Lost in the Fire
She was 18 and gorgeous. Eyes that made you want to spill your soul, the genuine smile of a friend. A mind of seasoned confidence, making you forget she was not yet a year out of high school. Straight A’s with a Rock n Roll heart. She had a full wall of ticket stubs and autographs, some of them on T-shirts, other things. Had a Las Vegas tattoo on her hip. Pete Wentz held her hand, sang to her one night in Denver. She liked to have a good, loud time. Had to have anime on her T.V. while blasting something from Warped Tour as she studied calculus and macro. Actuary was an option, but her heart was set on becoming V.P. of curatorial affairs at The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.
Personality in spades. No-One could keep her in the negative. She took her SAT’s, sponsored by Duke University between sixth and seventh grades, claiming a letter of commendation from President Bush for academic excellence. She lead her Mock Trial team to nationals, and enjoyed the posh life at Colorado’s Broadmoor Hotel as a fifteen year old.
Earlier, she had a quick correspondence with Nelson Mandela for a school project. Won the title of most unique at summer camp, and lived her life following first, Scooby-Doo then Hermione Granger. She was seven when she talked her mom into accompanying her to the midnight release of Harry Potter and The Chamber of Secrets. Drinking butter beer and dressed as Hermione, she won first place which entitled her to the first copy sold at Novel Idea that magical morning. Her mother, also a bibliophile was sure to get her every book on its release date. The Deathly Hollows was presented with a box of Bertie Bott’s, a 2 liter of vanilla coke, and shrimp Lo Mein. She hugged her mother and was not seen again for approximately seven hours. When she emerged, eyes swollen from crying, ten years of life with Harry completed she was sixteen.
Lack of funds prohibits a few of life’s finer pleasures. She had a little sister and a baby brother that loved her to pieces. The ice cream man came around, his ice cream song enticing the little ones. His truck could not stop without proper funding. She disappeared for about an hour. When she returned she wore a box and a purple wizards hat. “Please take the munchkins outside in two minutes.” she said. Mom saw the glint in her eye and promptly complied. This quick adherence was rewarded with the majestic sight of their big sister, walking up and down the sidewalk with her colorful box, the tail of the wizards hat floating behind her, and music of the bounciest kind. Not only was she the best big sister ever, but now she was an ice cream truck! There were no luckier kids ever to be treated to ice cream.
That winter she dressed in her finest dress clothes, furry hat and all. She and her mom attended opening night of The Nut Cracker. At the concession stand she bought herself a hot chocolate and an amaretto sour for her mother. I told you she was gorgeous. Not a single person questioned her age. When her mom returned from the restroom she was surprised, and a little scared. Her daughter would always get what she wanted. Mom hoped what she wanted would always be the right things.
Mom got a call at 1 a.m. Her daughter was in Tulsa, staying with her father. It was summertime. He lived near a lake. She had friends there. Teenagers, they built a bonfire. They were drinking. Could mom please come to the station and pick up her daughter? “By the way,” said the officer, “I just want to tell you that you should be proud. There were about 30 kids at that party. She was the only one not drinking.” Was she proud? Yes. Not happy about the phone call, but proud. This daughter of hers was born with self-assurance. Never has a mother been more lucky.
So here you have it. The perfect story. A small hiccup, but it all worked out. A child with the confidence to be whatever she wants, not bending to peer pressure. Not getting lost in adolescence. Mom could not say that about herself, didn’t know anyone that could. A happy girl. A beautiful child, grown into a young lady that could take your dreams and fly with them.
Her mom told her once about her name. Skye. Beautiful and ever changing. Stormy and ominous for a moment then the clouds would break and she’d be there. Serene and unending loveliness. That's why she was named so.
She was a story book princess. When she was little she had a bedtime routine. After she got ready for bed she’d hide behind the couch. Mom would exclaim, “Oh, a little lost princess! What should we do?” Dad would say,” Let’s take her to the castle. She’ll tell us who she is in the morning.” Then he would carry her to her bed and mom would tuck her in. She’d giggle, but leave her eyes closed so mom could kiss them. Every night she went to bed that way, until the kingdom of her parents fell apart. Mom hoped she would always remember the best times. There really were a lot.
