Mara Webb and the Town of Arlington Park

7: Mara Webb: Shadows of Comparison

Mara, now a teenager of 17 years, stood in her dimly lit room, surrounded by the remnants of her childhood. Her red hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders, her green eyes reflecting the muted light that filtered through the drawn curtains. At five foot five, she possessed none of her physical features from either of her parents, other than her height that came from her mother, Ruth, a fact that seemed to only deepen the shadows of comparison that hung over her like a shroud.

Unlike her older brother Jasper, who had been tall like their father with blue eyes and blond hair, Mara often found herself measured against his memory. Ruth, lost in the haze of grief, would talk about Jasper as though he had simply gone off to college, as if he would return home any day now. Mara couldn't help but feel the weight of her mother's expectations, constantly comparing her to the brother she had never known, from the clothes she wore to the jokes she told.

In the darkness of her room, Mara packed her bags for school, her movements quick and efficient. Pictures adorned the walls throughout the house, capturing moments from her childhood with her father, as well as a solitary image of Jasper, a constant reminder of the brother she had lost before she even had the chance to meet him.

Downstairs in the kitchen, Ruth's voice echoed through the house, calling up to Mara to see if she was ready.

"Norah will be here any minute. Are you ready?" Ruth exclaimed from the kitchen to Mara's bedroom upstairs.

Auntie Rachel, a familiar presence in their lives since Isaac's disappearance, would be arriving soon to give Mara a lift to school. Mara grabbed an apple from the fruit basket on the kitchen island, her mother standing behind it, dressed in her apron for her shift at the diner where she now worked after quitting her job at the high school.

As Mara made her way outside to the waiting car, she couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness that seemed to pervade every corner of her existence. Norah, her best friend since kindergarten, sat in the front seat, her mother Rachel behind the wheel. Mara slid into the backseat, her thoughts drifting back to her father, her brother, and the gaping void they had left behind.

Norah's father had left when she was just a baby, a fact that bonded the two girls in a shared experience of fatherlessness. As they drove towards school, Mara couldn't help but wonder what her life would have been like if her father hadn't disappeared, if her brother hadn't been taken from them before she even had the chance to know him. But as the car rolled on, Mara pushed aside her thoughts, focusing instead on the day ahead and the familiar comfort of her friendship with Norah, a beacon of light in the darkness that threatened to consume her.