I know Antoinette is OOC in this, but it just kind of fit!
Credit goes to HorseGirl784 for inspiring me and allowing me to use the different languages in this chapter!
Thanks again to my awesome beta, Peach the Hedgehog!
Part 3 will be up tonight - stay tuned!
C'est La Vie
Part 2
Lillian POV
"Have a good day at work, my Sweet," my fiancée, Denny says to me before kissing me on the cheek. I blush and smile.
"You too," I reply. Then I turn around and walk towards the factory. I do my best to ignore the guard who always checks me each evening as I pass him. It's always awkward when I see him – it's just a reminder of how violated I feel every day.
As I walk inside the factory and approach the elevator, my friend, Antoinette approaches me, her short, Robin's egg blue hair swishing with her bouncy steps. She's supposed to style her hair either up or back, but she never follows that rule. At least she wears a shirtwaist – I could see her trying out new fashions at work, but she knows our bosses won't tolerate it.
"Hello, Lillian!" she chirps.
"Hello, Antoinette," I greet her.
We're both French, so we converse easily. However, we both decided it's probably best if we speak in English, so we can adjust to our environment better. Our bosses don't like us to talk, hum, sing, or anything of the sort as they feel it hinders with our work, so we don't get an opportunity to speak much. In fact, I saw a girl get fired last week for humming out of pure joy – she had just gotten engaged that morning.
As we wait for the elevator to come, we chat a bit about the day ahead. When the elevator arrives, we step inside and smile at the operator, asking him to take us to floor nine. It's awkwardly silent on the ride up, and I'm not sure why. All that can be heard is the creaky cable wire that pulls us up towards our destination. Once we reach the ninth floor, I thank the operator as we step off.
Antoinette leads the way to our work stations – we're right next to each other. We pass by about six twenty-foot-long tables along the way, both sides of the table occupied by about ten girls each. The whirring sound of the sewing machines is a familiar one, for sure – I've been working here for nearly three months, six days a week from seven thirty AM to 5 o'clock PM. I get paid $7 a week. It doesn't even cover half my rent, so after I leave work for the day, I go to my tenement and work for the landlord, cleaning his tenement to make up the rest of the rent. Honestly, my landlord is very kind for doing so. I make him dinner every night as a thank-you – using his ingredients, of course. He's always thankful for it, since he's an old, widowed man that has a hard time getting around.
Anyway – we continue walking, passing about 120 young workers along the way. Most of my coworkers are girls aged fifteen to twenty-three, and most are immigrant girls from Russia, Germany, Italy, and even a couple (like Antoinette and me) are from France. During our lunch break, you can always hear a variety of languages and dialects. It's interesting, if you have the time to consider it.
Antoinette turns at the seventh table and makes her way to the middle, and I follow her. We both sit down and get right to work. My mind instantly goes into work-mode; block out all distractions and let my fingers do the work so I can pass the time and think.
What is Denny doing right now?
The fabric flies through my hands as I check the buttons on the shirtwaists – my eyes and fingers are almost like a machine, able to just automatically work without me really thinking about it.
I wonder what I'll have for dinner tonight…if I can afford dinner.
Oh, a defective shirt. I throw it in the scrap bin and grab the next shirtwaist.
What should I cook Mr. Michaels tonight? He had stew yesterday, maybe I can try to make the same thing, but change it a little by playing with the seasonings and spices.
The process continues until twelve thirty, when the lunch bell rings. Finally! I straighten my neck, which feels awful yet at the same time brings sweet relief. After five hours of working, I'm ready for a break. I wiggle my fingers, interlock them, turn my palms away from my body, and push away from myself to give my hands and arms a nice stretch. Antoinette and I share knowing glances as we stand up – we're both relieved for our short lunch break.
Right before we're about to sit down to work again, a familiar face makes its way over to me.
Denny!
My fiancée walks over with a grin on his face. I know that grin – he's got something up his sleeve.
"Salut ma belle," he greets. He says little phrases in French sometimes, just to be romantic and sweet.
A blush creeps on my cheeks. "Salut monsieur," I reply.
