Chapter
Six
Sawyer
After falling into bed with my clothes still on, I slept for a solid twelve hours Thursday night. On Friday, I baked while watching multiple YouTube videos on how to stop your toilet from constantly sounding like there was running water in the tank. I still wasn’t sure if I had figured that out, and I hated to bother the landlord if it was something I could figure out myself. It was one of those things that I could ask Talia about, but she and her husband Rob already did too much for me. Later in the day, I went for a run and read a few chapters of a middle grade book I was buddy reading with one of my pre-teens. By Saturday morning, I was a brand new woman, refreshed from having a day that wasn’t complete chaos. I had baked dozens of oatmeal butterscotch cookies as a thank you to Soren, Officer Fulton, and the volunteers, along with a chocolate chip cookie dough cheesecake for Talia.
Baking was comforting to me. It forced me to think about something unimportant and allowed my mind to take a break. I liked the certainty of measuring ingredients to produce a desired outcome. Baking was so much easier than people. If only I could apply the same goals to situations and get the desired outcome every time. I planned to deliver the cheesecake to Talia, take some cookies to the sheriff’s office, and then drop some off at Soren’s house. It was presumptuous, especially since I didn’t have his contact information to ask if it was okay. Although, after wrecking almost his entire day on Thursday, I thought cookies were a nice gesture to say thank you for his help. Mrs. Bailey had called on Friday to say that Connor was in better spirits and had been building a wooden birdhouse with Mr. Bailey.
Once the fog of extreme exhaustion had cleared, I couldn’t stop thinking about how familiar everything seemed in that part of Rhodes County, especially in the town of Kennedy. I had visited the Bailey’s house multiple times to transport children, but never from the direction I drove on Thursday. I had no recollection of having ever visited the picturesque small town of Kennedy, but there was something about it. After I dropped off the cookies and expressed my appreciation, I wanted to drive around and see if any memories surfaced. It was like a splinter in my memory, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it because it all struck me as being just out of reach. But first I needed a shower, because after the hot mess I was on Thursday, I wanted to look nice when I dropped those cookies off. By 9 a.m., I was freshly showered, with my hair down in soft waves. I spent entirely too much time on a face of makeup that was purposefully meant to appear as though I wasn’t wearing any. According to the videos I watched online, it was the go-to makeup application technique. I completed the outfit with thick black leggings and an oversized chambray shirt rolled up at the elbows that covered my bum. I pulled on light brown knee-high boots and added a pair of small, star-shaped gold studs. My chain always stayed beneath my shirt, so there was never a need to try to match metals. Although, according to my ever-present online research, metals could be mixed. I just didn’t understand the rules of when it worked and when it didn’t. As with all things I didn’t fully understand, I avoided even attempting it.
After I placed the cookies and cheesecake into containers, I drove over to Talia’s. She was returning to her porch after a jog, pushing her athletic stroller that held her daughter, Ava. She swiped an arm over her glistening forehead and chugged a few sips of water. Today’s ensemble was cobalt blue yoga pants with a cheetah print crewneck that had cobalt blue seams that matched her pants. She smiled brightly, eagerly waving me over.
“I had to get a slog in because I knew you were bringing my weakness over!” She called out with a laugh as I walked up. I smiled at her excitement and her use of the word slog. It was her way of saying slow jog.
“I tweaked the topping a little. Let me know what you think once you have a chance to try it.” I peeked in the stroller and saw Ava, her eighteen-month-old, fast asleep. Her thick black lashes rested on her round cheeks.
“Sure thing! Everything you make is always good.”
We walked toward the front steps of her light gray, Craftsman-style home, and Talia took the cheesecake inside to the kitchen. I stood with the stroller outside and brushed my finger across Ava’s soft forehead as I tucked a stuffed animal frog beside her. Talia would say she had plenty of toys, but I always retorted that this sweet girl could never be spoiled too much. Ava was too young to know it now, but she had seriously lucked out in the parent department. Talia wasn’t sunshine, she was the sun, and her husband, Rob, was head over heels in love with her. Talia owned a therapy practice where she worked three days a week, spending the rest of her time with Ava. Rob was the local Assistant District Attorney. Their love was a once-in-a-lifetime kind of love, and I knew whatever they faced, they’d face it together. To say Ava had the best parents in the world was an understatement. She’d never have the childhood worries I had, and no matter what, I’d be there for her. Talia was already trying to teach her to say Auntie Sawyer, which came out as a jumble of too many A’s and S’s. It was adorable. I’d always be Ava’s cheerleader, and she had years of spoiling ahead.
