Chapter Five
Sarah
THE GAS STATION with the best polar pops in town proper had closed recently due to the owner’s filing for bankruptcy. There were three other stations in town, but they were all crummy and filled with scary men, so Sarah decided she would appease herself with a trip to the grocery store. She could buy a whole two-liter of Coke and a box of sugary treats for pretty darn cheap. Or if she was hungrier, she would simply purchase a bag of popcorn.
She slowly drove over to the store, taking in the memories Breezewater gave to her. It was a town like many others, yet it had left a large indentation in her brain.
She pulled into the parking lot, across the lane from an old car on spinners. She was about to jump out of the Mercedes when she noticed a familiar form behind her, along with a pretty woman on his arm, and old Mrs. Trantridge, the town do-gooder.
Sarah watched as the young man angrily deflected questions. He was still handsome, even a year after she’d last seen him, and the girl beside him matched his beauty. No doubt Mrs. Trantridge was commenting on their love life, because that woman prided herself in being the utmost matchmaker in the entire county.
Sarah finally stepped out of the car, refusing to look back, and headed inside the store. She thought of the young man for a few moments, before pushing all thoughts of him aside. He was probably the exact same arrogant kid now as he had been before.
Joel Sealet was a hypocrite. Sarah could not stand him, although he was unarguably good-looking.
Now, though, Sarah decided not to give him another thought, or she’d risk being dragged back down memory lane of her high school days. She entered the store, passing a few familiar faces, before heading to the chip aisle. Sarah should have eaten healthier, and she did around her vegan best friend Tiffany back in Los Angeles, but away from that regimen, Sarah would assuredly crack. She appreciated chips, dip, and Mexican food, while also treasuring cheese in all its forms. Sarah was not a big Chinese food connoisseur, instead preferring the Italians in this match.
She decided on a bag of popcorn before hurrying to purchase a few liters of Coke, which was illegal in her household. Her parents had banned caffeinated drinks a few years ago, so now, Sarah was forced to sneak them inside. She walked back to the self-checkout and hurriedly scanned her items. She felt someone’s eyes staring at her back, but she ignored the burning sensation of being watched and scurried outside.
The drive home seemed incredibly long, but Sarah enjoyed the feel of the Mercedes. When she finally entered the driveway of the Towson house, she stared at it with trepidation. Her mom’s silver Lexus was parked just up ahead, along with Alison’s pearly Jeep Cherokee.
Sarah grabbed the keys and her purchases, opening the front door, hoping it was unlocked, and it was. A beep emitted from the home security system, but Sarah rushed upstairs to hide the junk food from her parents, and then finally walked downstairs to the kitchen, where she was met with the familiarity of her family.
Her mother, Helena Towson, was busy setting out paper plates with a few boxes of warm pizza sizzling beside her. Helena was still a beautiful woman, but her aging lines were deepening, which caused her to wear even more makeup. She was a skinny woman, too skinny, but Sarah would not say anything about it. It would strain their relationship even more.
To her left, Alison placed a hand lovingly on her pregnant belly. She had bright blue eyes and blonde hair—like their mother—and was a striking image of the woman beside her. She was the prime opposite of Sarah, and their relationship was borderline antagonistic/non-existent. While Sarah had convinced her parents to send her away to LA for college, Alison had attended SCAD and married a young filmmaker from there. Now, they lived in Savannah and were “eagerly” expecting their first child.
Their father was already munching on a slice of pizza as he analyzed the news. He was a big news buff, always preferring nightly news programs to action films, and newspapers to legal thriller paperbacks. Scott was, in a lot of ways, like his middle child. They both preferred the outside rather than inside. The only difference was the color of the eye: Scott’s was a fierce cornflower, while Sarah’s was a darker hue.
Meanwhile, Zach, young Zachary, was sitting on a barstool, his head in a book. Literally he had laid his little skull on top of the book he was dissecting, and in the present, he was staring outside, looking at the backyard, which was as plush as a Brazilian jungle. Sarah felt her eyes sting as she observed him. His hair was the color of brown earth, his eyes a pure blue, and his body taller and leaner than she had remembered since seeing him last. He was the one regret she had in leaving Breezewater, and the only reason she ever wanted to come back.
He was the reason she’d declined an impeccable, life-changing summer internship in San Jose. He was the reason she had not accepted two months of mountain backpacking in South America with her best friends, who were leaving California in two days for Peru. Her somewhat boyfriend Kyle had also invited her to Phoenix with him for a few weeks, and she respectfully told him no. She could have worked, taken summer classes, or even seen the world; instead, her heart hammered in her chest because of one little boy who was not that little anymore.
As she observed their family dynamic, she remembered being part of it. She was once in this scenario—for real. Now she could see the steady depression in Zach’s eyes and their parents’ adoration for their careers. It had happened to Sarah, too.
Sarah did not know what to say or do until Zach looked up, like a deer caught in the gaze of human life, and she started crying. Actual tears plummeted down her cheeks as Zach rushed over, knocking over a chair, to hug her as tightly as he could. As they clutched each other, Helena turned her back and observed her two younger children with a smile. Alison snarled, while Scott turned off the TV, joining in the hug. This triggered Helena’s reaction, and she hurried into the group hug.
