by Ronica Black
The nurse gave Sarah a weak smile. “I’m very sorry for your loss. I’ll leave you alone with him for a while.”
Quietly, she moved away and closed the door behind her. Sarah stared in a daze as her mother continued to straighten and groom her father, folding his hands together and placing them on his chest. She kissed his forehead and whispered to him softly, eventually beginning to hum.
“Mom?” She hadn’t stopped to think about just how hard this whole ordeal must’ve been for her. If anything, she should’ve come for her. For support.
“Hmm?” She didn’t look up.
“Are you okay?”
She stopped straightening the sheets and stood erect, meeting Sarah’s eyes. “I’ll be all right.”
“This has to be hard on you.” Sarah knew the pain she was feeling had to be at least double for her mother. They had been married forty years.
“I’ve known about the cancer for a long time.”
“How long?” Sarah had only found out weeks before.
“A little over a year.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Knowing sooner probably wouldn’t have changed her behavior. Even so, she wondered why they kept it from her.
“He didn’t want you to know. He knew how you felt about him, about us, and he didn’t want you coming around out of pity. He wanted you to come around because you wanted to.”
Sarah sank down into the chair and buried her head in her hands. There were so many things she wished she could change. Things didn’t have to be this way. And she refused to let them continue.
“I’m sorry, Mom. For not returning your calls, for not visiting.”
She heard her mother sigh softly. “You don’t have to be sorry, Sarah.”
“I do.” She looked up at her. “I couldn’t forgive. I couldn’t forget.” She glanced at her father’s still form and teared up again. “I’m sorry you went through this alone.”
Her mother remained by her father’s side, looking at her with worried eyes. “Sarah, all I want for you…all we want for you…is happiness.” She placed a hand on Roy’s shoulder. “We weren’t the best parents. We didn’t love you like we should’ve or give you the attention you deserved. We were caught up in us.”
“You don’t have to explain.” Sarah said, not wanting to put her mother through any more pain.
“Yes, I do. You need to hear it. Roy wanted you to hear it.”
They both gazed at the pale man who looked so peaceful with his hands folded and his hair brushed to the side.
“So what now?” Sarah asked, needing to be there for her mother from now on, no matter what.
“Now we lay your father to rest.”
“What about you? Are you sick?” Sarah took in her appearance and the constant threatening cough, suddenly very much worried for her well-being. Grieving for her husband would be difficult enough, she didn’t need to be sick on top of it all. “Have you been checked out?”
Surprisingly, her mother laughed softly. “There’s no doubt in my mind that I will follow your father.” She smiled warmly at her daughter. “But not anytime soon.”
Sarah nodded and lowered her gaze. Her mother moved back to Roy and began humming again, kissing him on the forehead and stroking his hair.
Sarah got to her feet and hugged herself, moved by the love they shared, a love she wished to have someday. As her eyes welled up again, Chandler’s face entered her mind. Sarah had left her once again, fleeing into the night with no explanation, fleeing from her own inner fears. Wincing, she turned from her parents.
Chandler moved her, stirred things in her, and yet Sarah kept pushing her away just as she did with anything that caused emotion in her. She glanced back at her mother, awed by her strength. It made her feel a fool, so caught up in her head and the fears it held. If she was going to change, she was going to change everything. Life was too precious to be ruled by her fears, by her demons. It was a lesson hard learned.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“I need to go make a phone call. You going to be okay?”
“I’ll be fine. Go ahead on home.” She smiled first at Sarah and then at her husband. “I’ll stay here a while longer.”
Sarah took a step toward the door and then hesitated. She suddenly felt overcome with the urge to talk, to share with her mother what happened with Scottie. The anger and resentment she had been feeling had forced her to face it head-on once again, to accept that it happened. And now, Sarah needed her mother to know that as if just by simply talking about it, in time she could mend the hole that had been torn. But not now.
“I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”
Her mother looked over at her, clearly surprised and pleased.
“To check on you. And to help with any arrangements.”
“I’d like that.”
Sarah returned the smile and gave her father one last look. She thought about touching him again but didn’t think she had the strength to withstand the emotions that it would stir up.
Good-bye, Dad. She walked to the door, unable to look back. Outside in the bright corridor, she squinted and took deep breaths. The smell of death seemed to cling to her, like an invisible, heavy mist. She rode the elevator down to the ground floor and walked slowly to the main sliding doors. She needed to call Chandler and talk to her. It was late, but what she had to say couldn’t wait.
Chapter Twenty-One
Sarah drove with the cell phone pressed firmly to her ear.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, that number is unlisted.”
Sarah cringed at the news. “Thank you.” She ended the call. “Damn it!” She slapped her steering wheel and almost slapped herself for never taking the time to get Chandler’s number.
She drove on, determined and swelling with the newfound emotion. She had to see Chandler and tell her how she felt. She sped, pushing her truck, needing to confess before she burst from within.
