Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
SARAH
It had been five weeks since their “perfect” weekend getaway to Whistler.
Sarah could still feel the ghost of Nell’s body pressed up against her, the feeling of Nell’s lips on her skin as they’d devoured each other well into the early hours of the morning.
But something had changed between when they had fallen asleep, wrapped up in each other’s arms, and the following morning, when she had woken up alone in the large bed.
Nell was already awake, acting so differently than she ever had with her, almost like they were strangers.
She replayed the weekend in her mind a hundred different ways, trying to find where she had misstepped, or a warning she might have missed. But if she could go back and do the weekend over again, she wouldn’t do anything differently. All she had done was what Nell had asked of her.
That shift was magnified even more when an entire week had gone by and she hadn’t once heard from Nell. The silence quietly gutted her.
In the months leading up to Whistler, Nell had become a constant presence in her daily life, from morning texts to little notes about her day and voice messages so funny Sarah laughed out loud in her car listening to them.
Now, the absence of those messages was a distorted kind of phantom limb, one she kept reaching for even though it wasn’t there.
So, after an entire week of hearing absolutely nothing from Nell, she had sent a text. Just wanted to check in. Are you okay?
Hours had passed before Nell’s response arrived. Busy week. Catch up later —N
Later never came. Sarah had stopped counting the days after they hit double digits because, at that point, it was just sad. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t still waiting for Nell to have the decency to follow up with her. She deserved that much.
So, yeah, so much for their perfect weekend.
She sighed as she squatted in front of the dryer, opening it and pulling still-warm clothes from the machine.
The wooden stairs creaked beneath her feet as she climbed up to the main level of the house, basket in hand, before dumping the laundry onto the couch.
“You’ve been on leave from work for, what, two weeks, and all you’ve done is clean and do laundry,” Kelly said, entering the room from the hall, sitting next to the pile of laundry Sarah had just started folding.
A few stray socks tumbled to the ground as the couch cushion gave under Kelly’s weight.
“I thought you were supposed to be figuring out what’s next? ”
“I was behind, and now I’m caught up,” Sarah said dryly.
She didn’t tell Kelly much about her weekend away. Just that it had been a fun time, and which parts of it had been, but she left out the part about how everything had shifted between her and Nell and how silence had taken the place of their daily conversations.
“Well, since you’re all caught up, you can come grab drinks with me and Jamie. She just texted. We’re going downtown. Come with us! I think Amanda is coming, too. Get out of the house for a bit and have some fun,” Kelly offered, as she laced up her boots.
“I’m going to pass, Kel,” Sarah said, picking up another shirt from the laundry pile and giving it a flourish. “Lily’s at Beth’s this weekend, and Wren is off at the She Believes Cup. I have the house to myself and some reality TV to catch up on. Sounds like a great evening to me.”
“I don’t know how you watch that Housewives garbage. I just can’t with all the screeching they do.”
“It’s my calm, happy place,” Sarah deadpanned.
Kelly studied her for a moment, just as their mom had done so many times. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’ve been a little weird since . . .” She dropped the end of her sentence, but Sarah understood what she was implying.
“I’m fine, Kel. Really,” she said, convincing no one. “Go have fun with Jamie and Amanda. And while you’re out, maybe try and get a lead on an apartment. I didn’t realize when you said you needed a place to crash for a while, you actually meant several months.”
Kelly hopped to her feet before moving toward the front door.
“Oh, Beth’s here, by the way. Just pulled in the driveway,” Kelly called from the front hall, then Sarah heard the opening and closing of the door.
A moment later, it opened again, and she heard Beth kicking off her shoes before making her way down the hall into the back of the house, where Sarah was still folding laundry.
Sarah looked up and caught Beth’s eye. She, of course, looked perfect, as always, in a cream-colored turtleneck that was artfully tucked into high-rise light-wash jeans.
Her hair was longer than it had been in a while—almost the same length as when they had gotten married.
This length had always been Sarah’s favorite, especially the way Beth used to trap her in her curtain of hair and kiss her until she couldn’t breathe and—
Stop!