Scott yelled, “Alison, come join!”
The woman shook her head, holding the ball of her stomach. “It’ll hurt the baby.”
“I like it better like this, anyway,” Zach whispered, though no one heard it. He was the happiest man alive, he thought, now that Sarah was back for the summer. Life had been unbearable without her, because she was his real mom in a lot of ways. She took him a lot of places, and she was a cool sister. They hiked together and she threw footballs with him. They worked on his batting average some days and swam at the pool on others. They both loved the library and spent a lot of Saturdays there, before—always—heading to the gas station for big gulps and snacks that were forbidden at the Towson household.
But Zach loved his sister not because of her giving heart for him, but because she stood up for him when times got rough. She was incredibly intelligent and his role model, because she had left town when everyone else was too afraid.
When everyone drifted apart, Zach held onto his sister long enough so that he could clutch her hand and drag her to where his book sat, open, on the counter. He began to explain the complexities of the novel, which Sarah noted was an adult book, and she nodded in appreciation. He was a complete and utter book fanatic, and Sarah was proud of this fact, even though she wasn’t a big reader herself. No one else in their household read for fun. Rather, reading was associated as a dim, boring chore.
As Zach rambled on and on, Helena muted the TV, peeving off Scott, so she could say, “If it isn’t Miss California, back in one piece. Oh, gosh, I’m so proud of you, honey!”
Sarah smiled, though it did not reach her eyes. “Thanks, Mom.” She felt Alison’s hot stare.
Scott finally took in the fact his news broadcast would have to wait a few moments, and then he smiled brightly. “How’d you like the Mercedes?”
His daughter tossed him the keys. “It was a sweet ride. Nice set of wheels, Dad.”
“You let her drive your hot rod?” Helena asked, arching a brow.
Scott nodded. “I thought it would sweeten her arrival. How was Grandpa Rob? Is he planning on stopping b
y tonight?”
“He was informative,” Sarah offered as Zach stared up at her, his idol. “He definitely kept me in the loop. He said he would come back tonight… But who knows.”
Helena sighed, knowing her dad was a handful. “Well, he missed you, sweetie. He really did. He’s always bragging about his granddaughter, the one who went to college in Los Angeles.”
Alison was scowling at this. She believed that Sarah was the apple of her parents’ eyes. They’d always shared a vitriolic relationship, one marred by their parents’ marital problems, but Alison was and would never be like her intelligent, perfect little sister. She had never once thought of moving away from her parents—at least not far, far away—and now the only thing anyone ever talked about was Sarah. Her accomplishments, her life in LA, her chance at stardom. Yet Alison knew deep down that they did not necessarily love Sarah more than any of the other kids, because their parents—the Towsons—were a selfish set of people.
They wanted to act like they had it all together.
Sarah hated the limelight and steered the conversation back to Zach. “So, how’ve you been, little rascal?”
“Well, I made the principal’s straight A’s list again,” he blushed.
Helena tousled his hair. “We’re very proud of you, Zach.”
Zach tensed at the physical contact. “Thanks.”
“Also, Zach won third in the local region at his wrestling championship, didn’t you?” Scott said proudly. That was one thing he and his son shared a bond in: sports. Sometimes Scott took Zach away for the weekend to Atlanta, so they could watch a Falcons game away from the presence of the family women, who hated the sport with a burning passion.
“That’s right,” Zach seconded. “I really like wrestling, but I also love reading.” He lifted up the book to cover his face and whispered to his sister, “I started writing stories, too. My teacher sent one off to a statewide contest.”
“Seriously? That’s incredible, Zach. You want to show me this story?”
He shrugged, but Sarah knew deep down that of course he wanted his story to be shared with his favorite family member. “Yeah, maybe.”
Sarah looked up to Alison, who absent-mindedly scrolled through her phone. “And Ali, how are you?”
Alison looked up, her eyes bloodshot, but her beauty still effervescent. “Pregnant.”
Helena and Scott felt the tension, so they steered the conversation along a river of ease. “Alison can’t wait for the big day.”
“And how’s Jerry?” Jerry was Alison’s husband, a computer technician who made steady pay. He and Alison had wed the previous summer after five long years of dating, so Jerry had become a staple at the house. Sarah was surprised Jerry wasn’t around at that precise moment, just because he and Alison were usually inseparable and had been that way since their first month of dating.
“Jerry’s fine,” Alison sharply responded.
Helena jumped in. “He’s doing really well. He’s so excited for the baby. He placed a bet with us that she’s going to have a little boy, but I have this gut feeling it will be a little girl. My first grandbaby! And I’m only forty-six. Much too young to be a grandmother.”
“Not in ancient times, sweetie,” Scott said, kissing her cheekbone.
Zach tugged on Sarah’s shirt. “Want to go outside and play?”
“Not right now, Zach,” answered Helena. “We all want to see Sarah.”
“Later?” Sarah asked, to which her brother nodded.
“Well,” intervened Helena, “let’s eat. Like we used to.”
If someone was listening carefully, the tone of Scott’s voice would conjure dread. “A family dinner.”