On The Run: Part Two

Chapter Twenty-Two - "Jellybeans And Macarons"

The next day went the exact same way.

She did call and text occasionally during the day, so I assumed everything was great. But when Katie called to ask me where Sarah was, that’s when I started to wonder.

Then, on Thursday morning, when I didn’t have to go in till later, I spotted Sarah’s half-open bedroom door and walked over. I simply wanted to ask her what time she’d be back home – I’ll admit, I did miss her company – only to find her face down in bed, her hair spread across the pillows, her room in complete darkness.

I knocked.

She groaned.

It was nine, and she was usually on her way to work long before that. So, I knocked again.

She slowly sat up, squinting against the streaming light through the slightly open curtains.

“Sarah, it’s nine o’clock,” I said, walking in, “Aren’t you late for work?”

Her phone lit up on her dresser – Katie. She let it go to voicemail and replied, “Yeah, um . . . I’m not going.”

I looked around the room at the pillows strewn around, the dinner tray on the bedside table, her messy hair and the empty bourbon bottle and glass at the bedside.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

She smiled and nodded, “Give or take a pounding head.”

“Want me to get you an Aspirin?”

“No, I’m okay.”

I scanned the room again; it was an utter mess – completely unlike Sarah. “When last did you get out of bed?” I blurted unintentionally, and then muttered, “Sorry.”

She collapsed back onto the bed, “Monday.”

“Are you ill?”

“No, I really am fine; I’m just not in the mood for the world. I’ll go tomorrow.”

I nodded, and that was that. I had breakfast, lunch, dinner, and yet I didn’t see a peep of her. I tried to make conversation with Consuela, but she wasn’t having any of it.

“Miss Chloe, don’t eat and talk. You choke, not good,” she said, and went back to washing up.

“Does Sarah do this a lot?” I asked, ignoring her comment.

“Miss Sarah likes to sit on terrace. When she stays in the room, I know something wrong. When she stays in the room for three straight days, I know something very wrong. But Miss Sarah, she no talk to anyone; she just sit and watch television. Now eat your food, so you no choke. Cause I just watch – no Heimlich.”

I smiled and turned back to my pasta.

I walked into her room later that night – honestly, I didn’t expect to miss her company so much; it was just nice to have someone around. It didn’t suck that it happened to be someone so cool, who also happened to be related to me. By blood.

I mean, what are the chances of that?

She was fast asleep, the remote in her hand. I let out a sigh, and walked over, intending to turn the television off, but I froze when I saw the screen. The sound was very low, but I didn’t need to hear the words to know what was being said.

Annie was holding me in her lap – it was my fifth birthday and Harold was behind the camera.

“Chloe, you have to make a wish,” she said.