn sounded throughout the harbour. Pádraig stood waiting, he had a sad smile on his face.
"Ah, cheer up, Maura," he said, giving her a peck on the cheek, "Why, you're about to board one of the finest ships in the world.
Maura looked up one more time before passing through one of the ship's many doors.
Titanic was painted in a proud white across the ships belly.
What a name, she thought.
She looked down at the paper again. What could she even say to her father? She was running away with her lover, the man her father hated. She knew she would probably never see her father again if she ran away. She tried to remember all the times since her poor mother had died, when her father had beaten her senseless in a flurry or furious, lonely rage. But those painful memories kept on getting swamped by the good memories, that time when he had attempted to plait her thin brown hair, laughing at his own clumsiness, or when he sang to her on her birthday, which had only been recently. She loved her daddy, but she hated the alcohol, the fists, and the unpredictable rage.
She was 16 anyway, wasn't it time she went out there to gather a life for herself? She wondered what her friends would think, running away to marry a handsome young sailor, five years her senior. She knew she would be putting shame on her father, and herself, she knew that she would be remembered as a selfish whore. But she had gotten to a point where she didn't care.
With a heavy gulp, she began to write.
Father
She stopped. She clamped the pen between her teeth and looked out of the window. She sighed, and went back to the note.
I am afraid I have made an important decision for myself that will indeed change the paths of my life and yours. I am running away to America with Pádraig for a better life and good fortune. I will send you back income from my departure, to help you with the bakery. Please know that I will always treasure and worship the fond memories you and I have shared, and I will always love you like the caring daughter I am. Please don't try and find me, this is what I want and I want you to be safe also.
Love, Maura
By the end of the letter, fat tears were dripping from her chin. She let a single salty drop fall to the paper, splashing against the ink, before she folded it in half and kissed it for good luck. She left it next to the oil lantern and grabbed her brown suitcase, leaving the home she had grown up in.
***
Pádraig was waiting for her at the port, smiling with open arms. She ran to him and embraced for what felt like forever. The port was crowded and panicked, it had now reached half 11, and the ship would be leaving at twelve. They were going through health and safety when Maura heard frantic, familiar shouting. She turned and was shocked to see her father, red-faced but not angry, just frightened.
"Father!" she choked, not knowing what to do.
He grabbed her two hands and started pleading with her.
"My dear dear Maura, please don't go! You are the only reason I live! I am sorry for my temper, I will control it, please don't leave me Maura please!"
Pádraig had passed the gate, and he couldn't turn back, he began shouting when he saw what was happening. Maura burst into tears.
"Oh, Da! I need to go, this is what I want in my life! I will love you forever if you just leave me be,"
His chin wobbled as he looked into her eyes.
"This is what you truly want, is it?"
"Tis',"
They stood holding hands for a moment, before they pulled into a tight hug.
"I love you, Da,"
"I love you, my little Maura,"
Maura turned away for the last time, as a loud horn sounded throughout the harbour. Pádraig stood waiting, he had a sad smile on his face.
"Ah, cheer up, Maura," he said, giving her a peck on the cheek, "Why, you're about to board one of the finest ships in the world.
Maura looked up one more time before passing through one of the ship's many doors.
Titanic was painted in a proud white across the ships belly.
What a name, she thought.