Lady Liberty

Chapter 15

Author's Note: We made it to the final chapter, everyone! Writing this series was such an amazing journey, and I'm so grateful you were all able to walk the journey with me. Thank you for all of your support, and I hope you enjoy the chapter.
P

.S. The folk song that cameoed here was "The Girl I Left Behind Me". It first appeared in Ireland in 1791.
Sit up straight like a lady, America.
Speak only when you are given permission to do so.
Don't be so rowdy, it's unattractive.
Mind your figure.
You're a young woman. Dress the part.
Her birthday was always a show-wild, extravagant, and unbound.
And that was just the way she liked it. No one could tell her the fireworks were too noisy, or the streamers were too colorful, or that the confetti was an unnecessary nuisance.
No, it was her day to be completely and unequivocally herself with all of the luxury and freedom to do as she pleased. She would slouch and leave her legs uncrossed, eat as much as she desired, wear whatever outfit made her comfortable, and speak loudly with a roar of authority and confidence.
Fine just the way she was, nothing needed to be concealed.
"I thought I'd arrive early to see if you could use any help," Canada offered upon crossing the threshold of the house, bright-eyed and full of cheer as he deposited her present on a side-table. His joy was contagious, and the air seemed to perform a waltz at his presence. "Happy Birthday, sis."
America mimicked the dose of happiness and began to gorge her brother with an expansive selection of party snacks. "Thanks, Matt, but you didn't have to go through the trouble. I'm not expecting that many people anyway-just a few other nations."
"What constitutes a few?"
"Hmm, let's see," she mumbled, trying to recall the majority of the guest list. "Japan, China, France, Germany, Prussia, Spain, the Italian brothers, Lithuania, Poland, and you. That's pretty much the whole team, I think. Austria, Hungary, South Korea, and Mexico couldn't make it. I tried to keep the group small this year, mainly because being the host is hard when there are over a hundred countries hanging around."
Canada crunched on a pretzel and sat on the kitchen counter, legs dangling and one elbow propped up to hold his weight. "I feel so privileged to be part of your exclusive squad."
"Don't be. I'm obligated to invite you," America joked and stuck out her tongue. "It'd look pretty bad if my own brother wasn't here."
And then, they stumbled upon words which should have been left unspoken.
"Looks pretty bad when your former fatherland doesn't show up too," Canada supplied with a muffled mutter, biting into a cheese puff. He hadn't meant any harm, but the effect was inevitable.
Catching the connotation of the remark at once, America narrowed her eyes into a scowl and cracked open a can of beer. "Don't say things like that; you know it's a sensitive topic. This is a day to be enjoyed, so don't bring up depressing stuff."
"You're right. It was dumb of me to say, and I'm sorry."
"You should be."
"I am."
"Hmph."
They turned on the stereo to fill in the awkward silence after a while, humming along to a pop hit as America cleaned the house and finished laying out the food. Over two hundred years had passed since that fateful day, but it seemed America's heart was still as raw as ever.
Fortunately, it was quite a beautiful day-the sun gleamed against the backdrop of the sky and planted a warmth in their chests. The smell of grilled steak and hamburgers wafted throughout the city as families gathered for sizzling barbeques, powwows brimming with gossip, and galas of summer sweetness. The weather offered a gentle reprieve from fickle memories.
"You sure you don't need any help setting up?"
"No, I'm all right, thanks," America insisted, hanging up some streamers in the living room. "I like preparing my own birthday parties like a loner."
Canada cracked a smile and shrugged his shoulders. "Hey, it's your day; you can make all the decisions."
"That's the plan."
"Hey, Amelia?"
She flashed a grin and blinked. "Yes, Matthew?"
"I've noticed you look a little down today."
"You should get your eyes checked, Matt. I'm obviously chipper at the prospect of being able to celebrate my kickass birthday."
"Evading the problem with jokes isn't going to do any good."
America taped the end of a streamer to the wall and pursed her lips. "It's nothing."
Always the more observant twin, Canada wrinkled his nose and raised his eyebrows. "His absence never seemed to bother you before, you know. Granted, maybe you were good at hiding it."
"That's not what this is about."
"Really? You can't fool me. Listen, you should talk to him. After two centuries, I think it's about time you gave him a call on your birthday. You guys always avoid this day like the plague, but it doesn't have to be that way," Canada reasoned, helping himself to another cheese puff. "Besides, what's the worst that could happen?"
America snorted and climbed onto a stepping stool to reach the ceiling. "Why should I be the one to call?"
