As Darkness Falls

8

Zoe’s father was released from prison.

At least, Sara assumed that Zoe’s father had been released, but she didn’t actually know for sure. Two weeks had passed since Zoe received the letter from the corrections department, and the release date which the letter gave had arrived.

Sara had remembered the date, and was waiting for Zoe to say something, but Zoe didn’t say a word. Zoe didn’t seem to have noticed at all.

Sara was a little surprised.

Sara hadn’t known what kind of reaction to expect from Zoe, but had anticipated Zoe being angry, or upset, or scared, or something. She had at least expected Zoe to say that today was the day, and expected that when Zoe said that, Sara needed to understand what she meant, to know which day, and then say something appropriately reassuring. Sara had no idea what was reassuring in the circumstances, but she’d wanted to try. She had wanted to say the right thing.

Sara had been ready to, as well. She had prepared. She had been aware of which day was which, all that week, and for several days beforehand had been waking up each morning and thinking no, it wasn’t today. She had been thinking about it all week, and worrying about Zoe all week. She had quietly organised her shifts at work and her days off to fit around that day, in case Zoe needed her. She had arranged her shifts so she wasn’t on nights, so she would be there that morning, and she had taken the next day off as well, just in case. She had been anticipating something, anything, and had desperately wanted to help when that something happened, but when the day came, Zoe didn’t mention that it had.

Zoe didn’t seem to think it was unusual day at all.

Zoe acted normally. She acted completely normally, all that morning, as they ate breakfast and went off to work. She kissed Sara goodbye normally and asked what time Sara would finish normally. She did exactly what she usually did, and Sara was a little surprised. Sara told herself not to assume. She had no idea what to expect, and she was doing all could. She had organized herself as best she could to be there for Zoe, but Zoe didn’t seem to need her. Zoe didn’t seem to need anything particular at all. Not to talk, or be cheered up, or anything, as far as Sara could tell.

Zoe seemed to be acting as though it were just another, unremarkable day, so Sara didn’t say anything to contradict that. If that was how Zoe needed to cope, then Sara was more than happy to let her.

Sara went to work, and thought about Zoe all day. She went around to Zoe’s that evening, after her shift had ended, and Zoe kept on acting normally.

Zoe was acting utterly normally. She seemed exactly as pleased to see Sara as she usually was, no less and no more. Sara tried to imagine undercurrents and unstated desperation, but it simply wasn’t there. Zoe was no different to any other evening. She was at home. She had made dinner already, but left some on the counter for Sara, and as Sara ate, Zoe sat beside her on the couch and played video games. That was all fairly normal. Everything was normal. Zoe talked as usual, and asked how Sara’s day had been, as usual, and talked about her own, too, and she spent most of the evening playing her video games, which was fairly usual as well. She played her games, and then they went to bed, and everything was exactly the same as it always was.

They hadn’t talked, which was confusing Sara. Zoe had said nothing about the date, or about her family or father, and she said absolutely nothing about what she had asked Sara to help her do a few weeks earlier, and that was confusing Sara too.

It was all starting to seem a little strange.

Sara went to bed wondering if Zoe had forgotten the date. She almost thought Zoe had.

Sara thought Zoe had forgotten, but she turned out to be very wrong.

                                                            *

The next morning, Sara was woken up by a rubbish truck out in the street. The rubbish collectors did Zoe’s suburb first, before any other part of town, and did it early enough that Sara usually didn’t stay at Zoe’s on Thursdays if she was on night shift, because she’d be woken up in the morning almost as soon as she went to bed, and sometimes had trouble getting back to sleep if it was already daylight outside.

Usually she wouldn’t stay on a Thursday night, but that night she had, because of the day it was. That night, she would have stayed anyway, even if she hadn’t had the next day off.

She was woken, as she’d half-expected. For some reason she always noticed the noise of the truck. She was woken up quite early, and lay there, listening to the truck roaring down the street banging bins open as it passed. She opened her eyes, and then realised that Zoe wasn’t in the bed.

She sat up, and looked around.

Zoe wasn’t in the bedroom, and her side of the bed was cold, and Sara had an awful moment of worry, with no actual idea what she was worrying about.

She told herself to stop, and do something useful instead. She got up and went to look for Zoe.

Zoe was sitting in the lounge, hugging herself, smoking, in just the tee-shirt she slept in when she was cold. She was stretching it, had pulled it out and over her knees to keep herself warm, and was just sitting there quietly, staring out the window at the peaceful morning street.

Sara stood there for a moment looking into the lounge. Zoe had remembered after all.

Sara didn’t know what to do, so she did what seemed obvious. She was trusting herself, she supposed, like the detective had told her to do. She went over, and sat down beside Zoe, and hugged her, without asking first. She hugged Zoe, even though she usually wouldn’t without asking, and it seemed the right thing to do. Zoe didn’t say anything, but she didn’t pull away from Sara. She just sat there, and kept smoking silently, as Sara sat beside her.

Zoe was thinking, or perhaps remembering. She didn’t seem to want to talk, anyway. Sara hugged her, and yawned, and waited, trying not to back to sleep. After a while, despite herself, she did. She must have dozed, and then fallen deeply asleep, because several hours seemed to pass. She woke up at noon to find Zoe still curled in underneath her arm and ten or so cigarette ends in the ashtray.

Sara rubbed her eyes, and sat up.

“Sleepyhead,” Zoe said, and sat up too. She kissed Sara quickly, then went and put the kettle on. She didn’t say anything else, so Sara didn’t either.

Zoe would talk when she was ready, Sara told herself.