Chapter 1
2097 Words
Chapter 1
Sarah GardnerSarah woke to Zoe crying hysterically. She rubbed her eyes and sighed as she stood up from the yellow armchair—her favorite. She made her way up the stairs when she was overcome by a dizzy spell. Sarah leaned against the wall to steady herself.
Sarah went into Zoe’s bedroom to find her sitting up in bed. Her normally wispy golden hair was a rat’s nest and snot ran down from her nose. Sarah opened her mouth, but no words came. Sarah stared at her two-year-old daughter. How can such a loud, invasive sound come from someone so small? Sarah narrowed her eyes. Please shut up, Zoe. Please. Please. Please! Sarah took a deep breath in. “Zoe, honey,”—Sarah said as she sat next to her little girl—“what’s the matter?”
Instead of answering, however, Zoe’s cries only grew louder.
“Please, Zoe...” Sarah could feel a headache coming. Sarah picked her up and rocked her in her arms when Noah marched in with his pudgy hand inside an open jar of peanut butter. “Oh my goodness, Noah! Where did you get that? Can you please come here?”
Like his little sister, the three-year-old did not give his mother an answer. He put the jar under his arm and began opening and shutting Zoe’s drawers, smearing peanut butter everywhere.
“Noah, don’t do that. You’ll get—”
As one would expect, Noah shut the drawer with such force that he’d accidentally slammed it on his own finger.
Sarah stared at him, shocked.
Noah wailed and Zoe joined him.
The only thing that kept Sarah from joining them was the realization that her oldest son, Liam, was not there. Without saying a word, she pulled Noah close and kissed his finger. “Liam?” Sarah called out.
“It hurts, Mommy,” Noah said with tears as large as the peas he refused to eat the night before.
“I told you not to do that,” she said to Noah. “Liam!” Sarah called out once more. Firmer, louder.
Sarah put Zoe down which only prompted the toddler to cry again. “Stay here,” she said. “Noah, stay with your sister.” Sarah stumbled down the stairs to the living room. There was no sign of Liam. She went into the kitchen. “Liam!”
Sarah stopped in her tracks. She had no idea where he was. Liam was missing.
“Mommy,”—Noah came up behind her—“Liam’s not letting me play with him.”
“Where is Liam?”
“He’s not letting me play,” Noah said.
Sarah got on her knees to face him. “Noah, I need you to tell me where Liam is.”
Noah took Sarah by the hand and led her to the garden. Liam had covered some hedges with a blanket to build a fort.
Sarah knelt by the makeshift entrance and lifted the corner of the blanket. “Liam?”
“Get out!” Liam screamed.
“Liam, I was worried about you. Please come inside.”
“Mommy, I want to play in too,” Noah cried.
“Noah—get inside!” Sarah didn’t mean to snap at him, but she did.
Noah began to cry and stormed off into the house.
Sarah let out a breath and lifted the blanket again. She put a hand on Liam’s leg. “Honey, please come—”
“Go away!” Liam kicked her hand.
“Ow! Liam, so help me—” Sarah got up and brushed her knees. She couldn’t do this. She just couldn’t.
Sarah returned to the house and headed straight to the fridge and scanned the notes posted on the door. Then she saw it; a yellow post-it square which had the numbers of Kate and Louise. Sarah grabbed the note and looked for her phone.
She did the only thing she could think of. She sent them a message.
HELP!
Sarah sent them a text even if she didn’t know the women well. From the little she had managed to remember, Kate was the one who had stayed over the night of Adam’s funeral. And Louise was a neighbor—Sarah had seen her around before—who had come the morning after and made them breakfast.
The two women had continued to go around to Sarah’s every day after that. And grateful as she should have been, the day came when Sarah started turning them away. She stopped answering their phone calls. And when they rang the doorbell, she hid.
After that, Kate and Louise did the next best thing. They slipped notes under Sarah’s front door, asking if she needed anything—a break, a meal, a shoulder to cry on. They’d also left casseroles and cooked meals on the doorstep. But for Sarah, none of it mattered. The dust had settled. Everyone had gone back to their own lives. It was then that it hit her—and it hit her hard. Adam was dead. He was never coming back.
The truth was, Sarah had been spiraling. It felt as if she was falling down a deep dark well—reaching for a rope or a hand—but no one was around to pull her up. She’d spent the last three weeks sleeping on the yellow armchair in the living room. It was her favorite. The yellow fabric brought a pop of color to the otherwise beige room. She hadn’t had a decent rest, waking up several times each night.
But it was the only thing she could do. Sarah couldn’t go back to the bedroom she’d shared with Adam. No. Never. It was where Adam had died.
It happened sometime around 5:30 or 6:00 am. The alarm hadn’t yet gone off. Sarah turned over and laid her head on Adam’s chest expecting him to take her into an embrace like he always did. Only this time, he didn’t. Instead, the cold touch of his skin slapped her awake.
No, she couldn’t do it. It would hurt too much.
The day times weren’t quite as bad. Sarah moved purposefully. Or she tried to. With three children under the age of five... she had to—even if she didn’t want to.
They say that time waits for no man. While it may be so, Sarah had learned that grief too waited for no one. It overwhelmed her at every turn and every point of every day. And as soon as the sky turned dark and Sarah had fed, bathed, and changed the children, she would allow grief to finally take her.
Within the space of fifteen minutes, both Kate and Louise stood in Sarah’s living room—or what remained of it.
It would have been obvious to anyone that Sarah hadn’t picked up a broom, dishcloth, or rag in three weeks. She hadn’t vacuumed either. Nor had she showered.
“I’m so sorry about the mess,” Sarah said.