Denny furrows his eyebrows. "Monsieur? Why so formal?" he asks, taking my hand.
I laugh. "No reason! I just felt like saying monsieur, is there a something wrong with that?"
"Not at all. Hey – I have a surprise for you." There's that grin again!
"What?" I know my face wears a confused yet worried expression. Sometimes Denny comes up with odd little schemes that just don't work out, and I'm worried this is one of them.
He drops down on one knee; right there in the middle of the sweltering factory, bringing me back to when he proposed a month ago.
It was a beautiful June evening, and we were taking a walk through the park, our fingers intertwined lightly. The entire time I was with him, he seemed sort of distant, nervous, and worried. When I asked him what was wrong, he'd swallow hard and say nothing. I was worried he was going to tell me he didn't want to pursue our relationship any further, but then just out of the blue, he dropped my hand, stepped in front of me, causing me to almost run into him, and then got down on one knee.
Denny stumbled through the proposal. "L-Lillian, I love you with all my heart. We've known each other for a year, and now that we're courting, it's been a blessing. But I want to take our relationship to the next level and get you out of that rusty old tenement where you're by yourself. I love you. W…Will you marry me, Lillian?"
I was in complete and utter shock; I hesitated for a couple of moments before it really hit me. Denny wants to marry me, I thought.
I didn't have to do any more thinking. I nodded my head frantically and grinned from ear to ear, saying, "Yes! Of course I will, Denny!"
He smiled that classic grin of his and sprung to his feet. "R-really?"
I was still smiling like an idiot at that point. "Yes!"
Denny wrapped me in a hug instantly, which I gladly returned.
Back to the present.
Denny takes my hand, and the room falls silent.
"Lillian, I was thinking… What if we get married tonight, after work?"
Girls gasp from delight all around me, and I'm shocked myself. I just stand there, staring into his dazzling brown eyes, and then I realize I should answer him. "Sure, why not?" I reply, a grin quickly growing on my face.
Denny breathes a sigh of relief before standing up. He hugs me, and the sound of applause fills the room.
When he pulls away, Denny pulls something out of his jacket pocket. "Lillian, I've wanted to give you this for a while. I'm sorry I couldn't get you one sooner, but better late than never, right?"
He opens his palm, revealing a simple, gold band. Denny could never afford one before; how could he now?
"It was my mother's," he says, knowing what I was thinking.
"Your mother's? Are you sure you're okay with me wearing this?"
He nods his head with a serious expression. "I wouldn't want anyone else on this earth to wear it."
Tears sting my eyes, and Denny slips the ring on my left ring finger – it fits like a charm. I laugh and cry at the same time, when I hear someone yelling from behind us.
"HEY! What's going on here?" Denny turns around and I can now see who the voice came from.
One of my bosses, Mr. Harris.
"Mr. Harris, I-I can explain!" I cry out.
"Hush, girl! All I see is you wasting work time, and holding up all the other employees!" Mr. Harris booms.
I glance at the clock, and it's exactly one o'clock – we're supposed to be working at this second.
"I'm s-sorry, Sir, I'll get right to work," I say.
Denny's hand tightens around mine, and I can tell he's holding back.
"And you!" Mr. Harris points to Denny. "You are no longer welcome in this factory – you're a distraction! Get out!"
"Yes, Sir, but you should know this is my fault," Denny replies, hiding his anger as best he can. I give him a reassuring squeeze of the hand before letting go and returning to my station.
"That means nothing to me. This girl should have been working, no matter what. What is your name, girl?" Mr. Harris asks as I'm walking away.
I stop and turn around. "Lillian, Sir."
"Well, Lillian, just for interrupting the work day here, you no longer have a job after today, and you do not get payment for this week!"
"But it's Friday! She's worked all week, and you're going to fire her and not pay her?" Denny shouts.
"Denny, calm down. It's okay," I say, trying to calm him down.
"No, Lillian! What he's doing isn't right! It's not legal, either!"
"And what do you know about the law, young man?" Mr. Harris sneers.
