Sarah Before

by Craig Shepherd

  In the fifteen years since moving out of her childhood home, her parents hadn’t moved. The house was too big for them really, but it was their life. A structural tribute to the family and the life they had made. She felt almost nothing that night. Just a numbness which gave way to uncontrollable, gut wrenching tears, where she understood the true meaning of heartbreak for the first time. Where the emotional pain is so intense, and the tears forced from a place so deep inside, that it literally felt like her heart was being squeezed until it would finally stop beating completely. It was a very real pain. The pain of loss that simply can’t be understood until it is experienced. But when the tears stopped, the numbness fell back over her, and the only identifiable memory from that night was the cracked line in the paint across the ceiling which seemed to hold her gaze for hours while she lay on her bed until at some point, she finally slept.

  The memories of the next morning were clearer. It was the day Pokona became her past and the road became her new family. Her new life. All she had was her car and the personal items in it. Her handbag, which she had somehow dragged with her through the turmoil of the previous evening, and a few scattered items in the back seat. While the memory was clearer, she could reflect back now and see that her mind was far from clear. At the time though, in contrast to the almost comatose state she had been in the previous night, she had felt wide awake that morning.

  The air had been cool, with no wind to push the clouds away and let the sun through. The night before, her mother had given her something to sleep in, and washed her other clothes. When Sarah woke that morning, she found her clothes freshly washed and dried, sitting on a chair just inside the door of her old bedroom. She had been thankful for this, since those clothes were basically all she owned then.

  First there was crying because there would be no proper goodbye, no proper gratitude shown. She had showered, dressed, and declined her parents’ offer of breakfast. She thanked them for everything, but it wasn’t apology enough for what she was about to do. Helen Benson, who normally would have shown her motherly concern in a polite, yet firm suggestion for Sarah to eat something, had decided against it. She’d been Sarah’s mother long enough to know that missing a meal wouldn’t kill her, and it wasn’t the time for anything except letting her daughter do what she needed to.

  There was another integral part of that morning Sarah remembered, and was still very confused by. Her anxiety was gone. As she walked out the front door of her childhood home that morning, letting the cool air brush her face, telling her parents she just needed to have some time alone, she felt no fear. If she was harboring any concern about vomiting in public, or that an awkward confrontation with a stranger would leave her frozen and unable to speak, it didn’t show. She had always put it down to the numbness. With everything else taken away from her, perhaps those troubles had been pulled away too. Over the years, she’d had a lot of theories around it, the most horrible being that her family was the cause of her suffering, and with them gone, she was cured. A ludicrous and disgraceful idea, not to mention entirely untrue, but one that had floated into her consciousness at least once over time.

  Standing there in the spot where she had come home intoxicated for the first time, she’d turned her head back to the faded timber of the door, seeing how it had splintered over the years, the clear wood lacquer peeling and curling into pieces that could now be brushed away by hand. The plants near the front steps had grown over time, probably a small miracle considering the treatment given to them by Sarah on the night of ‘1991’. Her heart sank that morning as she saw the doorway, likening it to the shame she had felt on ‘1991’. Except she knew she was being far more cowardly than as a sixteen-year-old. That night she’d gone inside and dealt with the consequences.

  But the morning of November 29, 2009, was some kind of twisted full circle comparison. This time she was walking out the door, and if all went as intended, she would never be facing the consequences of her actions. Her parents would feel something akin to the loss Sarah had felt the previous night. There would be tears, sleepless nights, immense disappointment, fear, worry and anger. All things she was about to be responsible for but would never have to deal with.

  To look back on it now still made her sick with worry. Disgust at herself for the excruciating pain she put her parents through. Above all, the shame of knowing it was too late to change anything. She had turned away from the door that morning, taken her car to the bank where she withdrew everything she had in cash, and she left.

  She didn’t even attend her family’s shared memorial service four days later. No farewell. No last goodbyes. No tears and consolations from friends and family. Just gone. She could only imagine what was said by those she left behind in Pokona. Some would sympathize the pain must be too much for her too take and most would be far less flattering. But those in the minority would have actually been right. Despite the coldness of Sarah’s actions, it was true that it was too much weight for her to deal with. Nobody wants to bury their husband, and the thought of burying one’s children is even more horrifying. To commit both to the ground in one morning would have torn out the small piece of Sarah’s soul still left intact, and no matter how selfish she looked to others, this was one part of it all she didn’t regret.

  People always say the funeral is part of the healing process, and in some cases that could be true. For a terminally ill friend, or a grandparent who finally passes after a long illness. But to Sarah, nothing could ever heal the wounds torn open by losing her two beautiful children and husband. Tasteful memorial service or not. She firmly believed there were some goodbyes which simply couldn’t be said.

  Before any alarm could be raised, Pokona was in her rear view mirror, and thirty-four years of life were gone. Sitting here now, Sarah wondered if that’s what she had truly believed that day. That if she drove out of town, never to return, her entire life to that point would be erased and she could start anew without the burden of history weighing her down. The only thing she was certain of now, was the very clear realization she’d had no idea what she was thinking on that morning. But whatever wild thought process was controlling her had kept doing so for a number of months, maybe even years.

