by Amelia Star
As I come slowly down the hill, I’m watching other cars coming toward me as they approach the currents. The drivers hesitate. They know the standard advice doled out by the media about what exactly you should do in this situation – you should never drive through water like this, especially when there’s no way to tell how deep it is. The people who obviously aren’t on their way to see the woman of their dreams tonight.
But I’m necessarily thinking rationally as I forge ahead, driving my old pickup straight into the raging waters.
For about two seconds, it keeps going. The engine sputters and soon dies. And there I am, stalled in the middle of the flood.
First things first, I call a tow truck. I need to get moving as soon as possible.
With that done,
I decide to get out and see if there’s anything I can do to get my dear jalopy moving on her own by giving her a nudge or two forward.
Getting soaked as I lean out the open pickup truck door,
I hear a distinct “plop.” sense of foreboding comes over me.
“Don’t even tell me that sound was what I think it was,” I say out loud.
I hope they’ll not need a call back from me. Because, sure enough, that was my phone that fell in the water when I was leaning out the door. Defeated, I get back in my truck to wait for the tow to arrive.
Leaning back against the headrest, I stare unseeingly at the storm. Cars approach the intersections, see me stranded, and turn around. I imagine Sarah in her studio, in her pastel fairyland apartment, getting ready for my arrival. Her scent is practically filling this truck – left here from the few times she’s ridden with me before – something flowery and sweet.
I close my eyes and breathe in, wondering how to get a message to her. Her phone number is stored in my phone – but who memorizes phone numbers anymore?
Knowing Sarah and her dedication to the kids, she’ll probably just get in her car and drive on over to East St. Louis when I don’t show up.
I hear the tow truck pulling up and open my eyes. Thank god. Maybe I still have a chance at salvaging something from this evening.
◆◆◆
It’s after 6:00 now. Once the tow guy got my car out of the intersection and hauled it in for a workover, I walked across the street to the rental place and picked up a little sapphire convertible for the weekend. It’s all they had available with such short notice. But I need a vehicle so I can implement my romantic plans. I’m not wasting time by trying to get home for my Lexus.
Same with getting a new phone. Top priority in order to reach out to my woman.
Frustrated, I stare at the screen, wishing I’d backed up my drowned phone within the last month because Sarah’s number isn’t on here.
I arrive at Rosewood as evening descends. The rain has stopped for the moment. The kids wait for their parents in the parking lot with Ted and Serena. They hoot and holler as I pull into a space and get out of the convertible.
“Smooooth ride,” Ted smiles, drawing out the vowels to emphasize what a nice car I’m driving. “And who are we trying to impress today?”
The kids surround the vehicle, while Serena guards over them. “Don’t you be scratching Mr. Sean’s nice car now, you guys.”
I distribute a bag of mini-wrapped chocolate candy bars I got at the phone place, having anticipated their eagerness to get close to this vehicle.
“Oh, my favorite, Sean! Thanks!” the kids shout.
Ted and Serena collect the discarded wrappers, and then notice me looking around. Ted comes over to me. “What happened, dude? Neither you nor Sarah show up – and I don’t hear from you to have any clue as to what’s going on? The kids were really disappointed.”
“Oh, don’t tell me that,” I say. “Sarah didn’t come?” It’s true. I don’t see her anywhere.
“Well – no,” Ted shakes his head, like it’s obvious.
While I explain to Ted and the kids what happened to me, anger and disappointment rises in my gut, from deep in a part of me – the part of me that’s still a child waiting outside the boarding school for his mother to come pick him up.
Not just for me, but for the kids. These children who have likewise been disappointed by a woman who obviously has more important priorities than the hearts of twenty-seven kids who’ve fallen madly in love with her.
Sarah can dump me, she can treat me like a one-night stand and fling me to the side if that was her scene. I’ll make it work, I hope. But the hearts of children. To break the hearts of children – twenty-seven children who have virtually nothing to count on from day to day but the bleak despair of a community fighting for life. Seeing her smiling face three times a week makes a huge difference. She’s, a symbol of the world beyond, all the doors that she is opening for them – I’m not going to let her take any of that hope away from them.
“Okay, kids – remember we’re going to see the Arch tomorrow?” I ask in as cheerful a tone as I can summon.
“Yeah, Sean,” they shout and jump up and down, as resilient as ever.
“Be here at 8:00 sharp. I’ll see you then.”
“Don’t drive your fancy convertible in the water tomorrow, Sean.” Leslie, one of the smallest but also the smartest of the bunch, gets a good laugh from the other boys and girls.
“Don’t worry, I learned my lesson – and I sure hope you learned a lesson from my mistake, too! Now, come on – let’s get you inside until your parents arrive.”
The kids chatter about the trip to the Arch across the river in the morning. I hand Ted the rest of the bag of chocolate bars. I’m about to get back in the convertible when I hear a scream from around the side of the center.
“Sean! Ted! Come quick!” It’s Serena. She’s covered with mud and running toward us. “It’s Franklin and Robert! They were playing near the creek again and fell in – and the waters are really deep! Come on! We don’t have much time!”
“Ted, get these kids inside and call 911!”
