Starting Position

Chapter 24

"What else, Dad? What else should we tell Sarah about Mom?"

My father simply gaped.

Throwing myself out of the chair and colliding with the corner of the dining table, I flew from the kitchen. Heat embedded my skin. I wouldn't have been surprising if a trail of smoke was left in my wake.

I needed to run. 

Storming down the porch stairs, I took off at a sprint wearing a pair of jeans and my converse. But this didn't slow me down. My lungs were on fire, and I needed to run faster. I shot down the sidewalk at what felt like the speed of light. The dimly lit houses blurred together, and after I reached the end of the block, I hooked a right and ran faster. My feet pounded the anger into the pavement. When I completed the loop and reached my house, I flung myself onto the porch stairs and tried to level my breathing.

The door creaked, but I didn't look back. I wasn't ready to meet my father, not yet. I had not been left alone long enough to feel the shame that was sure to spiral, the shame that would lead to an empty apology. 

I was caught off guard by the body that sat beside me. It was not my father. It was Sarah, her hair brushing against my shoulder and she settled into place.

I didn't say a word, in part because of the anger, but also because of the shock I felt at seeing her instead of my father. I wanted to run again, but this time, I wouldn't stop.

"So, tell me how you really feel." Her tone was airy, and I assumed it was an attempt to lighten the mood.

It didn't.

"Why are you here?" I asked brashly.

Sarah weighed her words before she spoke. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I'm fine."

A person walking their dog strolled by on the sidewalk. The dog turned to face Sarah and I, halted, sniffed the air, and then continued walking.

"I'm not all that convinced, if you don't mind me saying so."

My senses were leveling out, although they were nowhere close to calibrated.

"I know how you're feeling," Sarah said.

"No, you don't."

"Well, maybe not exactly. You're right." Sarah paused and wrapped her arms around her chest. "My mom died when I was young, back in grade school."

I wasn't expecting this confession. Usually when people told you they knew how you were feeling, it was complete nonsense. How could a person know what you were feeling on any given day, let alone when your own mother had died? It was almost worse than hearing "I'm sorry" countless times, days on end. Both of these were said as a means to an end for a conversation neither party wanted but were expected to take part in. I would have been perfectly happy had everyone either left me alone, or, stood by my side like normal until I had been ready to talk.

"How did she die?" I asked.

"Stroke. She was thirty-seven years old."

I gulped as the images I kept buried began to surface. The ocean filled my vision. "Mine died suddenly, too. She - she..." Electric silence filled the space around us. "She drowned." Roaring waves crashed behind my eyes, and I blinked them away. "We were at the beach and - and she went swimming, and then... and then" - I closed my eyes, voice trembling -"the current was so strong - she got swept out and she - she drowned."

Sarah placed a warm hand on my knee, but I didn't push it away. "I am so sorry, Elliot. So sorry. No one should have to go through that. No one should have to lose their mom so suddenly, let alone so traumatically." 

The swells were shrinking, but my chest still ached. "I don't know if it would've been easier had I know it was coming - if I knew she was going to die."

"Me either. I spent a lot of time thinking about that," Sarah stated.

Another few moments of silence passed, some of the electricity cooling.

"Your dad talks about her a lot, you know. Your mom."

"That's hard to believe," I said. Sarah remained silent, allowing time to finish my thought. "He's never brought her up since she died. Not to me, at least."

Sarah tilted her heads towards mine. "I'm not here to make excuses for you dad. I understand where your anger is coming from, I get it. He should have realized that it was important – so important – to discuss her after her passing."

My voice was broken. I was left with ragged breaths.

"You do have to understand though, that he was hurting – still is hurting, and I don't think he knows quite how to talk with you about her."

"He's had almost two years to figure it out."

Sarah nodded. "Yeah – and I think in the beginning, he was in so much pain, it was easier for him to shut out his feelings, not talk about them to anyone, especially his daughter, whom I'm sure he thought was suffering enough without having to deal with her dad's feelings.." Sarah looked out towards the sky. "And then time passed, and maybe the thought crossed his mind about having a discussion with you, but, how could he? The more time passed, the harder it got to speak with you. It was easiest to carry on the way things were, they weren't perfect, but they were working."

"He could have tried!" The words were physically ailing.

"I'm not making excuses – like I said – I'm just trying to help you understand. That's all. You have every right to be furious, even angrier than you were in the kitchen, especially with me there, sitting and eating with the two of you – I can only imagine, but, I'm telling you from someone who has gone through this before, realize that anger and use it."

"How?"

"Do what your dad was unable to do and talk with him."