"I happen to work at the B&M Law Firm right down the street, Sir."
"Oh. Well, it matters not if it's legal. You are trespassing on my property right now; get out now!"
"…Fine. But know this isn't over." Denny walks away towards the elevator, but then turns around for some final words to Mr. Harris. "By the way, you might want to clean up around here – if a fire starts, there's no putting this place out with all the fabric everywhere."
"GET OUT!" Mr. Harris shouts, making the room deathly silent. Denny turns, walks in the elevator, and disappears within moments. Mr. Harris snarls at all of us, but stops at me. "Get back to work. All of you!"
I do as I'm told, and work until four thirty, when I need to use the restroom. We get a total of five minutes for using the restroom each work day, so I rush so as not to use up my time.
A couple of minutes later, I'm done. I wash my hands quickly and take my leave.
As I walk out of the restrooms, I find myself greeted by a suffocating cloud of smoke.
Fire.
I run out of the little hallway and into the main factory, only to discover the entire thing being engulfed by flames, smoke taking up space where air should be. Girls are screaming everywhere, running to escape the flames licking at their skirts. Several girls' dresses are on fire, causing the individuals to scream louder than the ones trying to escape. For some, it's too much – they're either fainting or dying right before my eyes – either way, they're going to die if they don't come to.
And there's nothing I can do about it.
Denny was right – there's no putting this fire out!
I start thinking about how I can get out when I come up with an idea.
The stairwell!
I direct my attention to the one door that could save our lives, and then it hits me.
It's locked.
Several workers are piled against the door – many either passed out or dead. The ones that are conscious are banging on the door – screaming and crying and calling out for their parents, friends, and fiancées. I hear desperate, multilingual last words from all around me.
"Arrivederci!"
"Au revoir!"
"досвидания!"
"Auf Wiedersehen!"
I glance over to the elevator, only to discover it's being crowded by over sixty workers, pushing and shoving to get in. There's no way I can get in there.
My heart pounds as I try to find another means of escape, and then I remember the fire escape on the left wall, even though I can't see it through all the smoke. I run through the flames, jump over burning, charred corpses, and knock over some tables that have fabric scraps on them. The screams of all the girls still haven't died down – if anything, they've intensified and become more bloodcurdling as they are burned alive, dying in a miserable, torturous way. I finally make my way over to the fire escape, which is already surrounded by about forty workers. I notice Antoinette is in the middle of the rickety fire escape, and then I hear a snap.
The fire escape plunges down nine stories, taking about twenty workers with it. I hear horrified gasps, terrified screams, and then a giant thud.
Antoinette is gone.
Before I have time to even register what just happened, I feel heat trickling up my legs, and when I look down, I discover I'm on fire.
I scream for the first time, and cough and gag on the smoke that's suffocating the rest of us that are alive. The screams don't let up as I run to the nearest window and look down – there's several hundred people watching us. There are fire trucks and firemen on the ground, begging me to stay put.
The fire continues burning my clothing until it starts charring my skin, and that's when I decide what I must do.
I climb up on the ledge and I notice how far up we really are. My heart is beating out of my chest as I take a deep breath of air – precious, clean air. Several workers line up by the windows like I do, but none yet have the nerve to do what I'm about to.
I jump, knowing this is the end. My life is going to end right here and now, after only seventeen years. I think about Denny, and how he will feel about all this.
If I could tell him anything, it'd be not to worry about me. I'll be fine. I'm sorry we couldn't be married sooner; you know how much I wanted to marry you.
Je t'aime.
My final moments seem to linger, the wind whipping through my hair and encouraging the fire to crawl up my dress even further than it has. It doesn't seem fair that I have to die this way. But I guess I have to accept it.
C'est la vie.
Translations:
Salut ma belle - Hello beautiful
Salut monsieur - Hello sir
"Arrivederci!" - goodbye
"Au revoir!" - goodbye
"досвидания!" - goodbye
"Auf Wiedersehen!" - goodbye
Je t'aime. - I love you
C'est la vie - That's life.
Reviews are appreciated!