Desperation: A Short Narrative by

DESPERATION
A SHORT NARRATIVE BY LIZA HAZELWOOD KARUNA NANDKUMAR ASHA RICHARDS
CAP INTERDISCIPLINARY Q1 - ENGLISH TEAL GROUP OCTOBER 25, 2013
New York City, October, 1901

Land! The joyous cry echoed across the water until it reached the teeming shores of New York City. Maria stepped off the boat, dragging her younger brother, Pietro, behind her in a rush of excitement. She stood upon the golden ground, and stared up at the vivid blue sky, feeling a pang of sadness as she thought of her dead parents, buried back in the old country - her homeland, Siena, Italy. She remembered her mother on her deathbed whispering her last words, You must take young Pietro and yourself to America, where the streets are paved with gold and opportunity knocks on every door. Maria was jerked back to reality as Pietro yanked repeatedly on her hand. Maria, he said, That man is calling our names. Maria looked up, and caught a glimpse of a middle-aged man who fit her mothers description of their Uncle Mario, before he was swept away by the crowd of immigrants from their ship. She tugged Pietro through the crowd, and wove her way towards Mario. So you are Maria, I see. And here is my nephew, Pietro! I expect that you have enjoyed your journey, eh? Mario went on like that for a while, and as soon as the introductions were complete, proceeded to show Maria and Pietro around the city; soon they came to their apartment, one cramped, dirty room for both of them. Maria was disappointed; she had imagined the home that Uncle would provide for them to be a palace, complete with gilded floors and two bathrooms, but instead, this room was not so different from their small cottage back in Siena. After that, Uncle Mario offered her a job at a garment industry where he worked and made a decent amount of money. He said that because he was very busy with his managing job at the factory, she would have to earn enough money to support both Pietro and herself. Then he left
them there, in the darkness of the tenements, and promised to come back soon. Uncle Mario did not visit again until nearly a month had passed.
Two Months Later

