Immigrant: A Fictional Narrative

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Startled, I looked up to see Rose staring at me intently. Of course she sees my nervousness. She comes closer puts her hands on my knees and says,

“You will look amazing if you do this, but, you don’t have to, I support you either way.” Her famous line, “I support you.” This explains the depth of our friend, not only can she sense my nervousness but she truly lends her support to me no matter the decision. I give her smile and say, “I did promise you.” The barber starts measuring my hair.

“I feel aberrant.” I say to Rose, “I always convince you to do these types of things!”

“Well, your reign has come to an end, now I must attempt to conjure up circumstances that make you squirm a little.” We both giggle because we know the truth behind
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While no one in my family holds the current office of governor, a relative held the first office as governor in Plymouth. He died shortly after coming over on the Mayflower, however, my family still remembers him. My family’s old money accumulates more and more throughout the years and provides an ever expanding labyrinth of gardens for Rose and I to have a picnic in.

We arrive at the florid estate just in time to see lavish flower pots large enough to require multiple carriers and so beautiful I stop and turn to look, a costly decision since my mother and a swarm servants approach me with faces that look as though they require answers. I step over to the truck delivering these beautiful creations in an effort to appear busy by admiring the lavender and fern in their lushly perfect compilations as my mother
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Some responses have come back, however, no scheduled interviews yet.”

“How have you survived without Martha?”

“Usually one of the kitchen girls comes up to help me, but, I wish to hire my own maid. Don has already given me wage parameters so I hope to make an offer soon.”

“You must hire her before the wedding so she can help and take the stress off of the day. It is also one of the first steps in building your own home, how exciting!”

Rose and I finally make it to the Italian gardens and lily pond. We take off our hosiery and sit on the decorative cement wall and dip our toes in the water to relax from the August heat as we continue our conversation. In the distance Rose sees a portion of the kitchen staff coming with our lunch and looks at me for direction.

“Just stay here.” I

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