Chandler’s house came into view after what felt like an eternity. Sarah released her tight grip on the steering wheel and slowed to a stop a ways down from the home. From behind her the headlights of a car came into view and she held her breath, hoping it was Chandler. But the car passed by and kept going until it stopped just beyond Chandler’s. The driver killed the engine and the lights but didn’t emerge. Sarah squinted, certain she had seen the car before.
That blue sedan. The car she’d feared was driven by one of Chandler’s lovers. It probably belonged to a neighbor Chandler had never even spoken to. Feeling foolish, she turned off her engine. It was late but, still determined, she climbed down from her truck and walked quickly to the front door. The night felt cool and crisp, sharp against her warm skin. She rubbed her arms as she stepped up to ring the bell. Chandler was going to think she was nuts, but she didn’t care.
She waited and listened, anxious to take Chandler in her arms once again. This time she swore she wouldn’t ever let go. She rang the bell a second time and as it echoed through the quiet house, Sarah began to feel let down. After waiting a few more minutes, she walked away slowly and headed back to her truck. Chandler’s absence stabbed her in the pit of her stomach, allowing jealousy to seep in and fill it up.
She wasn’t home, and it was probably Sarah’s fault. The way she had left her—and for the third time. She had to get to her, but there was no way now. The bar was closed. There was no telling where Chandler was. She would have to look up her number at work or call Dave and get it since he was on duty.
Sarah’s throat began to burn as she started her truck. She glanced up to where the sedan had been. It was gone. Exhausted, she drove to her apartment and went inside. All the emotion and trauma from the day weighed her down and she trudged like a zombie to her bed. Chandler, her father, and then Chandler again. She thought about calling Dave, but it was too late. Like it or not, Chandler was going to have to wait.
She closed her eyes and darkness quickly consumed her. She fell right to sleep.
*
Chan awoke feeling like
she had been dragged by her motorcycle. She was weak with fatigue and stiff from the awkward position in which she had slept. She could feel the pulse in her head, which made it ache all the more. Something thumped onto her lap as she pushed herself into an upright position on the couch.
Squinting against the sun, she focused on her cat. Mitote. He rubbed against her hand, purring, saying good morning. She attempted to search her memory banks, but it was just too painful. She groaned and scooted him to the floor. Her legs were bare and it took her a few minutes to locate her jeans, which lay in a heap by the garage door.
How the hell did I get home? She couldn’t remember much of anything. She jerked on her pants and stumbled over her boots on her way to the kitchen. Her mind attempted to work as her body tried to catch up. There was one thing she could remember, despite her numerous attempts to forget, and that was Sarah.
Chan rubbed her temple as she realized she had gone out five nights in a row, drinking and dancing and drinking some more. All of it done to fill the void in her life, the hole that Sarah had created by coming into her life and then leaving, over and over again.
She sighed. Suddenly she didn’t know if she would be able to move on. Nothing seemed to help the pang, the yearning she felt for her. But it was just too damn much. Chan couldn’t handle it. As badly as she wanted Sarah, it seemed that Sarah didn’t want her. And Chan wasn’t used to being the one who was rejected. It hurt like hell.
She made her way to the kitchen and started some much-needed coffee. The phone rang and she checked the caller ID. It was a number she recognized but didn’t know. Someone had been calling her frequently from the same number, but they never left a message so she never answered. She glanced down and noticed that she had on only one sock. As she journeyed through the living room in search of its mate, she heard movement from the hallway.
“Buenos días.”
Chan stood very still, mouth agape.
The Latin woman was nude and smiling.
Chan stared, completely stunned. “What are you doing here?”
The woman looked surprised by the question. “I follow you home.”
“Last night?”
She nodded.
Fuck. Chan realized she must’ve run into her at one of the numerous bars she had been frequenting. She stared, trying her best to recall the previous evening, but it was too fuzzy.
As her eyes swept over the woman’s body she suddenly felt ashamed and looked away. Seeing a woman in her home brought what she had been trying to forget right in front of her face. She wanted a woman in her home, wanted to wake up to her every day, but not this one.
What had she done? What was she doing to her life? Why couldn’t she just go to Sarah and tell her how she felt?
Feeling angry with herself, she asked the question she dreaded. “Did we, uh…have sex?”
“No.” The woman moved toward Chan in a seductive manner. “But we could now.”
Chan held up her hands before she came too close. She thought carefully. It wasn’t fair, how she was behaving. Just because she was hurting for Sarah, it didn’t give her the right to lead this woman on.
“Look, whatever I said, whatever I did last night, I’m sorry. I can’t sleep with you and I can’t continue seeing you.” There, it was out.
The woman stopped and stared and Chan felt bad for her.
“I’m sorry for the way I’ve treated you.” Chan meant it.
The woman nodded. “You said all of this last night.”
“I did?”
“Sí. I thought it was because you drink.”
“It’s the truth.” Chan explained. “I’m sorry.”
“Another woman?”
Chan nodded.
“That is all you had to say.” Her face softened.
Chan swallowed. “I couldn’t say it until now.”
“I understand.”