Beth didn’t even greet her, just breezed past and dropped into the spot on the couch Kelly vacated mere minutes ago.
“I swear to God I’m going to lose my mind.” Her words came out in one long, exasperated huff.
“Rough day?” Sarah asked, still hunting through the pile for the mate to the single sock in her hand.
Beth took the sock from her and began to separate all the socks from the laundry pile. In the years and countless loads of laundry they had done together, Sarah could always count on her to perfectly match every sock. She was the family sock whisperer.
“Jamie.” Beth’s voice was tinged with frustration as she said Jamie’s name.
She should have known. This pattern had started a few weeks ago.
Beth and Jamie would fight, then Beth would show up at her house to complain about said fight.
Sarah should have stopped it right away.
It was inappropriate, and Sarah knew better.
But that part of her that still quietly longed for Beth? That part had a harder time saying no.
So she sat, listened, and every time, she would advise Beth on how to resolve things with Jamie. What was a little more torture, after all? Clearly, she was developing a taste for it.
“Another fight?” She tossed Beth a sock that had been knocked to the ground.
Beth’s laugh gave away her annoyance immediately as she matched the two socks together and placed the pair into the basket.
“I wish I could even call it that. That’s the thing.
We don’t argue or yell, she just shuts down, and I’m left trying to figure out where her head is at and if she’s ever truly going to let me all the way in. ”
Yup. This was totally inappropriate. But Beth’s comment made her ears perk up as she reached for another article of clothing. Without a word, she let Beth continue.
“I mean, she’s never been good about saying how she feels. For a while, things were getting better, and she was making progress in letting her walls down. I’ve seen her growth, but I thought by now we’d be growing a little more in the same direction, you know?”
Sarah nodded carefully as she placed a folded sweatshirt into the basket.
“You’ve always been more in touch with your emotions than most. Some people don’t know how to attach a name to what they’re feeling, and given Jamie’s history, I think a lot of how she responds is understandable.
Don’t you?” Sarah asked, cautiously aware of the fine line this conversation was treading.
“I know, and I keep trying to remind myself of that. But then I think how you used to be like that, too. When we met, you had such high walls. You were the queen of avoidance. But over time, those walls came down, and at least when we fought, I always knew where we stood.” Sarah’s hand jerked suddenly at the unexpected comparison, sending the basket of folded laundry tumbling to the ground.
“Fuck.” She cursed under her breath, trying and failing to catch the basket. She bent down to collect the clothes, and Beth joined her.
“I know it’s silly,” Beth said quietly, picking up scattered pairs of socks, “but sometimes, I miss fighting with you.”
Sarah froze, her breath caught in her chest. What? What did that mean? Beth missed fighting with her? Why was Beth comparing the relationship they had shared to her current relationship with Jamie, and why the hell was she telling her about it now?
“Even when we were at each other’s throats, I could always tell how much you trusted me to let me see you fight for something.”
They both stood at the same time, Sarah holding the laundry basket in front of her, creating a buffer of much-needed space.
Her eyes met Beth’s, and she immediately felt the pull of that quiet thread in her chest—that same invisible string that had always tied the two of them together, no matter how hard she had tried to sever it.
Stuff it down.
She urged her mind to tuck each and every one of her feelings for Beth away, back into their box, but it was no use. She had a way of spilling out every time.
Beth was close enough that Sarah could smell her shampoo lingering in the air.
Lavender, just like always. Just like she remembered from the hundreds of times she had picked it up for her at the grocery store.
It filled her as she inhaled deeply, letting the scent hurt her in the best way possible as memories flooded her vision: running errands together, Saturdays at the aquarium with Lily, dancing in the living room to the sound of the rain outside.
“We had different ways of getting there, but I always trusted we were heading in the same direction,” Beth said.
Sarah stood, frozen to the spot, watching as Beth’s gaze dropped to her mouth, lingering for just a moment, but to Sarah, it felt like an eternity.
That had been a look.
“What are you doing?” Sarah asked.