Chapter 21
Sarah
The following Saturday, the pool deck was chaos. Spring breakers everywhere, music blasting, the smell of sunscreen and chlorine mixing in the humid air. Sarah stood at her office window watching Lizzie coordinate the welcome party for the new arrivals. She had it all under control.
Sarah’s door opened. Esmeralda walked in with a stack of linen inventory reports.
“Your intern is doing well. In more ways than one.”
“She is.”
“You look happy. It’s nice to see.”
Sarah turned from the window. “I am happy. For the first time in a long time.”
Esmeralda set down the reports and pulled Sarah into a hug. “Billy would be glad. He always wanted you to find someone who made you smile like that.”
Before she could reply, Sarah’s phone rang. She glanced at the screen and her mood soured immediately.
Mom. Again.
“You should answer it,” Esmeralda said, seeing her face.
“No. Things never change with her. It’s always the same. Money, guilt, manipulation.” Sarah silenced the call. “I’m not doing this today.”
“Maybe things have changed. You don’t know unless you talk to her.”
“I know my mother. Trust me, nothing’s changed.”
The phone stopped ringing. A minute later, a voicemail notification appeared.
Esmeralda looked at her. “At least listen to it.”
“I will. Later.” Sarah shoved the phone in her pocket. “Did you need something else?”
Esmeralda sighed but didn’t push. They went over the linen reports, discussing replacement schedules and vendor contracts. Professional. Safe. Nothing to do with mothers or family or the past Sarah had spent years running from.
After Esmeralda left, Sarah pulled out her phone. Stared at the voicemail notification. She should delete it. Pretend it never happened. But she pressed play anyway.
Her mother’s voice came through slurred and thick.
Sarah, baby, it’s Mom. I know you’re busy down there in Florida living your fancy life, but your father and I really need your help.
We got kicked out of the apartment. We just need a little help.
Five thousand would get us back on our feet.
That’s nothing to you. Call me back. Please, baby. We’re desperate.
The message ended. Sarah sat there staring at her desk.
Five thousand dollars. That’s nothing to you.
Her vision blurred. She wiped her eyes quickly, but tears kept coming. Stupid. She was being stupid. Her mother had made her choices. Sarah didn’t owe her anything. But the guilt sat in her chest anyway. Heavy and familiar.
The door opened. Lizzie walked in with her phone and a huge smile that faded the moment she saw Sarah’s face.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’m fine.”
“You’re crying.”
Sarah wiped her face. “Just a foolish situation with a relative. It’s not important.”
Lizzie closed the door and came around the desk. She pulled Sarah up and wrapped her arms around her.
“Talk to me.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” Sarah pulled away gently. “How’s the party setup going?”
“Don’t change the subject.”
“Please. I don’t want to talk about it.”
Lizzie looked like she wanted to argue but nodded instead. “The party setup is good. Everything’s ready.”
“Good. That’s good.”
They stood there in awkward silence. Sarah could feel Lizzie studying her face, trying to figure out what to say.
“I should get back out there,” Lizzie said. “But I’m here. If you want to talk.”
“I know. Thank you.”
After Lizzie left, Sarah sat back down and deleted the voicemail. Again.
***
That evening, Sarah unlocked her apartment door and found Lizzie already inside making dinner. She’d given Lizzie a key two days ago. It had felt natural, right.
“I made pasta,” Lizzie called from the kitchen. “Hope that’s okay.”
“It’s perfect.”
Sarah dropped her bag and went to wrap her arms around Lizzie from behind. Breathed in the smell of her shampoo and tomato sauce and felt some of the tension from earlier drain away.
They ate at the small table. Lizzie talked about the party, her plans for the next welcome event, ideas she had for improving the spring break experience.
“You’ve been here three weeks already,” Sarah said. “Hard to believe.”
Lizzie’s fork paused halfway to her mouth. “Three more weeks left. Then back to New York.”
“Unless you don’t go back.”
Lizzie set down her fork. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve been thinking about it. About us. About what happens when the internship ends.” Sarah reached across and took her hand. “I don’t want this to end, Lizzie. I know it’s only been a few weeks, but I can’t imagine going back to my life before you.”
“I can’t either.”
“So what if you stayed? Finished your degree here?”
Lizzie’s eyes widened. “In Key West?”