I follow Serena around the building as I hear a car pulling into the lot. Assuming it’s one of the parents, I keep running. There’s no time to waste for explanations. I run through the rain, undoing my tie and dropping my suitcoat on the pavement.
EIGHT – SARAH
My trip to Rosewood takes longer than usual, due to the heavy rain. I knew perfectly well that a lot of the kids might be gone by the time I arrived. Even if I only get to see a few of them, I wanted them to know I would always do my best for them to be here, no matter what.
Pulling into the Rosewood parking lot, I immediately notice a fancy blue convertible parked in front of the door. I look around and don’t see Sean’s pickup.
The blue convertible must be his. He decided to come without me, in a new hotrod. If he ditched me for a sweet ride, well, he is going to get a piece of my mind.
“Sarah!” Serena comes running around the corner of the building. “I thought that might be you. Can you help Sean while I get Ted?”
“Help Sean? What’s going on, Serena?”
“He’s at the creek. Some of the boys fell in!”
She doesn’t have to say anything else. I run through the mud as fast as I can.
The rain pours down. Just running across this yard of ankle-high muck is nearly impossible. But I keep going – I see Sean in the water at the edge of the creek, and the boys holding onto the makeshift bridge made out of plywood.
The closer I get, the better I can see Franklin and Robert, drenched and shivering. They’re barely holding onto the plywood planks as the water rises.
Meanwhile Sean is pitching about, getting tossed as he attempts moving from one piling to the next – there’s only two more to go, but the water is moving fast and the rain makes it hard to see.
“Sean!” I shout, launching my body forward through the ferocious roiling swells.
“Robert! Franklin! Don’t worry! We’re going to get you out of here just fine.”
Sean turns, realizing I’m in the water with him. “What the hell? Are
you crazy? I can handle this!”
“Don’t be an idiot!” I keep moving forward. “I’m here to help.”
We are in the middle of a storm of confusion – and saving these boys is the only thing that matters now.
Sean pushes forward through to the next piling. He reaches out and grabs Franklin, then passes him back to me. Once I’ve got Franklin on the planks – I tell him to run fast back inside, then turn around and Sean already has Robert for me. I lift him out of the flood water. The whole rescue operation is finished in less than five minutes.
Sean and I stand beside the creek, rain pelting our bodies – hearts racing with the relief of the rescue. The boys have already gone inside.
I’m not quite certain what to do, and judging from his hesitations, Sean doesn’t know either.
Finally, I shout, “What happened? Why didn’t you answer my messages?”
“Sarah! I was on my way –”
“So, you tried coming. But you never made it.”
“Sarah, no – you don’t understand,” he tries to rationalize his mistake. Then he takes a small step back, pausing thoughtfully. Rubbing his chin, he says, “Why did you come to the center so late today? Didn’t you realize the kids depend on you?”
“Oh, mister,” I say. “You’ve got a lot of nerve. I have my own personal priorities, and you’re too busy buying a car to care about anyone but yourself. And you accuse me of not caring about the kids?”
Sean’s dark eyes give me a look that says it all. He blames me. He thinks I ditched the kids. He doesn’t take any responsibility for anything that happened tonight.
Out from the growing darkness, Ted’s voice calls – “Hey, you two lovebirds! If you’re not drowning in the creak, would you mind coming inside and letting these munchkins know you’re alright?”
I give Sean my most glowering look. I can’t remember when I’ve been so angry.
He gives me a look that’s equally vicious.
I’m done talking to him. If he can’t own up to his mistakes, he’s not worth any more of my time. Still, I’m not going to let him get the best of me. “Lovebirds,” I say sarcastically, and turn in the slippery mud. I slosh through the muck back to the parking lot and let the rain wash over me a moment to get cleaned off enough to go inside and let the kids know I’m okay.
Sean and Ted talk together at the door, and I wait for them to go inside first.
Looking down, holding back tears of rage, I stomp my feet hard on the pavement. The mud falls off my shoes, and with it, I will my feelings for Sean to fall away from my body.
If only it were that easy.
I put a smile on my face and turn and enter the community center.
NINE – SEAN
We’re at the top of the St. Louis Arch – nine of the kids from the center came with Sarah and me, as well as Serena. Last night, after Sarah left the center, I checked my voicemail. Turns out, she had a legitimate reason for showing up late – a major leak in her studio. And I’m the asshole who didn’t listen when she tried to explain. I’ve spent hours trying to figure out how to make things right between us, and I think I have a plan that will work.
Sarah and nine of our kids came up with this round while the others wait with Ted at the museum below. We peer out the observation deck windows across the city to the west, and across the brim-full Mississippi River to the east.
“Can we come back sometime, Sarah? When the water goes down? And eat on one of the riverboats someday?”
“I don’t see why not,” Sarah says, smiling at the child. She hasn’t looked at me since that scene beside the flooded creek yesterday.
It’s time. I’m tired of this distance between us. I give Serena a predetermined signal, and she corals the kids around her for a moment.
“Head count time – everyone over here,” she says.
