First Success

Death is a beautiful and bittersweet thing. It weaves it’s way through families and can make homes in hearts.

When we think of death, we are afraid.

 To us, death is like we are standing on the edge of a chasm, a chasm so deep you can’t see the bottom, and when you look down the walls eventually fade into an inky black. Some of us fall in. 

Some people think it is the unlucky ones who slip, and plunge, screaming, into the darkness. Some think it’s only the best ones that get the lucky privilege of falling in, and experiencing what lays at the bottom.

But is death bad? Death can tear people apart, yes, but it can also bring people together and start relationships that last forever. It is a wondrous and unexplainable thing; an ally, and not a foe, of love.

This is the story of how I and Sadie became inseparable; friends forever.

I step slowly out of the car, feeling like the tall and awkward person I am. My swimsuit, underneath by baggy clothes, is tight against my skin. I stand on the rough pavement barefoot, craning my neck to try and see the pool. I can hear the endless churning of water and the faint joyful yells of kids as they get splashed by peers, or as they plunge into the pool from the slide.

Tessa jumps out if the car and instantly sees the huge playground we have to pass to get to the pool and begins to run towards it, laughing. “I don’t want to swim!” She yells. “This is better!”

My Mom carries Tate out of the car, followed by my Dad. (yep, the whole family. I don’t get why we had to schlep everyone out, instead of just my Mom coming) He takes a look around, at the pool, the enormous playground, the giant metal slide that Tessa is already halfway up, “This is great. Ivy can swim with her little buddies-”

“Ugh, dad!” I barge in. “Sadie and Willa and Ava and Zia, and everyone else, not ‘my little buddies!’”

“Sadie and Willa and Ava and Zia, then,” Says dad. I cross my arms and humph, hiding my smile. He laughs. 

“-and Tessa and Tate can play out here or swim if they want to...” Mom adds onto the sentence dad had started before I interrupted, rolling her eyes.

They continue to chat, even as I tug them towards the pool. “Come on!” I whine impatiently. I know I sound like a child but I don't care. 

This is my friend Sadie’s birthday party. She joined Arbor, my school, this year and we instantly found something we both love to do: write. It didn’t matter that we were seven. We both had a passion and we were determined to pursue it. 

Finally, we convince Tessa to come swim, but not without lots of high-pitched whining from her, and my parents promising of treats when we get home. I pull them towards the pool, my heart beating faster the closer I get. The sun makes me squint, and I throw a hand in front of my face, as we pass through the gap in the fence that allows us into the pool.

Given that we are about 10 minutes late, kids are already in the water. I spot Zia and wave “HI!!” She waves back and dives underwater. 

I turn my head and see Sadie, she’s crouched in the shallow water and seems to be alone. My heart crumples as I walk up to her. I can barely bear to look at her. But I know what I have to do. 

I’m just waking up when my mom calls me down from my room. “Ivy!” She yells. “Come down!” Her voice sounds weird and cracked.

It’s that tone that sometimes means I’m in trouble. I crept nervously down the stairs and see my mom sitting at the table. “Come on,” She says.

I notice that her eyes are red-rimmed and raw, and I ask her, “What’s going on?”

She sniffs. I am more fascinated than worried because this is the first time I’ve seen her cry. I follow her to the guest room. Dad is away so it’s empty, this room doubles as his office.

Mom sits me down on the bed.

“Okay, this is going to be hard,” She says.

I nod. I can tell this is serious.

“Sadie’s mom.” She says. Her voice is shaky. “You know how she… well... she doesn't have any hair?”

“Yeah,” I say. “She wears a hat. She’s pretty.”

“That’s because...” Mom says. This seems to be really hard for her.

I reach forward and put by hand on her shoulder. "It’s okay," I say seriously. “Whatever it is, you can do it. Push through,” I add, remembering one of my mom’s favorite phrases for when something is tough. 

"Sadie’s mom, Franya, has breast cancer. She died today." My mom manages to choke out. "I never really knew her, but It’s a big deal since you guys are friends…"

I take a few seconds to process this, but the intensity hasn’t hit me yet. 

"Mama, what day is it?" I finally ask.

"August 26." She’s crying for real now. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so sad. 

"That means it’s her birthday. Sadie’s, I mean. "

"Yes, I know. So a few days at her party, try to go easy on her, okay?"

Then it hits me, all at once. Sadie’s mom died on her birthday.

I don’t answer. I can’t. It feels like I’m turning to sand and crumbling, my heart breaking down into powdery black dust. I feel an inky blackness start in my heart and spread out to my fingers. I try to stop it but a single tear escapes my eye, and that, underneath my skin, tear seems to trace a line through my dead body, carving a deep valley in the charcoal-like texture of my insides.

"I’m sorry," I say. I don’t even know who I’m talking to. I feel like I’m falling, falling, falling… and I can’t climb back out of this chasm of sadness and grief.

But then suddenly something changed. I somehow saw that I needed to be the strong one. I could get through this and I would help others do the same. I would help by mom, and Sadie. I made the choice to be strong. I looked up at my mom and wiped the tear away. I was going to get through what my mom couldn’t, without my support.

I reached out and hugged her. I felt her hands in mine and our chests touching, our hearts beating together. “Don’t worry,” I said. “It’ll be okay. I’ll be strong for you.”

“Sadie,” I say. Even though I would rather run and leave her alone, I know she needs someone, and I want to be that someone. I know that she will never be the same and sometimes she will need to be left by herself. And I have to be okay with that. I realise that the decision I have made is not going to be an easy one. But I have to do this. For Sadie. 

I peel my clothes off and leave them in a heap at the edge of the pool. I run up to her and throw my arms around her. She hugs me back. “Happy birthday,” I whisper into her ear. Her boy-short brown hair falls over her ear and I pull her head back and look into her eyes.

“Thanks.” She says. It seems like the only thing to say. 

She looks like she’s okay, so I say “Come on, let's go on the slide!” I grab her hand.

She stays where she is. “No. I’m scared.”

“Come on!” I say. “You can’t be scared! You have to be strong, and brave! And I know you will have to be in the future, so why not start now? Come on!”

    She reluctantly gets up. “Alright…”

    “Yay! I’ll go down with you.”

    She smiles a bit. I know that this is an event that will leave a big scar. But on your birthday you're meant to have fun, and I was determined to help her have it. As well, going down the slide would help her remember to stay strong. And in hard times like this, she’d have to be very strong.

    We run into the water that is slowly getting deeper until we're up to our waists and, we have no choice but to swim. We very gracefully doggy-paddle the whole length of the pool and finally we reach the other side. We both pull ourselves out of the pool and begin to climb the tall staircase to the slide. The water rushes down the length of the slide and Sadie looks nervous.

    "No." She says. "I'm going." She begins to head down the steps.

    "No!" I say. Luckily I'm behind her so I stand in her way with my arms out. "Sadie Anne Wallsmith, you will go down this slide. You have to be brave. I'll go down with you."

    I slowly walk up the stairs and she backs up until we're at the top. We're really high up now and I look behind me at the hard metal stairs, and the pavement so far below.  I'm actually a bit nervous, too. "Let's sit next to each other. Come." I grab her hand again. Since I'm seven and this is her seventh birthday, we're both small, and we fit side by side on the slide easily. Her hand grows tighter, clutching mine. I grab the top of the slide to keep us from going down until we’re ready. 

    "one... two, three, go!!" I push us down. All I remember before plunging into the water is her face with her unnaturally big brown eyes, her mouth split into a smile and grinning. At me.

I flower of light and warmth blossomed in by chest. 

    This was my whole goal. To make her happy. 

And that was my first success.

By Ivy Segal