Dad had an annual fishing trip. While he was away for the week mom let her play hostess. Girls at school vied for invitations to her spectacular sleep overs and themed parties. Like, jumpapalooza; everything they did was on the trampoline, including making ten-shake pudding. Then there was the jungle party; grandpa had a palm tree he’d bought for a luau so she borrowed it. Mom got some green plastic fencing, pinned it to the living-room ceiling. Using Velcro, she strapped her screaming stuffed monkeys and other jungle animals to it. The girl’s drank out of coconuts, ate pineapple and wore each other out. It was a great weekend!
Then high school hit and now it was the boys that clamored for her attention. Mom remained proud of her, but occasionally she wondered if her daughter was too perfect. A boy’s mother stopped by one day, crying. “Please don’t dump him!” Mom was a little freaked out. “He registered for college because of you! I couldn’t get him to go, but you did! If you dump him, he’ll live in my basement forever.” In an imperfect moment, she said, “ I’m sorry. I have to go to work. I’m going to be late.” She walked away leaving mom with a weepy woman and nothing to say! After the woman left mom was secretly relieved to see a little imperfection.
Eighteen. Mom bought her pearls. “Every lady should have a string of pearls. When you take off your concert clothes, leave your fuzzy socks on the bed and take on the momentary role of a lady, you’ll need your pearls.” Pearls of wisdom indeed! Mom, told her to never stop having a sense of humor. Told her to go to concerts and let her wild self out. Mom had always told her to question. That’s it. Question. Everything. Research, never follow blindly. Never go by face value. Luckily, she was not as pessimistic as her mom, but she did learn to look out for herself.
The homecoming dance. Mom took her shopping. After a couple of hours and a few fittings, she had her dress; it matched her little sister’s Christmas dress. They turned up the music and spun and spun all around the living room.
Prom came. She chose a multicolored dress that looked like it came from a gypsy mermaid. It was four hundred dollars. Mom could only laugh at the pictures; she wore a purple tiara, big golden bangles and hoops, but refused to wear shoes!
Graduation came. Mom wondered where all the time went. Her little lost princess should be hiding behind the couch, she would giggle any second now. Instead, there stood a lady. 5'6, long stemmed and gorgeous. Eye’s that couldn't lie, lips who’s secrets you wanted for your own. Just yesterday, she wore Oscar the Grouch pajamas and crazy hot pink socks with stuffed alligators sewn on them. Last week, she was insisting her favorite toy (a $3 rubber alligator, dressed in a velvet Barbie dress) be brought to dinner with them. Now she sleeps with a $300 alligator, 6ft long and bought by a boy she dated. Dated? She’s not old enough to date! Graduating? That’s impossible.
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She did graduate. She did find her own apartment. She did turn nineteen.
Then she did something harrowing. Something her mom couldn’t live with. Something she couldn’t take back.
She died.
Still in Tulsa, borrowing her dad’s car for the day. Too fast. He had always wanted one, lucked out at a car auction. Jaguar. Too much for a teenager. She was in the passing lane. She shouldn’t have been. Head on. It was her fault. The perfect girl. The princess.
“I couldn’t save her.” he said.
Mom doesn’t understand.
“It caught on fire and I couldn’t save her.”
Mom hears someone screaming.
Mom wakes up, sort of. The week is a blur. Friend’s make the flight arrangements, get her on the plane.
Itallblurstogether.
Between coherent moments she realizes she’s in Tulsa.
Then she’s in Denver.
She’s home.
For a week.
The firetruck was called to the wrong location. Good people tried to help. They couldn't. No one could. The fire was too big. A full week spent in darkness and pharmaceutical oblivion. It is not enough. She is hospitalized. She cannot find peace, cannot even breathe.
A million memories, not a lifetime because 19 is not a lifetime. It is only the beginning of life.
Any moment now and mom will hear her. The little lost princess waiting to be tucked in. Kissed. Loved.
Oh how much she is loved.