“Don’t you worry about the mess,” Louise said. “Why don’t you tell us what we can do to help?”
Sarah told them what had happened that morning. She’d given up pretending she could do it all. “Now Liam’s out in the garden and refuses to come inside. Noah and Zoe are upstairs,” she said. “That’s them crying... of course. Noah hurt his finger. I can’t... I don’t think I can do this.” The flatness in her own voice surprised her.
“Okay,” Louise said. “Kate, why don’t you go and see if you can coax Liam in and settle the kids?”
“Of course.” Kate nodded and headed out the back.
Louise then turned to Sarah. “Do you have any trash bags? And some Lysol?”
Sarah stared at Louise. “You have the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen,” she said. “Are they brown?”
“Thank you, dear. They’re hazel,” Louise said, obliging her.
“What color are my eyes? I really like your eyes. They’re very beautiful.” There was no rhyme or reason for what Sarah had just asked. She said the first thing that popped into her mind—the first thing that didn’t relate to the children, or cleaning... or death.
“Sarah, dear, why don’t you go and take a shower, and I’ll take care of cleaning up here.”
Sarah suddenly felt very vulnerable. She was embarrassed. Embarrassed about the mess that her house had become. Embarrassed by how she looked. Sarah worried that she probably smelled a bit rank too. That’s probably why Louise was telling her to take a shower. For the first time in three weeks, Sarah saw her life through the eyes of an outsider and she burst into tears.
“Okay—let’s see.” Louise took Sarah by the shoulders and led her up the stairs. “Come with me.”
Sarah did as she was told. Unblinking, she followed Louise into the bathroom and watched as she turned the water on. “You’ll feel much better after a nice bath,” she said.
It had never ever crossed Sarah’s mind that one day, a perfect stranger would be bathing her. But there she was, in a bath drawn by her nice neighbor with hazel-colored eyes.
“How does that feel?” Louise asked as she scrubbed Sarah’s back.
The gentle touch brought tears to her eyes.
“You know,” Louise said, “when my Warren died, I went through the same thing.”
“Who?”
“My husband, Warren. He died three years ago.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Sarah said. “My husband died three weeks ago.”
“I know, darling. It’s been a difficult time for you.”
“I wish I had known your husband.” Apologies spilled from within her. Sarah felt bad that she didn’t know her neighbors. Or that one of them had died. They moved to Carlton Bay six years ago. She felt ashamed for not knowing that someone so close was grieving.
“He was a good man,” Louise said. “And not a day goes by that I don’t think about him fondly.”
Sarah stared at the water in front of her. “I don’t want them to take my babies away.” Her voice was croaky; all but a whisper.
Louise stopped what she was doing. “Who’s taking your babies away?”
“Social services.” The fear had been hanging over Sarah since she’d first recognized she was incapable of handling Adam’s death. Although she tried, a part of her knew that she wasn’t giving her children the best version of herself. “I’m scared that they’ll say I’m unfit.”
“Sarah, no one is going to call social services,” Louise said as she poured water over Sarah’s hair. “And no one is going to take your children.”
Sarah held her head back and let the warm water spread over her like an undeserved embrace. “I’m a failure... I’ve failed them. Adam will never forgive me.”
“You have not failed anyone. This is just a setback.” Louise squeezed shampoo into the palm of her hand.
Sarah closed her eyes. She could feel three weeks of dirt and grime lifting as Louise massaged her scalp.
“Is there anyone that can take care of the children while you take some time for yourself?”
Sarah shook her head. “Adam has a cousin in Willow Oaks.”
“Grandparents?”
“Adam’s parents died ten years ago in a car accident,” Sarah said. “Both my parents are gone too.”
“That’s how Warren went—a car accident.” Louise rinsed the shampoo off Sarah’s hair and applied some conditioner.
Sarah closed her eyes and breathed in the clean smell of grapefruit and mint. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Don’t be—it was an accident,” Louise said. “This cousin of Adam’s—in Willow Oaks—do you think they can help?”
Sarah didn’t think she could bring herself to ask Charlotte for help. She had children of her own and a business to run. “I can’t ask her to do that. She’s much too busy.”
“Well... you don’t ask, you don’t get,” Louise said with certainty. “Now, don’t get me wrong here, but I think that we should go and see your doctor.”
Sarah hung her head down and laid it over her knees. She didn’t want to see a doctor.
“There’s no shame in asking for help. And with what you’ve been through, I’m surprised you haven’t gone sooner. I’d be happy to go with you.”
“He’s just going to put me on medication,” Sarah mumbled.
“So what? People take medication for headaches—why can’t shouldn’t we take some for depression?”
Sarah looked at Louise. “Do you think I’m depressed?”
Louise shrugged. “I fell into depression when my husband died.”
“I’m a mom—I have kids. I can’t get depressed.”
“You’re a mother and that’s probably why you have depression,” Louise countered.
“Are you saying the kids depress me?” Sarah’s mouth curved into a smile.
“We’ll make an appointment for tomorrow.” Louise got up off her knees. “Can you get up okay?”
Sarah pushed herself up and Louise proceeded to dry her with a towel. “I’ve never stood n***d in front of another person before,” she said.
“There’s a first for everything.”
“I’m sorry. This must be so weird for you.”
“Not any weirder than it must be for you,” Louise joked. “Besides—it is what it is.”
Like a child, Sarah followed Louise into the bedroom. She watched her pick out a sweater from the closet and, after opening a few drawers, a pair of yoga pants. “Louise?”
Louise looked up from the drawers. “Hmm?”
“Thank you.”
“For what, dear?”
“For being here with me.”
- Writer
