Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
MARVIN HAMLISCH, “I’LL NEVER LEAVE YOU”
Sarah
I could either love God or pretend that He had a plan for all of us, but I couldn’t do both because His plans didn’t feel like love.
While everyone filled the church for Joanna’s funeral, I sat in the old cemetery, resting against a headstone.
Walter Arnold
Beloved husband and father
1902-1974
“You should be inside,” Heather said, taking a seat next to me. She wore the same stone-washed denim shorts and blue Gap pocket tee she had on the day she dropped me off at the church to go to Nashville with Isaac.
“Yeah, well, you should be alive,” I said after a tiny grunt .
She picked a dandelion and plucked each little yellow petal. “Tell me about Nashville.”
I smiled. “Isaac let me sing on stage, and I didn’t want to leave. There’s something really special about singing to a crowd of people. Music is so much more than notes and lyrics. It’s an emotion, like when something moves you so deeply or gets you so excited that you can’t just speak the words; you have to sing them because you don’t want people to just hear the words. You want them to feel them. Music is what happens when your body and soul speak at the same time.”
Heather leaned her head back against the headstone and closed her eyes while humming. “I love that.”
“Me too,” I whispered.
She stood.
“Where are you going?”
“Joanna’s making popcorn for the funeral. You know how much I love popcorn.” She nodded toward the church. “Get going. I bet your family saved you a seat.”
“Don’t go,” I said, quickly standing and wiping off my wrinkled dress.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she said, wistfully walking away and glancing over her shoulder with a sly grin. “But you are.” She winked. “You’re going far. Carry me with you. Sing me all of your songs. Be with the man of our dreams. Just don’t be afraid.” She turned back toward the gates and kept walking.
“Afraid of what?” I tried to reach her, but she remained effortlessly out of reach.
“Letting go.”
“Letting go of what?”
“The hate … the fear … the need to please …” She laughed, holding her hands out to the side like an angel. “Let it all go.”
As quickly as she appeared, she vanished.
I combed my fingers through my sticky hair. After I left Isaac, I went to McDonald’s for a drink and to use the bathroom to freshen up. Then I picked up a deodorant at the pharmacy. Still, I was a mess.
As I slipped into the church, my dad finished his opening prayer with a mumbled “Amen” from Joanna’s friends and family. I hadn’t been friends with her as long as I had with Heather, but ten years was still a long time, and my bravery was waning by that point. I just wanted to hide somewhere far away from these people who looked at me with pity as I padded my way to the row where my mom and sisters were sitting next to the Corys.
I don’t know why I didn’t expect to see Isaac, but he was there, and so was Matt. They sat together with their parents in the middle separating them. Everyone in Devil’s Head excelled at brushing things under the rug and plastering on fake smiles when necessary. It was small-town protocol.
But my broom was broken, and I was fresh out of plaster.
Isaac sat on the end of the aisle, so instead of squeezing past everyone’s knees to reach my mom and sisters, I wedged into the ten-inch space between him and the end of the bench. I didn’t look at his parents or Matt, nor did I look at my mom and sisters.
When everyone scooted in to make room for me, Isaac didn’t budge, not even as my dad eyed us while quoting scripture. Isaac held his space, which meant we were touching shoulder to toe. He didn’t look at me, and I didn’t look at him, but I felt him. And that was enough to hold it together .
Joanna’s cousin sang a song, and our friend Kennedy recited a poem. I didn’t sob as I did at Heather’s funeral, but with every blink, I released tears. Isaac proved to be his father’s son, whether he would have liked that label or not. He handed me a neatly folded hanky. As I blotted my tears, I slid my leg around the back of his. It wasn’t holding hands, but it was a close second that was more discreet.
After the final prayer, I continued to look straight ahead at the stained-glass window while the casket and family were ushered out of the church. When our row stood, everyone filed toward the middle aisle, but I turned left, fleeing down the side aisle and squeezing past an older couple exiting the double doors. If Joanna and Heather were eating popcorn without me, I would not put myself through the burial. So I ran to my car, which was parked a ways down the road. As I drove past the steep drive up to the church, Eve came out of nowhere and smacked the back of my car with her hand.
I skidded to a stop, and she hopped in the passenger’s seat, breathless.
When I opened my mouth to protest, she shook her head. “Just drive.”
We had an hour, maybe two, before Mom, Dad, and Gabby would be home. I parked in front of the garage. Eve and I hadn’t said a word since she got into the car. I didn’t know what she expected from me, and it didn’t matter. All that mattered was getting out of that stupid black dress that reeked of sweat and death.
Eve followed me into the garage like my shadow. I grabbed a pack of matches and a can of gasoline that Dad used for the lawnmower. Then I headed to the back of the house where we had a burn barrel.
“What are you doing?” Eve broke her silence .