"You can put away your stubbornness and pride for one day, Amelia."
"No, I can't."
"How about I call him then?"
"God, no! I can't trust you with that kind of task."
Canada rolled his eyes and surrendered, folding his arms behind his head before lying down on the couch. How many times were they going to go through this?
"Come on, America. What do I have to do to convince you?"
They shared a heavy silence as America hopped off of the stool and collapsed into the nearest armchair, looking rather disheveled and ragged. "When will you finally learn, Canada?"
"Learn what?"
"You can't fool a fool."
Amelia,
I must admit I was quite taken aback by your blatant accusations against me-stunned, in fact. However, nothing could compare to my bewilderment at your apparent literacy. It's been a while since you've had to utilize the skill of written speech, and it's a miracle you've retained some understanding of the intricate language that is English.
Your prose could use some refinement, but there'll be a time and place for that in the future.
Now, I believe a bit of clarification is required on my part. When I rode out my affinity with imperialism, I did not seek to become anyone's ally or companion, let alone a mentor. I was, at the time, quite like you-young and naïve, not to mention amazed by the idea of exerting control on a land across the ocean in order to call it my own. You must understand the absurdity of the position I was in. My first encounters with colonialism in the New World were unsuccessful, and I was desperate to establish a sphere of influence before France or Spain could become too powerful for comfort.
You were the vein of gold among the common rabble, and you were practically handed to me on a silver platter. I could not resist. You would have done the same, I'm afraid.
And yes, I was then stuck with a needy brat who vied for my attention at every given second of the day. You couldn't be left unsupervised for a single minute, and I spent an abhorrently long amount of time in the colonies, determined not to let this new fortune turn sour like the rest.
It was a pity then, when you transformed into an even worse nightmare.
Although I had stayed by your side, maintained the health of your economy, and kept your politics relatively democratic, you still had the nerve to be displeased. I had not foreseen such a twist in events, I'll admit. Perhaps a nagging whisper in my ear did consider the possibility, but I quashed it with sheer will.
The gender disparity posed an entirely new issue. I suppose it filled me with an even greater need to protect you from contact with the outside world. You were too young to understand the discrimination that would've been directed against you, and the scornful remarks made toward women with too much ambition or a willingness to be educated. I never meant to restrain you from chasing knowledge, but we were both in a delicate situation politically, and the social standards were far different then as opposed to now.
I must say, I'm quite proud of the way you handled such criticisms. You were right all along; never allow anyone to make you feel inferior.
In terms of the empire, you weren't much of a loss, and there's no need for me to be discreet about that information. You know it, I know it, and so does everyone else. Our breakage was a personal affair, seeing as I was doing just fine with my colonies in Asia.
Nonetheless, you were, indeed, my first successful attempt at colonization, and I had made several mistakes in the process. I allowed myself to see you as a separate entity, instead of treating you as a part of me. It sounds rather morbid when put in this manner, but it is the stark truth.
I treated you humanely. I was perceptive to your feelings and concerns-cared for you like any other guardian would have done for a child.
I knew I could not make the same blunder twice. Every colony afterward was regarded with a different air-a distance that could not be traveled. You introduced me to such hesitance, and it was a vital lesson.
I think it's fair to say that we both made inescapable choices, but we could have been worse.
I grew fond of the emptiness, the bitter fruit of our arguments, and the frustrated soliloquies uttered into the barren house of our youth. It's all you can do at times-teach yourself to love your demons. Otherwise, you'll never feel the warmth of company on your soul, the sweetness of an apple on your tongue, or the rhythm of honeyed words passing through your lips. Love the hatred. It's the only method of healing such wounds.
Now, in regards to your disrespectful claims, I am not sentimental. Rather, I appreciate the preservation of memories. I've lived a long life, Ms. Jones, and when you've been around for as long as I have, you realize how precious such fleeting moments are amidst economic woes and warfare.
One could argue, god forbid, that you were cute during some miniscule stage of your life. Of course, I beg to disagree, but if such statements had any standing, then I don't think it'd be unreasonable for me to lament over that era. Contrary to your beliefs, my memory isn't quite as crusty as you think, and according to what I recall, you were not, at any time, a "monster", as you so plainly put. A pest, certainly, but not a monster.
What became of you after you left my care, however, is entirely up for debate.
As for your birthday, I think we've both made our positions on the issue clear. It's an unfortunate matter, but there's little that can be done about it. Nevertheless, I extend my sincerest blessings to you, despite my expected absence.
