Death Be Not Proud

Inwe Tasartir

DEATH be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not so,
For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,
Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell,
And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well,
And better then thy stroake; why swell'st thou then;
One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.

Sonnet 72

John Donne

Chapter 2: He's Not Coming

We boarded the plane for Tokyo at 3 in the afternoon on the sixth of October. Within minutes of the plane taking off, my little sister (so what if she's only younger than me by five minutes?), Bayleigh, fell asleep on my shoulders, her raven hair covering her dark blue eyes. We were in for a long trip and I'm sure that sleeping now would help to alleviate some of the jetlag I knew we were going to experience after landing in Tokyo.

I entertained the idea of falling asleep too, but all thoughts of sleep were quickly shot down, there were a million thoughts running through my head and I knew I wouldn't be able to. Well, that and the screaming baby sitting behind us.

It was all my fault we were on this plane getting ready for the biggest move of our lives. There, I said it; some of the guilt in my conscience has been relieved for a moment. It was my fault that Bayleigh had to drop everything for the third time in two years, that she had to leave behind her friends, her dancing, and her life. It was my entire fault.

But I had to hand it to her, not once had she complained, yelled at me, or given me the cold shoulder. Whenever mom told her that we were moving again she would simply put a big smile on her face and tell me that she always wanted to see the world and what better time to do it than now. That just succeeded in making me feel even guiltier because I could see that she was just putting up a front, trying to remain positive even though it killed her to leave everything behind again. I also knew that the last thing she had wanted to do was live with that ass we were both forced to call "dad."

I begged my mother to let Bay stay with her until she finished her senior year in high school there in California, she didn't need to be punished for my actions. But my mother had already made up her mind, she said that it would be good for Bayleigh to meet new people. In my own selfish way I agreed with her. I knew that leaving her behind in America would break my heart because I wouldn't be there to protect her and watch over her everyday. But I still failed to see how moving Bay across the world and into our father's house would do any good for her.

My father. That was another issue all in itself. After four years, I was going to have to live with the same man that had left us at the drop of a dime to go fulfill his own selfish dreams. I can attribute the way I am now to him. Though it is mostly my fault, I got in with the wrong people at the wrong time. Doesn't mean I still can't hate him for hurting my family, right?

ときょ、にほんご

The plane landed about seventeen hours later. Bayleigh slept through most of the flight only getting up for a few hours before falling asleep again. I, however, spent the flight thinking about Clay and Cindy…

あめりか

"Nice ride."

I had been packing my stuff into the passenger seat of the car when I heard her voice. Bayleigh was staying after school for a meeting so I was going to go home, drop off my stuff, and come back for her later.

I turned around to face the owner of the voice. It was Cindy, Clay's cheerleader girlfriend. I had heard the sarcasm in her voice but decided to grace her with an answer anyway.

"It does the job."

"What job? Delivering pizza?

I just smiled and said, "It's not the ride, it's the rider." She must have understood what I meant because she smiled back and gave me the once over.

"What the hell's that?"

An angry voice suddenly interrupted us. I looked past Cindy's shoulder to see Clay who was looking very pissed off.

"You talking to my girl?"

I stood up straight.

"Well, she was just admiring my ride."

Clay let out an amused scoff.

"My grandma's Buick could smoke that piece of shit, trailer trash."

I looked over at the car he was driving.

"What about Daddy's Viper?" maybe I didn't have to go home after all. I could keep myself occupied like this for the next twenty minutes.

"This beast's got 500 horse power, a broiler exhaust system. It does 0 to 60 in like 4.3 seconds." He looked over to his friends for approval. They were all laughing so he put a stupid grin on his face that screamed "ass." I, however, was not impressed at all. What he just said only proved that he had read the same car magazine I had.

"Wow, you can read the brochure." I said, sarcasm dripping off of my words. I got into my car and had started to drive away when something came crashing through my window. That yuppie piece of shit threw a baseball through my window! I looked back in shock and thanked any god that would listen that Bay was not in the car. Immediately I grabbed the wrench off of my dashboard and angrily got out of the car being sure to slam the car door.

We stood squaring each other off. I was playing with the wrench in my hand and he was flexing his fingers, eager to throw a punch. Then Cindy stepped between us.

"Why don't you nice boys let your cars do the talking?" I instantly smiled. That had to have been the smartest stupid idea I'd ever heard come out of her mouth.

"I only race for pink slips." I informed Clay. He looked at me incredulously.

"This car goes for 80 grand. What would I do with a broken ass piece of shit like that?" I heard his friends laugh again. Why was Clay so sure he was going to win? I stared him down until Cindy came up with another proposal.

"How about me?" I grinned as I made my way to my car again and followed the rowdy crowd of teenagers to the Shangri-La Estates.

I never did pick Bayleigh up from school.

ときょ、にほんご

"We could just get a cab."

"No Sean, he said he would be here."

"If he was going to be here he would have come an hour ago bay." I said angrily. I looked down at her and instantly felt the guilt well up inside of me. She looked like her dog had just been run over by a truck. I wanted to hit our father for not keeping his promise.

At that same exact moment a red car, which I assumed was a taxi, opened its door for us. I reached down and grabbed our luggage hauling it to the car. I noticed that Bay wasn't next to me and looked back. She was standing on the curb defiantly staring at me with her arms crossed. I sighed and walked over to her gently saying, "He's not coming."

With those t here simple words she let her head drop and she silently walked over to the car defeated. I got in after her and gave the driver the address. Thankfully he understood enough English to get the address or I'm sure we would have been lost.

We sat most of the ride in uncomfortable silence. Bayleigh wouldn't look over at me and from the way she sniffled every so often I knew she was crying. By the end of the ride I was livid and I knew that once we got there I was going to have to show a whole lot of restraint.