The Magic of Light

Chapter

Ten

Soren

I took a sip of my chocolate milkshake as we turned into my drive. Sawyer hadn’t spoken a word the entire time. I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to hold her hand or offer a hug. My mom was the biggest hugger I knew, and I guess being her son must have rubbed it off on me. But how did you comfort someone when touch was taken out of the equation? I contemplated the right words as I grabbed my milkshake and the grease stained bag of burgers in one hand and rounded the hood to help her out. Sawyer sat, holding her milkshake in one hand, as she stared ahead. I was certain she hadn’t even taken a sip. I nudged her cup with mine.

“Abel liked strawberry too.” She studied the cup as if seeing it for the first time and took a sip, followed by another.

“This is good,” she replied softly, turning toward me.

“Ronnie makes a great milkshake. His burgers are solid too,” I commented, holding up the brown paper bag.

We made our way up the porch steps and since it was such a mild day, we decided to eat on the porch swing. I separated the food between us. Setting our cups in the cup holders built into the armrests, we dug into the burgers and homemade, seasoned onion rings between us. After Sawyer finished eating, she pulled her knees to her chest and rested her chin atop her knees. It was as if she were curling in on herself. She had remained quiet throughout the meal, but she ate as if she were genuinely hungry. She was so small all wrapped up that I had that instinct to hug her again. Her face was that of complete vulnerability as she took a shaky breath.

“Abel was my best friend during a difficult time in my childhood.”

I shifted my body toward her to absorb every word she spoke. When you lived with grief daily, you learned that it resembled tides in the ocean. There were times where it was a flood, and then there were other times where it was less, but it was always still there. For a season, I couldn’t talk about Abel. The pain ate at me, but as the years had created some distance between the event that ended his life and the memories of our childhood, I craved every moment. I wanted to remember all the things that made my best friend, my brother, exactly who he was. To know these previously unknown parts of his life was like standing in a field on the verge of drought, praying for rain and there were storm clouds brewing in the distance. They were pieces of him I had never seen.

“When was that?” I asked, desperately wanting to know more.

“We were seven or eight years old, I think. I’d been moved once again to a new foster home. My childhood is a jumble of memories. It’s hard to map it out sometimes or remember the sequence of houses I lived in. Partially because I moved frequently and partially because my brain was in survival mode, which made it difficult to retain information.” She paused, clearing her throat, and continued, “I always excelled and felt safe at school, though. Abel and I were in the same class. We always sat together at lunch and on the school bus.”

I rubbed my sternum against the ache there. I couldn’t imagine her childhood.

“I’m sorry. I can’t imagine.” My throat was thick. “Do you remember how long you lived here, or where you lived?”

“I think maybe five or six months. I have a memory of a Christmas party with Abel at school and another of us making a flower craft for May Day. I don’t remember the foster family’s name, but I think the dad went to jail after I left. He was arrested the night I left . . . the neighbor’s name was Sally, I think.” I noted that she didn’t finish the sentence.

“Could have been Sally Thomas. She was a retired teacher. She was in her late seventies when she passed away about two years ago. Her house would be on the same bus route, or at least it used to be. A few new houses have popped up in the last decade.” She tilted her head to the side as if she were thinking, her hair spilling over her shoulder.

“That would be about the right age, I think . . . everyone feels older when you’re seven or eight years old.”

“Why did the foster dad get arrested?” I hesitated to ask, but I knew I wouldn’t sleep tonight. Did he still live nearby, or had he moved back to the area?

She rubbed her chin on her knee, appearing even smaller.

“He and their teenage foster son were abusing me.”

I almost missed her soft whisper. A white hot rage filled my body so rapidly as my heart hammered in my chest, but I forced myself to appear calm. How anyone could hurt this woman I couldn’t comprehend. My fists tightened, but I uncurled them, not wanting to do anything that made her uncomfortable. I already knew I was going to have to spend some time with a boxing bag tonight.

“Abel gave me the military tags because he said they’d make me brave. He’d asked about my home life, and I told him I didn’t like living there.”

Of course Abel was trying to fix things in his little kid logic way. That’s who he was. There was no way Abel hadn’t talked about Sawyer after school, and my mom’s memory was a steel trap. I’d bet she remembered Sawyer. I would have had my farm permit then and drove myself to school during those years because of high school sports practice in the afternoons.

“That sounds like Abel. Did things get better after you moved?” I had to hope.