I ignored her while unzipping my dress and kicking off my shoes. I threw them into the barrel and stared at Eve. After a silent exchange, Eve removed her dress and shoes and added them to the barrel. Then I poured gasoline on everything and tossed a lit match into the bin as we took a big step back when flames engulfed the contents. After a few minutes, Eve stood behind me and wrapped her arms around my waist, resting her chin on my shoulder. There was no way to hide the obvious: I would never be the same.
We stood idle, mesmerized by the fire— bereft with a heart wrapped in grief. Eve’s empathy brought about a fresh round of tears. I rested my hands on hers and whispered, “Thank you.”
We stood there until the flames died. I pulled out of Eve’s embrace, walked into the house, and straight to the shower. But no matter how hard I scrubbed my skin with a bar of soap, I couldn’t erase what had happened. There were too many layers of despair.
With a towel wrapped around my head, I wiped the steam from the mirror and gazed at the utter disappointment staring back at me. I escaped death. Did that make me lucky or a cheater? Would Heather have left that early in the morning? Would Joanna have lived had I been there and she would have sat in the back seat?
The answers to those questions didn’t change reality, but they changed my self-worth. Did God punish my friends for covering for me? Did he spare my life so that I would suffer the most?
After another minute or two of self-loathing, I sulked toward my bedroom.
“Want to feel less awful for a little bit?” Eve said, standing in her doorway. She was wearing a T-shirt and underwear and holding a bottle of tequila.
“I knew you were the bigger rebel,” I said while padding my way toward her and taking the bottle as she shut her bedroom door behind us. “Where did you get this?” I removed the lid and took a swig, coughing the second it burned my throat.
“It’s best if you don’t know.” She grabbed the bottle and tipped it at her lips, swallowing without a single cough before passing it back to me. “I’m still a virgin, which means you’re still the bigger rebel.”
“About that,” I sat on her bed, folding my legs under me, “Don’t give it to another virgin. It’s not beautiful. It’s awkward and awful.”
Her eyebrows climbed up her head. “You had sex with Matt?”
I nodded.
“ And Isaac.”
After another big swig, I nodded again, already feeling the tequila hitting my brain. “It’s funny how with most things in life, we learn from teachers or people who are far more experienced, but with sex,” I laughed, “the Bible wants us to believe that men and women should just figure it out together for the first time.” I waved my hand in the air as she took the bottle from me. “Nonsense.” I fell back onto her bed next to her. “Find a guy who knows what he’s doing. Who loves giving you orgasms.” I closed my eyes as my head began to swim. “Isaac gives the best orgasms.”
Eve giggled. “I’m pretty good too. I touch myself all the time, but I do it in the dark under my sheets so Jesus won’t see me.”
We laughed and drank until I was certain we’d confessed all of our sins to each other, knowing neither would remember the next day.
“Sarah? Eve?” Mom called from downstairs.
Thunk!
I rolled off the bed and hit the floor, scrambling to stand as I lost the towel around my head and the one around my body. Eve giggled, covering her mouth. Then I snorted as I snatched a towel off the floor and wrapped it around my waist.
“Sarah.” Eve pointed to my breasts, and I looked down.
“Oops …” I giggled again, pulling the towel over my breasts and stumbling across the hall to my bedroom.
“Sarah?” Mom yelled again.
Quickly closing and locking the door, I turned, pausing as I faced my bed, where Isaac’s guitar case lay with a folded note, my cream cowboy hat, boots, and the bag of clothes he bought me.
I looked around as though I thought he was hiding somewhere.
“Sarah?” Mom knocked on my door.
I scrambled to hide everything under my bed and shoved the note into my nightstand drawer.
“Open the door, Sarah.”
I held my arms out, fingers stiff like a cat falling from a tree. “Be cool,” I whispered to myself. If I could just stay cool, chilled, and calm, she wouldn’t know I was drunk.
“Hey,” I said, opening the door.
Mom grimaced. “Where are your clothes?”
The towel!
I dropped the towel in the process of hiding the guitar, and I forgot to cover up before opening the door.
Slapping a hand over my mouth, I laughed .
Mom stepped closer. “You’ve been drinking. You’re drunk.”
I shook my head, but I couldn't stop laughing.
“Go to bed right now. If your dad finds out, he’s going to be livid. This week has been unbearable for him. You, out of all people, should know that. This is disrespectful to everyone. I don't know what has gotten into you lately, young lady, but this has got to stop.”
“Welp, tell that to God. Maybe he should have thought about that before He let my friends die.” I tipped my chin up, making duck lips as if I had a valid point instead of an acute case of too much tequila.
“Sarah Elaine Jacobson, you are alive. If that’s not by the grace of God, then I don’t know what is.”
When the door closed behind her, I stepped back until the side of my bed hit my legs, and I fell onto the mattress, closed my eyes, and surrendered to the alcohol.