Fast, Loud, and in Love

Even amidst all the laughter and champagne, I was terribly bored. Sighing, I set down my glass on the window sill staring out into the warm summer night. It was my eighteenth birthday, but as usual, my parents were using it as an excuse to show off their money to the entire town. Of course they said it was my party but in all honesty, not a single person here knew that Catherine and Harold Sawyer even had a daughter, let alone that it was her birthday. The truth is, sometimes they didn't even remember.

I didn't mind though. I wasn't the kind of girl that liked being the center of attention. I was much more comfortable around fewer people. Friends, in fact, that should have been here hours ago, I think, turning to glance at the old grandfather clock that stands at the base of an overly lavish staircase.

It's half past midnight, where are those two? I thought as I mindlessly took a sip of my champagne. Shelly and Louise weren't exactly known for being on time but they weren't known for being hours late either. I hope they're okay, I thought. Taking another sip of the bubbly liquid, I walk quickly and silently into the kitchen passing a tall man with dark hair perfectly combed, a thin mustache, and piercing blue eyes just like mine: my Father. He's standing with his back to me talking thoughtfully to a balding, slightly round and rosy-cheeked man named Bruce, his longtime friend turned business partner. They were reminiscing about the good ole days as he liked to call them. Their conversation faded as I reached the door to the kitchen just in time for the swinging door to fly towards me revealing a very anxious seeming waiter carrying out a tray of oysters.

I duck past him as I enter the kitchen. The kitchen is a very large and grand space that my mother never sets foot in. Long counters full of everything you could possibly need in a kitchen in a kitchen, a pantry full of more food than anyone could ever eat, beautiful wooden floors, an enormous island that sets perfectly in the center. I wander over to the island and pull out the stool to have a seat. Helen our resident cook and housekeeper and basically everything else you can imagine is facing away from me chopping vegetables. She was a large woman with round features, but that didn't stop her from being quick in everything she did. I watch her intently, her moves are swift and effortless as she quickly slices through a cucumber and then a carrot sliding each into a bowl with a wave of her knife. She must have felt my eyes on her because without losing a beat she lets out a long labored breath before she speaks

"Miss Ellen, what are you doing here?" she asks, turning to face me, her eyebrow raised quizzically. She wipes her hands on her apron before speaking again. "You know this is your party girl!"

"I know it's my party Helen, but really it's their party," I said sarcastically.

She eyed me wearily, pursing her lips. "It's true that you folk do love any excuse for a party—they's like to show off we all know that. But they is good people miss Ellen and I stand by that."

I shook my head reluctantly, in tacit agreement. "I never said they were bad people, Helen. They are just accustomed to a certain lifestyle now, and unfortunately for me, a child does not go with it very well..." I said trailing off, saying that last part under my breath.

Looking down, I fidget with the champagne flute hoping Helen didn't catch what I said. No such luck. Helen stopped wiping the counters looked me dead in the eye as she dropped the washcloth on the counter and walked over to me. "Well I got news for you missy"—putting her hands on her hips as she continued—"last time I checked you was eighteen now. I get that you say you don't resent your folks for acting as they do, but I can see it clear on your face that you do."

Helen was right. I was hard-pressed to remember a time when my parents weren't like this. My father hit it big when I was about five years old, and since then, he and my mother traveled, they wined and dined with the best of them. Leaving me in the care of maids in all sorts of strange places. My only saving grace was when my mother hired Helen.

"I practically raised you," Helen continued on. "So I would be expecting you to have a better head on your shoulders."

The thing with Helen was that no matter what the case was, she had the ability to put things in perspective for me and let me know that I was being foolish. I stare at the ground feeling ashamed. I spin the champagne flute in my hands and set it on the counter.

"Girl, you better look at me when I'm speaking to you," she says with a light edge in her voice. She lifts my chin up so our eyes meet "Now sweetheart," she says with more sympathy than before. "You can't change your parents, but you can change yourself. I'm tired of this moping around business. You need to get out there and make your own way. No more of this hiding in the shadows"

I'm biting my lip now, knowing that if she keeps this up that tears are sure to follow.

"You need to meet new people. Have new experiences," she went on. "You can't say shut up in this here house wasting your life away."

Thinking she was finished I spoke up, "I do have friends!" I told her, wringing my hands together. "Shelly and Louise. You've seen them around here enough times."

Helen rolls her eyes at this. "Honey, those two silly hens ain't what I'm talking about!"

I tilt my head in confusion. "Then what are you saying?" I ask her with more curiosity.

"I know they's your friends sweetheart, but how often have you been out with them? I see them coming more than I sees you going. Don't think I don't notice these things," she says smartly. She looks at me firmly waiting for a response.