“There’s the Florida Keys Community College. You could talk to someone in admissions.” Sarah squeezed her hand. “Or there are schools in Miami if you wanted something bigger. It’s far but your stepdad is there, so maybe you could split your time?”
“You’ve really been thinking about this.”
“I have. But I need to be honest with you about what it would look like.” Sarah pulled her hand back. “We still couldn’t be open about us. Not until the lawsuit is settled.”
Lizzie nodded slowly. “I know.”
“You’d need to live on your own. We couldn’t have you staying here all the time. Not where people could see.” Sarah hated saying it out loud. “You could work part-time at the Carlson. I could help you find a place. Or maybe you could room with Chrisla if she’s looking for someone.”
“So we’d still be secret.”
“For now. Yes.” Sarah met her eyes. “I know that’s not fair to you. I know it’s asking a lot. But once everything is settled—”
“Then we could be together. Really together.”
“Yes.”
Lizzie was quiet for a long moment. “I need to think about it. Talk to my mom. I can also with NYU about remote learning options.”
“Of course. I’m not trying to pressure you.”
“I know.” Lizzie reached back across the table. “But I want you to know that I want this. I want to stay. I just need to figure out the logistics.”
“Okay.” After a beat, she dipped her head to one side. “Has Cynthia said anything else? Since the beach?”
“About what?”
“About seeing us. On the island.”
“Not that I’ve heard. Why?”
“She extended her stay. Another two weeks.”
Lizzie pushed pasta around her plate. “She’ll miss a lot of classes. She did the same thing last year. Just doesn’t care.”
“Her parents probably donate enough that the school looks the other way.”
“Probably.” Lizzie set down her fork. “I don’t like it, Sarah. Her being here longer. Watching us.”
“We’ll be careful. Let’s not talk about that troll anymore,” Sarah said with a smile. “She’ll be gone soon enough. You know, we should have made her go on that ghost tour. If she’s scared of iguana’s I’m sure the story about Robert the doll would have really had her pee her pants.”
Lizzie burst out laughing. “You are the worst, Sarah.”
“I aim to please.” She paused a moment. “I do sometimes wonder about ghosts. Like I wonder if Billy can see me now.”
“I don’t know. Sometimes I think I want to believe. Like maybe my dad’s still around somehow, watching out for us.” Lizzie played with the edge of a throw pillow. “I still expect him to walk in the door sometimes. Is that silly?”
“Not at all.” Sarah reached over and took her hand. Lizzie’s thumb brushed over hers, soft and tender.
“Do you ever think that about your dad?”
Immediately, Sarah looked away. “Not really. I didn’t really know him. So it’s just not the same, I guess.”
She hated lying about this part of herself more than she’d hated lying about being gay. But there were some things she couldn’t share with Lizzie, as much as she wanted to. And the truth was, this part she didn’t want to share.
“I guess,” Lizzie said, frowning. “What about your mom? I mean, I know she’s alive. But like, where? You don’t mention her a lot.”
Sarah pulled her hand back and stood up. “She’s in Texas.” She felt Lizzie staring at her without even having to turn around.
“Texas?”
“Yeah.”
A moment’s hesitation. “I thought you said you were from Wisconsin.”
“We moved a lot. I lived in California and Colorado too,” Sarah said as she turned around.
“Oh, ok. It’s just that you never talk about your family, that’s all.”
Sarah shrugged. “There’s nothing to tell. My dad is dead, my mom isn’t someone I talk to. No siblings. That’s that.”
Lizzie pulled back and looked at her. Really looked. Sarah could see the questions in her eyes. The concern. The confusion about why Sarah kept evading her questions. Because clearly, that was not in fact that. There was more. Sarah knew it. And Lizzie could sense it.
“Let’s talk about something else, alright?” She stepped closer to her and grabbed Lizzie’s hands, pulling her up.
But Lizzie just nodded. “Okay. Something else.”
They moved back to the couch. Sarah pulled Lizzie into her lap, and they kissed until Sarah could almost forget the voicemail. The tears in her office. The way her mother’s voice still had the power to make her feel six years old and worthless.
But she could feel Lizzie’s confusion. The way she held back slightly, uncertain. Sarah was pushing her away without meaning to. Creating distance with kisses instead of words.
And she had no idea how to stop.