“Ah, not again. Where are we gonna go up here, anyway?” Robert laughs. Franklin joins in. Neither of them expressed any concern as to having qualms about coming to the top of the Arch high above the city. The two of them seem to have recovered perfectly well from what could have ended up being a horrible tragedy. It’s all thanks to Sarah and her quick thinking and actions. She’s incredible – so strong and fearless, whether she’s coming into East St. Louis to teach at a community center, or jumping into a flooding creek to save two kids. Not to mention, showing up today for the kids even with the tension between us. I can tell, after yesterday, she’s not someone who goes back on her word. Unlike my mother, Sarah will find a way to keep her promises – no matter what happens.
And now is the time to make the biggest promise of all, together.
Taking her hand, I lead her off to one side of the viewing platform. We don’t have much time left, but the other people there can tell something is going on between us as they give us our space.
“What’s up, Sean?” Sarah asks.
“Have a seat, please.”
“Okay, but shouldn’t we help Serena? We’re going to need to get the kids into the trams again pretty soon.” There are platforms in front of the windows, and Sarah sits on one. She peers at me, distrustfully. “You’ve got exactly thirty seconds to say what you have to say.”
I stand in front of her, hoping to keep her from getting away. “Please listen to me, Sarah. I beg you to forgive me. I was totally out of line yesterday and completely misjudged you.”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, you were out of line. You didn’t show up. And you assumed the worst of me.” She tries to get up. In her fury, she pushes hard against me. I’m not going to force her to do anything. I just want her to hear what I have to say.
I don’t push back. “Oh, Sarah,” I say with a low regretful sigh, and the tone of my voice seems to give her a reason to pause. “It’s all been a terrible misunderstanding. Please, let me explain.”
She eyes me with suspicion, then nods cautiously.
I explain the crazy circumstances about stalling his truck, about dropping my phone in the flooded waters at an intersection, and not receiving her messages.
“This is unbelievable,” she says. “It was all just a terrible misunderstanding?”
“Yes,” I reply, pausing for a minute to appreciate the vulnerable look in her eyes. “Do you know how beautiful you look right now?”
She throws herself at me in the middle of the biggest tourist attraction of St. Louis. I pick her up and we kiss as if for the first time – the way we did in that parking lot, when we first met. We kiss for what feels like an eternity, washing away all the pain of the last twenty-four hours.
After a few moments I pull back to kneel down in front of her. With hope in my heart, I open up the small velvet-lined box I’ve been hiding in my backpack.
Sarah gasps, getting everyone’s attention. Soon we have a crowd around us, in silent awe at what’s unfolding. It’s so quiet and still, we can feel the Arch swaying slightly back and forth in the wind.
“I’ve known you were the one for me ever since I saw you that Friday afternoon in the rain,” I don’t want to give too many details at the moment about exactly where we met. Sarah catches my drift. She giggles a bit, and I can tell what she’s thinking as I go on, “You are the most powerfully beautiful woman I’ve ever met, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you – forever. Please, tell me you will be my wife.”
“Oh, Sean, you know you are the one I want. Of course, I’ll marry you,” Sarah exclaims.
Applause rings out in the Arch. Someone plays celebration music on their phone – everyone keeps clapping, and I take the aquamarine gemstone in a white gold setting out of its velvet bed. I look into Sarah’s blue-gray eyes, and she looks straight into my soul as I slip the ring onto her finger.
“Well, when are you going to kiss her?” a stranger in the crowd shouts.
Everyone laughs, and the guide announces it’s time to line up.
The crowd is dispersing, and I take Sarah in my arms. She feels tremulous, and I can feel her quick breathing and smell her
flowery scent as I kiss her once – then twice – and finally a third time.
“When’s the wedding going to be?”
“We have to make plans, but you’ll all be invited.” Sarah is glowing.
“Will you get married here at the top of the Arch?”
“I think we’re going to have a crowd,” I point out. “We might need a bigger place.”
“How many babies are you going to have?”
Sarah’s face flushes.
“No matter how many kids we have, you’ll always be part of our family.” I start moving everyone toward exit.
The kids are asking a thousand questions as they take turns getting into the trams – Serena gets into the first one with three kids, and they begin their trip down.
Sarah and I are going to have to be in separate trams to return kids to the base.
“Can you be apart from each other that long,” Leslie looks up at us and asks. Then she actually winks at us. With her black hair in two braids sticking out on either side of her head, she looks like a complete mischief-maker.
“You kids never cease to surprise me,” I say.
“And that’s why we love you,” Sarah says.
I smile as the kids fight for who gets to ride in the tram with Sarah.
“Hey, doesn’t anyone want to ride with me?” I ask.
“Don’t worry,” Sarah whispers in my ear. “We can come back another time – just the two of us, and take a ride in the tram alone.”
“Promise?” I ask.
She smiles, and it’s all I need to believe. We’re together for good.
EPILOGUE – SARAH
“And breathe, two, three, four,” the instructor repeats. She walks slowly about the studio full of ladies here for the 4:00 meditation class.
Leaning back slightly with one hand on my large belly, I hold up my other hand. Signaling the instructor that I will see her later, I step out into the clear sky of afternoon from the Clayton office.