When Talia returned, we settled on the porch steps that were lined with potted plants, and Talia did what Talia does best and read me like a book.
“ Soo . . . you’re going to see that hot cowboy again? You look cute by the way.” She winked and nudged my shoulder with hers. Subtlety was not her strong suit. I rolled my eyes.
“I mean, if he’s there, but only to say thank you. You remember how I was saying something felt familiar about the area?”
“Yeah.” She said while taking another sip of water.
“Well . . . I can’t shake that feeling. It’s like I lived nearby or something. It’s strange but familiar.” I tilted my head back. “Ugh. It’s so frustrating sometimes piecing my childhood together, but you know how sometimes I’ll have bad reactions about places and not be able to explain why?”
She nodded, and I continued.
“There’s something about the town of Kennedy and that part of Rhodes County. Something big happened there, but I don’t remember what. I don’t necessarily have a bad or good vibe, but more like it’s something substantial. I don’t know.” I shook my head. “I’m hoping that something clicks today. Sometimes . . . I wonder if the things I find or remember are things I should be happy I forgot.” I rubbed the thumbnail of one hand against the palm of my other. Talia reached out and placed her soft hand on mine to still my fidgeting.
“Your childhood was a battlefield. It’s understandable you spent most of it in survival mode, Sawyer. Do you need me to go with you? I’m off today. I’ll go if you need me.” She was the best friend a girl could ever hope for.
“No, I’ll be okay. I’m going to drop off the cookies and drive around the area to see if anything comes to me.” I leaned my head on her shoulder, and she rested her cheek on my head.
“Forever friends,” she promised, and I echoed the same.
This was something we established our freshman year of college. I was the youngest in my class, having completed college classes while also attending high school. I was completely overwhelmed by the atmosphere of the college life experience. The people were loud, and I was almost always trying to avoid guys. For the first time in my life, I had structure and complete freedom at the same time. Talia found me lost on the first day of classes and quickly deemed that we were destined to be forever friends. She didn’t know until almost a year afterward how much those words meant to me. After a hard test one day, I had crumbled, and I couldn’t hide my broken childhood from her anymore. I explained my quirks as best as I understood them. My over-the-top organization, my reaction to people touching me, my discomfort in loud places, and the reasons I avoided all men—despite their attractiveness or my desire to have a family. Talia declared that my life story reminded her of a Lifetime movie where you wondered how many bad things could happen repeatedly to one person.
She admitted one night that she had never contemplated how adults that grew up in foster care, or kids from difficult backgrounds, might have lingering effects, or how simply becoming an adult didn’t miraculously fix years of trauma. It was then that she had changed her major to become a therapist specializing in childhood trauma. Her parents were furious that she left the path to law school, but she was determined to make a difference in another way. Talia knew that my focus in social work was my way of preventing the childhood I had from happening to more children. A childhood where adults turned a blind eye to the atrocities that happened to me. Where they willingly stood by while I endured unthinkable things. The foster parents always said the right things, and I had appeared fed and was clothed, so they would check the right boxes and let things be. I hit some extremely dark places in my teenage years, but the kindness of a small handful of individuals throughout my childhood provided the light I needed to keep moving forward, one step at a time. I knew the statistics I faced, and I had refused to fall victim to the traumas of my childhood. I would graduate from high school. I would complete college. I would not repeat the patterns of abuse and cruelty I had endured. Everything was going to stop with me. Talia took the time to befriend my misunderstood college self, and I was forever grateful when she became my friend.
We caught up for a few more minutes before I kissed sweet Ava’s forehead while Talia sent me off with a laugh about seeing a hot cowboy.