“I moved into another bad placement, but it wasn’t the same type of abuse.”

Hell.

It was a punch in the stomach. Had her entire childhood been this way? Trading one abusive hell for another? She studied a spot on the cuff of her sweater sleeve, as if shock was still slowly leaching from her body.

“Is that why you flinch when I touch you?” Her wide eyes met mine.

“Yes. But it’s not you, it’s me.” She laughed awkwardly at her word usage. My heart ached for her and for the way I had treated her.

“A therapist told me that my body has memories that my brain can’t remember, or doesn’t want to remember. It’s as if my brain is trying to protect me in a selective amnesia sort of way. There’s plenty I can remember too, but it’s not something I want to do. Certain kinds of touch are sometimes linked to old memories or buried memories.” Her voice quieted near the end.

I didn’t know what to say. What could you say? “I’m sorry your life has been hell.” Where could I even start? I knew one thing I unquestionably wanted to do, and that was to thoroughly apologize. Shame wasn’t a heavy enough word for the emotion I had for the way I’d spoken to her at the cemetery.

“Sawyer, I want to apologize for how I treated you earlier. I was an asshole. It’s been almost a decade since I’ve lost my temper like that. It’s not an excuse, but I’d like to tell you why. I was up late last night with a tough situation, and it wasn’t until lunch time that I realized it was Abel’s birthday. I’ve never forgotten his birthday. He always made such a big deal about mine, and I was angry at myself for forgetting. Not to mention, I received another phone call about another issue, and when I saw you, I was confused and took it out on you. It had nothing to do with you. Thursday was the anniversary of Abel’s death. It won’t happen again. I know right now that sounds like a line, but I can guarantee it’ll never happen again.”

I had eight years' worth of putting money, time, and effort into making choices that helped people, but she knew none of that. She had seen me on two of my worst days and after everything she’d revealed, I hated that.

Her eyes softened.

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” I spoke firmly. “Even though you don’t know me well, I want you to know that I’d never lay a hand on you in anger. Ever.” Her eyes searched my face, and she nodded as if she saw the truth.

“I can’t believe I just told you all this,” she whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, her cheeks pinkening. “It’s been a while since I’ve had such a severe C-PTSD episode. Thinking of Abel and finding out he was gone triggered those old buried memories, and it felt suffocating.”

“And then I yelled at you,” I stated as I rubbed my hand down my face. I felt like dirt. Lower than dirt. Manure. Crap. Shit.

“When I was out here on Thursday, I kept having these moments as if something was familiar. I had a hard time placing it. Then, when I was driving down Main Street in Kennedy, I remembered that this was where I met Abel. I was so excited that he may still live here that when I saw he had passed, I was blindsided. Abel was a remarkable person,” she finished softly.

“He was the best little brother.” I blinked away the moisture in my eyes.

“Can you tell me how he passed?” she asked hesitantly as her eyes soberly searched my face.

“Car wreck.” I still hated saying the words.

“Oh. Soren.”

She tentatively placed her hand on my forearm closest to her. The gentle touch pressed through my sleeve. Her compassion was appreciated, but it was somewhere I was not comfortable camping out. I had put in the hard work with George, but I could never shake the regret that Abel would be here if it wasn’t for me.

“He would have been twenty-seven today.”

“I saw the dates on the headstone, but I didn’t make the connection. I only knew Abel for a short period, but his friendship forever impacted my life. He was the only person I considered a childhood friend.”

Her words hit me squarely in the chest. She’d only known him for a few months, years ago. As someone who was still best friends with two of my childhood friends, I couldn’t imagine. My friends saved my life after Abel died. Jonah was the deep thinker in our trio, but I usually took time to think things over before I made a decision. I determined at that moment I wanted to get to know this woman better.

I didn’t have a lot of experience with women outside the bedroom, because I’d avoided them for years. This was going to be a journey, but knowing she had known Abel made me want to get to know her even more than I already did. The pull to know her was unlike anything I had ever experienced. As if there was no way my life could go forward without staying in contact with her somehow. I didn’t know exactly what I wanted other than getting to know her more, but it was one of those “no regrets” moments, and I wasn’t going to let it pass me by.

“I want to get to know you.” Her eyes widened, and I laughed awkwardly at my blunt statement. Heat crept up my neck.

“Uh okay.” She paused, having the appearance that she didn’t know what to say, and as always, my awkwardness was batting at a thousand. Maybe I could learn a thing or two from Lane.