"Well...besides birthdays," I stutter. "I mean...I can't really think of any other time."

Sighing, I put my head in my hands. "Um hmm," she says. "I knows this. Your parents may be too busy with their heads buried in their money to notice, but I notice. They moved us into this big ole house, and you've been hiding yourself away from the world so they could live it up. Well honey, it's your turn."

Helen was right again. She was always right. We were a family that came from nothing, but ever since my father hit it big in the stock market things haven't been the same. We moved out of our neighborhood to a house that was way too big for us, away from everyone that knew us. The only people I kept in touch with were Louise and Shelly. I hadn't made any attempts in the passing years to get to know anyone or go anywhere. In my mind, my friends and Helen were always company enough. Now on my eighteenth birthday, however, the realization that it wasn't enough was weighing heavily on my shoulders.

My tears begin to brim. I quickly wipe at the corners of my eyes before Helen can see, but it's too late. Within seconds I'm wrapped in a warm embrace. She speaks to me softly as she strokes my hair. "I just don't want you to regret what could possibly be the best years of your life," she says, softly patting my back as I quietly sob into her shoulder, leaving wet pools on the black fabric of her uniform.

We were jolted out of embrace suddenly by the thunderous noise of pots and pans clattering to the ground. I turn abruptly to see Veronica Hastings faced down, laughing hysterically, followed by a scurry of footsteps belonging to Shelly and Louise. If Shelly and Louise were the silly hens, then Veronica Hastings was definitely a bad egg. Veronica was tall and slender with long black hair. She had sharp features and almond-shaped eyes that were smeared with too much makeup. She was two years younger than any of us and was hell-bent on proving that she could do and have more fun than any of us put together, and tonight seemed to be no exception. She really wasn't part of our circle of friends, and with the way she behaved, I couldn't ever figure out why she wanted to be. I walk quickly to try to scoop the giggling Veronica off of the floor of my pantry, locking eyes with a panicked Shelly who mouths the words sorry to me. I wave her off, clearly this isn't her fault. I stoop low to the ground, the beads of my gown making clicking noises as I move.

"Veronica!" I said, putting my hands on either side of her face. You need to be quiet! You are making a scene."

Veronica's giggles are stifled by Louise's clasping hand over he mouth. Veronica twists back and forth trying to get free. I grab her under the arms. Between the three of us, we manage to get her upright. I move to pull another stool out to set a seemingly sloshed Veronica, leaving Shelly and Louise to support her full dead-weight as they are trying to make their way around all the rubble of the pantry; a task which was proving to be rather hard with Roni' propped up between the two of them.

Veronica goes to speak but breaks into another fit of laughter. That's all it takes to finally send Helen over the edge. "Good Lord!" she says. "You three better get that child under control before her antics disrupt that perfectly nice party going on out there." She motions towards the kitchen door, to the droves of people behind it that have no clue I exist. I roll my eyes at this.

"Helen," I say again sarcastically. "You know it's not my party."

She ushers me forward to meet 'Roni' who falls face first into my arms, her giggles are stifled from the struggle I'm having shifting her weight from her arms to the chair. Finally, Roni is settled on a stool head down on the island.

Helen is at the sink filling a glass with water which she hands to Lou and shoos her towards the facedown girl. Drying her hands on her apron she begins to speak matter-of-factly. "Well little miss, this may not be your party but it don't matter no how. This girl smells like hooch I could strike a match and send this whole place up in flames. She gathers some food on a plate and slides it towards Veronica. "She's associated with you so we can't be having this girl acting a mess in this kitchen. So this"—she points a pudgy finger in Roni's direction—"this needs to be solved."

I stuck my tongue out at Helen purely out of defiance. Her seriousness began to fade and a smile slowly spread across her face.

"Eighteen years old," she mumbled as she turned away and waddled towards the stove to stir something that was beginning to boil.

"Well—" I say, pulling a piece of shrimp from Veronica's plate, as she sits up slowly and takes a long sip of water. I shake my head and turn to look at Lou.

"Happy birthday," Louise says sheepishly.

I put my hand over my mouth to hide the laughter as Shelly smacks Lou across the back of her head. Helen turns and eyes us sternly before going back to her cooking.

"What we going to do about her?" I ask the girls, gesturing towards a slightly better Roni.

"She won't be awake much longer I imagine," said Louise.

"No kidding," said Shelly under her breath, watching Veronica as she played with her food.

Hmm, I wondered to myself, pursing my lips in thought.

"Well we can leave her here," Shelly suggested, my eyes widened to the size of saucers.

"I'm sorry?" I managed to say, "but where are we going?" I asked meekly.

The girls looked at each other, then at Helen knowingly. "Out!" they said in unison.