  Since the time she left, even as she worked through her grief and discovered her anxiety disorder was anything but gone, she had taken precautions to ensure she wouldn’t be found. Dealing mainly in cash, not using bank cards for fear her whereabouts would be tracked. Often renting property under assumed names. These things went on for a good three or four years, and then she stopped the secrecy. She had figured people would have given up by that stage, realizing if she hadn’t been found after four years, she didn’t want to be found. It was a hard pill to swallow in some ways, knowing even her parents hadn’t found her. She didn’t want to be found, but there was always part of her that wanted people to try.

  Her parents had given up, her friends had given up, and for the most part, she had given up too. Given up hoping for a rescue from herself, given up regretting the past. She was well past being able to heal the wounds she left behind. Time would do that on its own, and any reappearance into her old world would only serve to tear apart the stitches holding the wounds together.

  Her parents had been the hardest to leave, in no small part because of the cold, heartless way she left, like the fabled father who goes out for milk and never returns. She loved her parents dearly, and knowing the pain she must have caused them was a constant in her life. It was like a baleful dirge song playing in the distance no matter how far she ran, drifting on the breeze that carried her ever present sadness along.

  But the love for her parents was different – it was something she was born into. It came with a weight of expectation. The love may be stronger, more bulletproof and unconditional than anything else, but there was a price to pay for that. She had always felt burdened by the need to make her parents proud. They loved her just the same, whether she did that or not, but the expectation hovered like a heavy rain cloud a
bove their relationship.

  With Jason and the kids, there was also an expectation. Not so much to make them proud, but to help them survive. She was the mother who had to protect her pack. A task at which she had failed miserably no matter how anybody tried to twist it. The price for her family’s love was the pressure that came with it. A pressure which she ultimately couldn’t hold up under.

  The circle she had created with Mel and Josie though, there was a freedom in that. A safety, in knowing she could just be Sarah. She didn’t need to do well at school to please them, she didn’t need to manage finances between the three of them.

  Was this a circle she had now developed with Jane? Certainly it wasn’t yet as solid as the place she had made for herself with Mel and Josie, but was it heading in that direction? And did she want to put that on the line to satisfy the voices in her head who were leading her through a doorway of suspicion without allowing her a view of what lay beyond?

  “Sarah, are you OK? You seem like you’re on another planet,” Jane’s voice cut into her thoughts, almost stunning her out of the other planet she had in fact been on. Before she could stop herself, and without any intention to let her insane train of thought off the tracks, it all came out.

  “Jane, things have been happening, and I don’t know what to do,” the anger she had felt towards her earlier in the day had dissipated, and a needy longing for help had taken its place. Sarah was close to tears as she spoke. “None of it makes any sense, and….and I need to know you’re not a part of this, because if you are, I don’t know what I’m going to do. I’m completely lost.”

  The tears broke. She wasn’t sure why, but figured it was a culmination of all the memories she had just waded through. Emotion overwhelmed her when she looked up to see the concerned look on Jane’s face.

  “What do you mean Sarah?” Jane did seem completely puzzled, further strengthening Sarah’s belief she had made the right move by not hurling accusations in her direction. The wrong move, however, could still play out. She had opened a conversation that would ultimately give her the appearance of being totally insane, and when she planned this evening, she didn’t foresee this part. Jane moved closer and rested a calming hand on her shoulder.

  “How did you know about the article I was working on?”

  CHAPTER 15

  Sarah couldn’t pick up anything sinister in Jane’s expression. Her brow furrowed, but it was in concern. She spoke with a sureness that didn’t lend itself to a lie.

  “You mentioned it to me at my work when we walked past the meat section. Don’t you remember? We laughed at the thought of either of us turning vegan.”

  Confusion stretched across Sarah’s face, and her eyes squinted in deep concentration, trying to recall the moment. She’d burned through a lot of energy earlier trying to recall mentioning the article to Jane, but had come up blank.

  “I…I don’t remember. I don’t think…” her voice trailed off quietly, almost tinged with a sadness, as though she could feel her sanity slipping away like a wet rope plunging over the side of a boat, unable to be grasped.

  “You told me about all the websites you had to read. You didn’t go into much detail, except you thought it all sounded a bit crazy,” there was an air of compassionate certainty in Jane’s voice, like someone speaking to a dementia patient for the first time, unaware there is little to be gained from correcting their foggy recollections.

  Sarah grappled harder with her memory, still unable to find an image which matched Jane’s explanation. The way she spoke though, Sarah believed her. The trip to the shop had probably overwhelmed her at the time. As she thought back, she couldn’t remember everything about her time at the Everyday, as there had been a sense of euphoria consuming her at the time. In her younger days she had shopped with friends regularly, but last week it was like a new experience, one she took in with a degree of wonder. It was the look of worry on Jane’s face that sold her though. It wasn’t the look of someone who was masterminding a psychological assault on a fragile, forty-two year old hermit.

