Based off the true event of the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire that occurred on March 25, 1911. Yes, the centennial was this year. Go check out the facts if you don't know about this - it's a very important event in history.
This is for the Dares Forum - Tragedy Dare.
C'est la Vie
Part 1
Denny POV
"Have a good day at work, my Sweet." I kiss my fiancée's cheek and she smiles at me.
"You too," she says, her strong, French accent lacing through each syllable. Then she turns around and walks towards the Asch Building, where she works as a seamstress at the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory. I watch her enter the building, so I know she's safe. After she's inside, I turn around and walk over to my workplace at a nearby law firm. Yeah, I work at a law firm, but I'm no lawyer. I'm just one of those employees that work in the background; I sign papers, write up contracts, and make sure everything runs smoothly. There's a name for it, but I forget what it is.
Someday…someday after I'm married to Lillian, maybe I'll stop being plain old Denny Brown, and be Attorney Brown, and maybe even Judge Brown one day. I think that'd be mighty special. Then maybe Lillian could quit her job at that God-awful factory. She wouldn't have to be worked to death every day, yelled at and spat upon by her bosses, Isaac Harris and Max Blanck, for working too slow, get paid $7 a week... Heck, she wouldn't even have to work. I'd take care of her for life; just to make up for the treatment she gets in that factory.
As I push open the revolving door, my coworker, Elliot, rushes up to me with a folder in his hand. His peach colored hair is askew, his huge circle glasses are crooked and about to fall off his nose, and his tie is hanging loose around his neck.
This is Elliot's typical appearance. He's usually running around frantically, always worrying about something - like a chicken with its head cut off.
"Denny! There's an emer-"
I cut him off. "Emergency, yes, I know. What is it this time?" I settle into my stance and cross my arms, waiting. It seems like there's always an emergency with Elliot.
He says something to me, but I'm already thinking about something else.
The one thing I can't wait for her to get away from is being searched at the door every day at the end of her shift. Blanck and Harris arranged the guards to be there to prevent "employee theft". I think the correct term is "greed", but their minds are set. Those guards violate her personal space; they grope and feel all along her clothing, including her private areas. It makes me so angry, and I can't do anything about it. No one should do that to someone as beautiful and innocent as Lillian. She'd never steal, lie, or cheat, and the fact they invade her like that makes me want to kill those guards – but I can't. I can't kill anyone! It's not the right thing to do, and it wouldn't help anything. It would just make things worse.
Elliot gets my attention by snapping his fingers in front of my face. "Denny. Denny!"
"Oh, sorry, Elliot. Continue," I say, my attention once again turned to Elliot.
He appears irritated, but continues. "It's the Johnsons! They want to drop the case! T-t-they can't do that, can they?"
I shake my head calmly. "No, they can't, Elliot. Not under these circumstances."
He stops short. "They can't?"
"Yes, Elliot, they can't drop the case at this point. They're in way too deep. There are so many other factors that contribute, but to make a long story short, they can't."
"Oh. Well, here's a document I need to you to sign." He shoves the folder in his hands towards me. "Immediately. It's an emergency."
I sigh and wave my hand dismissively. "Follow me; I'll sign it in my office." Elliot nods and begins power-walking towards the stairs. I guess I'm following him. "Elliot. Let's take the elevator," I suggest.
He whips around and wordlessly makes a beeline to where I'm standing – in front of the elevator door. As we wait for our turn, Elliot rocks on his heels, bouncing every so often. I don't understand why he's so fidgety and nervous all the time. He comes from a rich family – one of the owners of the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory is his uncle. Why is he even working – and why here? He's so low on the rankings at this job, when just two blocks away is a potential well-paying job (for him, at least); and he'd barely have to work for it, just because he's a relative of Isaac Harris.
We aren't waiting for long, and when the elevator door opens, we step in and wait for the operator to take us to floor six. The elevator creaks and moans as we get lifted higher and higher and higher, eventually jerking to a stop and opening its doors. Elliot and I thank the operator and step off before walking down the hallway and to my office. He shuts the door behind him and slaps the file on my desk as I'm sitting down, making a nice 'snap!'sound as it hits the cherry-colored wood.
"Sign it," Elliot says sternly, handing me a pen.
I sigh and scribble some letters down, not really paying attention. Elliot picks up the document and scans it over, looking for any errors in my signature. I lean back in my chair and take my Monroe hat off, placing it on the desk as I wait.
Smiling, he closes the folder with one quick motion from his right hand. "Perfect! Now, I'd hate to distract you further, so I'll be leaving now. Have a good day!" Elliot exclaims over his shoulder, walking out. He shuts the door, and I bury my face in my hands, my fingers running through my thick, curly, dark brown hair.
Elliot really stresses me out.
My mind wanders once again, a terrible habit of mine.
I'm always urging Lillian to join a labor union, but she's hesitant. She doesn't want to upset her bosses or jeopardize her job, the only source of income she has. I try to share my earnings with her, but I really can't afford it. Lillian knows it, too; she doesn't like to accept my money, but sometimes in dire situations (such as not being able to afford food for a day and a half), she has to accept it. I'll never let her go hungry. I'll never let her get hurt.
What should Lillian and I do tonight after work? I could take her on a walk through the park, or we could cook some dinner together, or…
We could get married.
Lillian and I have talked about when we're going to get married, but we've never decided on a firm date. I know what I'm going to do. I'll go see her on my lunch break and propose that we get married tonight after work.
Thanks so much for reading, and sorry it's a short chapter - that'll be made up in the next chapter. I promise!
HUGE thanks to my beta, Peach the Hedgehog! I appreciate all the suggestions you gave me, and I'll be sure to apply them in my future writing as well :)
Reviews are appreciated!