Besides, I highly doubt you'll miss my presence. You'll appreciate the day more without my griping and nattering. Stuff your gob with cake, fawn over the fireworks, and let the remembrances of the past disappear with the breeze-you need not worry yourself with them.
I hope you spare a moment to look up at the stars and remind yourself of all of the beauty life still holds in store for you. Reach for them just as you used to.
And then, it's straight to bed! Your circadian rhythm is fussy at best, and I don't want to get another phone call at four in the morning about how your insomnia is keeping you up again.
With candid wishes,
Arthur Kirkland
"It's a gorgeous evening. The skies are clear-perfect conditions for the fireworks."
"Uh-huh."
"Did you like the birthday cake France made? I helped, but he didn't want to give me any of the credit."
"Yeah, it was great, Matt."
"You should open up all your presents once the guests go home. I want to see what you got."
"Okay."
Canada bit his lip and crossed his arms against his chest, eyes fixated on America's ever-visible frown. "Everything okay?"
"Yup, you bet. Couldn't be better," she assured, not very convincing. She leaned against the railing of the stoop and hummed to herself in thought, a despondent expression blanketing her face. Her strained smile never crinkled her eyes, stopping at the curvature of her cheeks.
"Maybe you should head back inside? You're the host, after all."
"In a little bit. I need a breather first, y'know? Why don't you go and find France so I can personally thank him for the cake? I'll be there in a minute."
Canada gave her a slanted brow and nodded, disappearing behind the safety of the front door.
Finally, she could appreciate the loneliness of the moonlit night. She could see the ombre hues of darkened blue painting the heavens, keeping her in a state of restlessness. More than two hundred years and here she was, staring up at the sky as though she'd been a colony only yesterday. What would've happened if she'd stayed under someone's wing for the rest of her life? Would things have been simpler? Would she still have craved her freedom?
"A penny for your thoughts?"
Startled, America gripped the railing of the front steps more firmly, heart leaping into her throat.
Surely, he hadn't... Maybe she was more fatigued from the party than she'd initially thought.
"England?"
"Shouldn't you be partaking in the celebration?" the man asked as he approached, hiding a bag behind his back. He strolled over to the stoop and met America's eyes, carefully observing her startled state.
"W-Well, yes, but... What are you doing here?"
England creased his forehead and glowered. "I received an invitation, remember?"
Breathless and stunned, America tried to make sense of the surreal figure before her. "Yeah, but... You've never visited me on my birthday before... Not in over two centuries."
Now worried that he was an unwanted guest, England held a hand up to halt their discussion. "Would you like me to leave?"
"Leave?" America gaped, her mouth growing dry. She walked a few steps forward and placed her hands on England's shoulders to make sure it was really him. Yes, those were his bony scapulas beneath his blazer, and no one else in the world possessed such striking green eyes. "Have you lost your mind?"
"I-"
Before the elder nation could complete his statement, there were arms rushing upward and coiling themselves around his neck, drawing him close to his former colony.
"Of course I don't want you to leave, you ass. Took you long enough to finally make an entrance."
A shaky exhale fluttered against his hair, and he cupped America's head with a firm hand, unable to hide his relieved smile. In spite of the throbbing in his head and the gurgling acid in his stomach, pinpricks of glee worked their way over his skin, leaving him slightly giddy.
"I'm... I'm happy to be here," England muttered after a moment, flustered and out of his element. The poor man didn't know what to do with himself when he wasn't in a foul mood.
America's heart swelled as the words graced her ears, and she tightened their hug in response. "It's so good to see you."
England didn't know what he'd been expecting, but it certainly wasn't this. He might've been prepared for a violent argument or the silent treatment, but he could not have foreseen being greeting with open arms.
To make matters even more remarkable, a wetness began to seep into his chest, causing him to tense in America's grasp.
"A-America? Are you crying?"
Still as stubborn as always, the younger nation shook her head and mumbled some indistinguishable words into his dress shirt. The fireworks above them erupted with a bang, spewing out glittering colors into the night-a cosmic celebration.
"Don't... America, it's all right. I didn't mean to upset you. I just-" England began helplessly, running his fingers through her hair. "So many years and we still haven't changed. Sometimes I worry that you'll leave just as you left for the first time. And if you do, or when you do, it'll probably be for the best. You don't need an old bugger like me holding you back."
America frowned and dried her tears, forehead pressed into England's jacket. "You didn't hold me back; you pushed me onward... We're too human for our own good, and because of that, we're stuck together," she replied with a strained grin. "We're also far too similar."