  Aside from when Jane had linked arms with her in the shops on that day, Sarah hadn’t experienced physical contact with anyone since the night before she left Pokona, when her parents had held her tightly and told her it would be OK. But now she wrapped her arms around Jane as the tears rolled down her face once again. Jane hugged back, making her feel for a fleeting moment that everything would be OK after all.

  Her head was resting on Jane’s shoulder when the feeling of comfort passed quickly with Jane’s next words. “What on earth has been happening Sarah? Talk to me.”

  Sarah stayed silent for over a minute, letting the tears stop before she replied, but she was also deciding where to go with this conversation. She had overstepped by confiding in Jane, she was sure of that. If she told her everything, there was a possibility Jane would be gone from her life forever, and she wouldn’t blame her. A pretty girl in her mid-twenties shouldn’t have to concern themselves with the insane ramblings of a damaged woman. But the silence of the moment was tinged with a sense of safety for Sarah. Jane’s arms holding her, and the slim chance her friend would understand and help her through the strangeness swallowing her life in the last month.

  She pulled away from Jane, using the bottom of her sleeve to wipe tears away from the sides of her face. Realizing she had nowhere to run, no way to change the subject, and no way of escaping the situation, Sarah spoke, and there was fear in her voice.

  She started from the beginning, confessing all about the strange hooded figure who appeared to be watching her from the balcony, the car which may or may not have been following Jane home. Jane listened intently, with a look on her face Sarah couldn’t read. It may have been the look of someone who was hearing a story they couldn’t believe, mixed with sympathy and disbelief. She had seen the look before, but couldn’t place it. Her expression changed though, when Sarah told her about what had appeared to be an Everyday Grocery uniform hanging from the balcony of the Selwood Ave apartments, recalling the terror she had felt when thinking Jane was in danger. Jane’s eyebrows raised sharply when she relayed the part of the story involving the PHONE sign which immediately preceded Jane’s call.

  “You thought it was me messing around with you? Sarah, I would never…” Jane spoke with concern rather than anger or disappointment.

  “I know,” Sarah cut in, “I know that now. But you can see how strange this is.”

  She went on to tell her about the hooded protester carrying the MEAT IS MURDER sign, and the manic aftermath of that event which moved its stage back to the balcony. Jane placed a hand on Sarah’s. “And that bring us to now. Jane, I’m so sorry I thought what I did. You’ve been nothing short of amazing to me, and I have no excuse for what I was thinking.”

  Jane regarded her for a moment, and concern lined her young face but the nature of that concern wasn’t apparent. Sarah guessed it could be one of two things. Worry for Sarah’s mental state, and believing it was all in her mind, or she believed every word and was concerned for Sarah’s safety. She hoped it was the latter. More than anything in recent memory, she hoped for the friendship, care and compassion Jane had already shown so much of in their short acquaintance.

  There wasn’t a sound in the house, nor outside. None of the wind which had been recklessly tearing through Calston for the last week, no rain punishing the fragile windows of her house. At some point while Sarah was talking, Jane had turned the TV off without her even noticing. Silence hung heavily in the room, hovering around them, made thicker by the fear Sarah held after confessing everything as she probably should have some time ago.

  Out of the silence, Jane’s voice came softly and cautiously, perhaps feeling some trepidation of her own. It was unlikely she had been in a situation like this before, and Sarah could appreciate a million thoughts would be running through the poor girl’s mind as she tried to process what she had been told. Trying to work out if she should be afraid or whether she should call the nearest menta
l health facility to come and collect her raving mad friend can’t have been an easy decision to make in such a short spell of silent thought.

  “I wish you had spoken to me about this earlier. I don’t know what I could have done, but I could have at least been here for you. Instead of you sitting here thinking I was behind all of this,” Jane suddenly sounded older than her years, speaking with a maturity Sarah didn’t expect, no matter how highly she regarded her. “Have you contacted the police?”

  “And tell them what? Someone is holding signs up to me and painting on their balcony? I didn’t tell you, my only real friend, because I was worried you would think I’m crazy. I can only imagine what the police would say,” Sarah’s voice was still shaky, still vulnerable, and she didn’t want it to be. All she wanted right now was safety. She secretly hoped Jane would just hold her in her arms again, and she could stop talking about it now. But she didn’t want to make that move and feel weaker than she already did.

  “I guess. But there has to be something we can do about it. You haven’t been hurt yet, but who knows what is next?” Jane suddenly became the voice of reason Sarah had been missing. With every incident she buried, she had tried harder to shovel soil over her fears. Somewhere in the back of her mind, maybe even while she slept, the thoughts of being in physical danger must have swum around her head more than once, but she hadn’t wanted to hear it. With everything she’d been through in her life, she’d developed an almost unconscious tendency to hide her troubles away. She knew how they manifested if she let them out, and she hated it.

  The panic and fear was the reason for the pain which had filled the last ten years of her life. Or it was a symptom of that pain. For Sarah, it had gone on so long now that it was a bit like the chicken or the egg question. Whichever it was, the connection was undeniable and she wanted to avoid that as much as possible. With Jane’s very simple assessment of the situation, Sarah realized she had been fooling herself since this all began. Fooling herself into thinking it would all be OK, that it wasn’t serious.