“Me too,” Chan said. “For the first time in my life, I understand.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
The drive home from work was always slow going. Chan stopped her Durango and relaxed against her seat as the three lines of freeway traffic crawled at a snail’s pace. Usually she would fidget in her seat, and switch lanes frequently, convinced the other was moving faster. Patience was a virtue she’d never seemed to have.
Today, however, she was finding the slow ride home a bit soothing, giving her time to think. She’d made several decisions over the past few days and it felt good to go over them, to get things set right in her mind. Waking up to the near stranger in her home and having no memory of the events that led up to it had frightened and concerned her. It had forced her to take a step back and analyze her life. What did she want? What was it that she truly wanted?
The answer was simple. Whereas most people would have reported peace, happiness, health, and love, Chan had bypassed all of them and muttered only one word.
“Sarah.”
Sarah encompassed it all. Everything Chan wanted and needed. She no longer wanted to go from lover to lover. The act seemed cold to her now, and she couldn’t imagine sharing intimate moments like that with strangers anymore. Sex wasn’t just sex. It was deeper, meaningful. The feelings she had were different now.
She wanted to share those intimacies, those sacred feelings with one person only. She wanted to wake up next to her every morning and delicately stroke her skin along with the pale light of the dawning day. To listen to her breathe, watch her eyes as they lightened when they awakened from sleep. She wanted to share her dreams, her thoughts, her fears. She wanted all of it and again she whispered the name of the person who unknowingly held it all.
“Sarah.”
Chan eventually drove on, Sarah’s face flashing in her mind, making the rush-hour traffic seem to all but disappear. The garage door eased open and she parked her truck and walked into the kitchen, where she tossed her keys on the counter. She felt good, optimistic and calm in a way that surprised her. It was as if the clarity of her realizations had soothed her soul. Her body tingled a bit as she thought about sharing these revelations with Sarah.
A meow slipped into her consciousness and she was startled to see Mitote running over to rub against her legs.
“How did you get in here?” She was pretty sure she had last seen him go out. She crouched down to pet him and noticed something as she did. He had on a collar, one with a little gold-plated tag. She scooped him up into her arms and turned the tag toward the light to read its inscription. Mitote was all it said. Puzzled, she cocked her head and watched as he jumped down from her arms and strutted, tail in air.
She moved into the kitchen, confused and baffled, but the phone rang, demanding her attention. The phone was nowhere to be found, so she checked the ID on the base and saw that it was the same number that had been calling so often. She let it go to her machine, expecting to hear the familiar sounds of a dial tone. But when silence came through, she stood and stared. She could hear the faint sounds of someone breathing.
“Hi.” Chan nearly crumbled as she recognized the voice at once. “It’s Sarah. I’ve been trying to reach you.”
Chan immediately started searching for the phone. This was it. This was her chance.
“I really would like to get together if at all possible.”
“Me too!” Chan shouted, tossing pillows off the couch, wishing Sarah could hear her.
“I’ve been thinking about things, about you and…”
Chan straightened, ears trained.
“I really should tell you in person. Please, give me a call.”
Chan dropped the pillow in her hand in defeat as Sarah gave her the number. She collapsed down onto the couch and tried to get her head straight. She felt butterflies inside at the thought of seeing Sarah again. Excited, she stood, hoping against hope that they could meet later that evening.
She was headed toward the hall to her bedroom when the doorbell rang. She hesitated, anxious to call Sarah back, not wanting to be bothered. It rang a second time befor
e she could make up her mind about answering it. Sensing an urgency from whoever it was, she trotted to the door and peeked through the side window. More bells sounded but they were those in her head, alarmed.
Quickly, she unlocked the door and tugged it open. Kim stood in front of her trembling, mascara running down her face.
“Oh my God,” Chan whispered as she ushered her inside. “What happened?” She closed the door behind them and locked it and then gently led Kim into the house.
Kim sobbed as she moved, unable to speak. Chan had just seen her at the office and she had been fine.
“Are you hurt?” Chan quickly ran her eyes over her friend and colleague. She breathed a little easier not seeing any signs of injury. But still she felt on edge and glanced around again for the phone. Where the fuck is it?
She focused back on Kim, easing her down onto the couch and handing her a Kleenex from the end table. Kim wiped her eyes and took in several shaky breaths, trying to calm down while Chan sat down next to her.
“What, what is it?” Chan probed gently.
“He…he”—she gasped—“he took the dog.”
Chan shook her head in confusion. “What do you mean?”
Kim’s eyes met hers and they were wide with terror. “I got home the other day and Buster, my dog, he wasn’t there. And I panicked and started searching the neighborhood. I thought he just got out, you know?”
Chan nodded.
“When I got back home I checked my voicemail, and there was a message from Michael. He sounded really strange, like he was excited in an evil way, and he said he had taken Buster.” She cried some more, unable to stop. Chan waited patiently for her to continue.
“Well, I relaxed a little, at least knowing that he was safe. I was upset, but I knew Michael did it to make me upset. So I just tacked it on to the list of things he’s done to report to the police. I figured I would get my dog back.”
Chan handed her another tissue, which she took gratefully.
“Michael kept calling after that. Saying that he knows who I’m seeing and that it had better stop.”