"Now I know something must be wrong with you-how could you admit being related to me?"
"You get tired of denying it as the years roll on," America chuckled, taking the other nation by the hand. "It took me a long time to see it, but now I know we're reflections of one another. I don't know how long I'll be leading the world, how many laughs and sobs await us, or how many days I'll pray for this to all be over. And even though I don't know any of that, I know we'll somehow be okay. We always are."
England drew in a breath and let the summer air sink deep into his lungs. "How can you be so sure?"
America released his hand and broke their embrace, choosing to stare up at the fireworks instead. "I know because I think back to those days in our old house. I remember feeling the tug of love in my heart, my awe for the world at large, the pain of war, the way the rain cleansed us of all of our hatred on that day... I think of those times, and I'm assured that each dawn is capable of sharing something miraculous with us. It's not the end. No matter how advanced our society becomes, there's always more on the horizon. And you taught me that."
Her former guardian knitted his brows and gave her an incredulous look. It was rare for them to be so genuine with one another. They sewed themselves masks long ago to protect their unmarred faces. "I taught you that? Whatever do you mean?"
"You roused me out of bed in the mornings, scolded Canada and I, enlisted us to help you with chores, took us down to the river to play, made hot cocoa and scones... By doing all those things, you taught me the beauty in simplicity-how wonderful it is to be human and alive, regardless of our political status. We were enough. We didn't have to be the greatest nations in the world to be on the receiving end of your care. Sure, there was a component of imperialism to your doings, but most of it had nothing to do with you being an empire. You loved us because you loved us-honestly and truly. Nation or not. Colony or child."
"Who said I was capable of love?" England spluttered, uncomfortably warm.
America laughed and gave the man a strong squeeze once more. "Even though we had our differences, you were one hell of a father figure, all things considered."
"Not that I don't appreciate the sentiment, but if we stand out here any longer, Ludwig and Gilbert will drink all of the beer. And then what will I have to stave off my headache?"
"You couldn't let me relish in the moment for too long, huh?"
"Of course not," England winked with a smirk, ruffling her hair. "Let's head inside."
"This is why we can't have nice things," America groused.
"Happy Birthday, love."
"Don't tell me what to do."
"Ungrateful little brat."
"Happy birthday to me," America sang to herself as she cleared the coffee table in the living room, tossing soiled paper plates and cups into the trash. A few of the guests had offered to stay and help her clean up, but she declined all of their offers, enjoying the mindless act of cleaning.
It was late and the last of the guests had departed over an hour ago, leaving her in the cool solitude of her home.
"The bee shall honey taste no more,
the dove become a ranger
The falling waters cease to roar,
ere I shall seek to change her
The vows we made to heav'n above
shall ever cheer and bind me
In constancy to her I love,
the girl I left behind me."
Such an old song, and yet, the lyrics slipped past her lips with practiced ease. They soothed the burning in her heart and readied her for sleep. She tidied up the final remnants of the party and changed into something cozier before dragging her slipper-covered feet to the bedroom.
What a day. What a pleasant twist of events for once.
She glanced at the nightstand and recalled the gifts she'd received from her friends. A gift basket full of organic cosmetics and a Starbucks gift card from Matthew, some fine wine and pastries from Francis, a new videogame from Kiku, some books on philosophy and a box of chocolates from Ludwig and Gilbert-the list went on.
However, she'd saved one present so that she could open it in private like she always did.
Gently, she removed the gift box from the bag that Arthur had given her and undid the ribbon tied around the outside. It had been wrapped with precision, and America couldn't help feeling touched at the effort.
She snatched the lid off and pushed aside the wads of tissue paper before finding a card along with a necklace. Perusing the necklace first, she ran a finger over the ruby in the middle of the silver pendant. Flipping it to the other side, she discovered the brief quote engraved on the back.
"Even fools are right sometimes."
-Winston Churchill
She burst out laughing at that, biting down on her lip to contain her toothy grin. She should've expected something of the sort.
After mulling over the gift for another minute, she fitted the jewelry around her neck and picked up the card that had accompanied it. The words from the tales of King Arthur that she'd read as a child immediately caught her attention.
"Draw forth your sword from underneath the iron of circumstance, America.
Always humbly yours,
-Arthur Kirkland"
She let the card fall from her hands and turned toward the window, settling her gaze upon the moon. Dawn would find her again soon.
"I will, Arthur. That's one thing you can count on, old man."
When her head met her pillow later that evening, she dreamed of a glorious future, and it filled her with profound hope.
She knew that her history had just begun.

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