On Christmas morning, Uncle Mario appeared on their doorstep, like a gruff Santa Claus, with gifts. Children, I have surprises for you. You should be very grateful to your Uncle Mario. These presents cost him a pretty penny. Ah...yes, thank you very much, Uncle, Maria thanked him. Thank you, thank you, tha- Pietro added, but was interrupted by a fit of coughing. Pietro, have you been drinking enough water lately? You have been coughing more than usual, and you look quite pale... Maria asked, concerned. Maria, dont be worried, I am fine. Thank you so much Uncle, you are the best! he cheered, then added to Maria, Real presents, sister, real presents! Maria opened the packages. Pietro received a tin toy, and Maria got a new pair of slightly worn-out shoes. As Maria fell asleep that night, full of happiness and the special Christmas dinner that she had saved enough money to make, she remembered her parents. She remembered how her family would go to church on Christmas to get away from their leaking, cold shelter, and later struggle to find money for dinner. In America, she had presents, a solid roof over her head, and enough money to buy food. She imagined where she would be in a year. She would be a manager, like uncle Mario, or, in fact, better than uncle Mario. Her brother and she would move from their crowded apartment building and live in a big house with more money to spare. She would be able to tell her mother in heaven that she had lived the American Dream. Now she
had to work. Working was the only way to get to her dreams. Maria worked in a shirtwaist factory, where her uncle was manager of her floor, so her job was safe; but she often heard the cries of other women when their fingers were pierced by the fast machinery. She wanted to leave soon, and become a maid for one of the rich, upper-class houses on the other side of town. Her future was now in her own hands, and Pietro would always be as happy as he was on this Christmas day.
January, 1902
Pietro was sick. His health was deteriorating every day. His small body was wracked with coughs, and he was slowly fading away. Maria spent all of her hard-earned money of which she was so proud to buy him the newest medicines and best doctors. But Pietro's disease seemed to be impenetrable. It refused to yield to any of the newest methods. And when Maria, in her desperate state, ran out of money, she turned to Mario for help. He had come to visit, on a cold winter night when the wind was swirling outside, and the snow came down in freezing waves of white. Maria was tucking Pietro in to bed, making him as comfortable as possible, and preparing herself to set down her pride and beg Mario for the money, if that was what it would take. "Pietro, you will be fine. I promise." "Really, Maria?" He coughed forlornly. Because I dont feel well, She nodded. You will get better." Pietro, who was almost her own child, coughed again and turned over onto his side. She took a corner of his blanket and pulled it over him, tucking her brother into bed. Maria, when I see Mama and Papi
Dont talk like that! You will never, ever leave this earth! Maria said out of desperation, at least not now. Hush, now go to sleep. You can see Mama and Papi in your dreams. After a few minutes, Pietro's shallow and frequently punctuated breathing became steady and echoed through the room. Satisfied that he was asleep, Maria crept from the room and saw their uncle sitting down on the couch, waiting patiently for her to return. "Uncle? I need to ask you something." Maria said anxiously. Her uncle nodded for her to continue. "Pietro is very sick and I don't have enough money for medicine. We don't have any money at all. He might die, Uncle. Please lend me the money, just enough to save Pietro. Mario sighed and put away his paper. He adopted a serious face before his eyes flicked to his cigar, itching for a smoke. Maria noticed and narrowed her eyes at him. Hes too far gone, Maria. He wouldnt survive anyway. No, uncle, Pietro can still be saved, but only if you help him. You know that you have the money, but now all you care about is gambling and your cigar! Nothing else in the world matters. You dont even care if your own nephew - your own nephew - lives or dies! Help him uncle if not for me, then for our mother, your sister in her grave to whom you promised with your life that you would take care of us! Maria shouted. Suddenly she didnt care if Pietro woke up after hearing their fight. It would show that yes, he was still breathing and alive and could be saved. Maria! Mario yelled, slamming his hand into the wooden table that stood next to the sofa. She stopped talking, a frightened expression leaping across her face.
Yes, Uncle? she asked sharply, a cold edge in her voice. Stop talking as if you are entitled to everything because you are not! Here, in the land of opportunity, you work until you bleed and then you work some more. It has taken me a lot of work to be where I am in the factory, and I will not throw all of my hard-earned money away! I heard your manager telling you off last week! He said that you had been slacking and not doing your job. He said he was going to fire you if you kept on picking your fingernails! Whats so important about your fingernails, Uncle? No ones going to notice them, especially not some high-up lady! Shut up! he bellowed. If I gave you money, it would only go to waste. How can you say that? A waste of money, a waste of money, to save a soul from the dark cloak of death, much less someone that you actually know, someone who is of your own blood? Anything that I could give you would be for nothing. But-! No, wait. Do not interrupt me. You are an ignorant girl, and you do not understand the ways of this cruel new world as I do. Listen. Once, when I first arrived here, I was a happy man. I had a wife, and a daughter. I was making a good amount of money, enough to live comfortably. But then a sickness swept through our home. Both my wife and my lovely daughter fell ill. I spent all of my money to save them, but it was all in vain. I borrowed more and more, and fell deeply into debt. Out of stress, I got fired for not paying attention. It took me a long time to get back to where I am. That is why I am a gruff old man now, probably not as loving as you had expected, eh? I gamble, I smoke, I drink, it is the only way to escape this world. Pietro is already gone. I am sorry Maria, but this is my final decision.
Mario took his coat and hat, and walked into the raging storm outside.
One week later: The small procession stumbled down the grey streets to the small church. Fog blotted out the top of the steeple, so the church resembled a flat box; it was strangely similar to the cold, black coffin that was carried on the bent shoulders of the graveyard workers. Maria, dressed all in black, carried herself stiffly, averting her eyes from those of her now silent uncle. She knelt by the small coffin and, after whispering a short prayer, kissed his cold forehead. You will be safe with Mama and Papi in heaven now. Then she gently closed the lid of the coffin, and turned her back on the little graveyard and the stooped figure of Mario. It wasnt until she had turned the corner of the dark street that she began to weep.

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DESPERATION

A SHORT NARRATIVE BY LIZA HAZELWOOD KARUNA NANDKUMAR ASHA RICHARDS

CAP INTERDISCIPLINARY Q1 - ENGLISH TEAL GROUP OCTOBER 25, 2013

New York City, October, 1901

Two Months Later

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