Finding Home (25 page)

A thousand things went through Sarah’s mind then…

embarrassment, anger, disbelief, mortiÞ cation. She could put none of it into words, though. Deciding to put herself out of her misery one way or the other, she asked a simple question, so quietly it was barely audible.

“Should I be sorry?”

“No.”

The relief that Þ lled the room then, emanating from both women, was like another element in the air in addition to the oxygen and carbon dioxide, but it was almost tangible. By unspoken agreement, Natalie moved closer and Sarah extended her good arm so she could snuggle against her, Natalie’s head pillowed on Sarah’s shoulder, her body stretched the length of Sarah’s. A mufß ed shufß ing told them that Bentley was under the bed, aware that they were awake but possibly too tired to make an appearance. Natalie felt around the bed for the remote, held it up without looking, and clicked off the television, plunging the room into darkness. Bentley settled back down, just as they did.

They lay quietly, contentedly, neither speaking, Sarah wondering if Natalie was as uncertain what to say as she was. After a while, it didn’t matter, as they both drifted off to sleep.

v

“Just what exactly do you think you’re doing?” Andrea
asked, ß opping down into one of the coffee shop chairs and
propping her feet up on a table, crossing them at the ankle.

Sarah squinted at her, wondering what they were doing at
the shop and how she’d gotten there. “What do you mean?”

“She means exactly what she said.” Karen’s voice came
from behind her. When she turned, her ex occupied a different
table, but her stance was the same as Andrea’s. “What do you
think you’re doing?”

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GEORGIA BEERS

“I…I don’t understand.” Sarah’s gaze ping-ponged back
and forth between the two women.

“What they mean is she’s too good for you.” Sarah turned
to see Derek standing behind the cash register where Natalie
usually was. He smiled a friendly smile at her and punched some
buttons on the register, making it beep and ding.

“What?” Sarah was completely confused. “Who’s too good
for me?”

Derek rolled his eyes dramatically and Andrea and Karen
laughed at his expression. “Who’s too good for me?” he
mimicked.

“Natalie? Duh?” Andrea stood up and went around the
counter, helping herself to a cookie from the glass display case.

Derek punched some buttons and when the cash register drawer
opened, he pulled out a dollar and gave it to her.

“Don’t you think somebody like Natalie deserves better?”

Karen asked her seriously.

“Totally,” Andrea added. “All you’ve done from day one is
judge her. You judged her level of ambition because of her job,
you judged her intelligence level when you Þ rst met her.”

“You judged her hair, for Christ’s sake,” Derek tossed in and
then tsked, shaking his head in disapproval.

“And all she’s done in return is support you and help you and
be a friend to you.” Andrea Þ nished her cookie with a ß ourish,
then helped herself to another. Derek gave her another dollar bill
from the register while Sarah watched in confusion.

“Why are you telling me this?” Sarah was a smart woman,
smart enough to realize that something about this entire scenario
was Þ shy. “None of you want anything to do with me, and then
suddenly you all appear out of nowhere for the sole purpose of
telling me that the person I didn’t realize I was falling for is too
good for me?” She froze for several long seconds. Then her hand
ß ew to her lips as the meaning of what she’d said hit her right
between the eyes. “Oh, my God.”

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FINDING HOME

“I’ll say it again,” Andrea said with an exaggerated roll of
her eyes. “Duh.”

“Hey.” Suddenly, Karen was standing right next to her, as if
she’d simply teleported from the table across the room. Pointing
at the glass case, she said, “Try one of these cookies. They’re
delicious.” She grabbed Sarah’s left forearm and Sarah winced
as if red-hot needles were puncturing her skin…

Sarah gasped and her eyes snapped open. She was surprised, as well as relieved, to Þ nd herself staring at her own bedroom ceiling, morning sunlight streaming through the window to her left. Her injured arm was propped up on a soft pillow and throbbing, and she was alone in the bed. Uncertain if she was disappointed or thankful for that, she tried to focus on something else. She could just make out sounds coming from the kitchen…

silverware against dishes, a pan on the stove, then a soft murmur, the words of which she couldn’t quite decipher.

For the Þ rst time in what felt like forever, she sat up. Slowly and holding her good hand to her forehead, she swiveled so her feet hung off the bed. She stayed that way, unmoving, and allowed her body to adjust. Her arm injury was making itself known, but she did her best to deal with it, not wanting any more drugs in her system if she could stand it. Worrying that her bladder might burst on her, she managed to stand and shufß e her way to the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

She nearly cried out in horror when she caught a glimpse of her own reß ection in the bathroom mirror. Her new sleek and stylish haircut looked like a squirrel’s nest on top of her head, with strands and locks jutting out every which way. The dark circles under her eyes told her she’d gotten a drug-induced sleep and not a restful one. Seeing her toothbrush, she snatched it up, pasted it, and began working diligently to erase the little sweaters that seemed to clothe her teeth. Holding the brush in her mouth so she could use her good hand to pull down her panties, she

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GEORGIA BEERS

Þ nally managed to relieve herself, expelling a large breath as she did so.

The knock on the bathroom door startled her and she ß inched, dribbling toothpaste onto the front of her T-shirt.

“Sarah?” Natalie’s voice had the slightest twinge of concern.

“You okay?”

“Uh-huh.” Stretching from the toilet, Sarah spat into the sink next to it, only partially hitting her target. “Son of a bitch,” she muttered. Raising her voice slightly, she answered, “Yeah, I’m Þ ne. I’m going to take a shower.”

“Do you need help?”

“No,” she answered, too quickly. The idea of Natalie’s warm hands on her naked body sent way too many confusing feelings rushing through her bloodstream. “No, I’m Þ ne. Thanks. I can do it.”

“I made some scrambled eggs. I thought you might be ready for something a little more substantial than broth.”

“Oh. Great. That’s great. Thank you.” Several long, awkward moments of silence stretched out on either side of the door.

“Are you sure you don’t need any help?” Natalie asked again, obviously not liking the idea of Sarah in the tub alone.

“No, I’m good. Listen, why don’t you head home? You’ve been a big help and I really appreciate it, but I’m sure you’ve got other stuff to do besides baby-sit me.”

“It’s Sunday. I don’t really have any plans.” The uncertainty was already there, lacing her voice.

“Really,” Sarah said. “I’m good. I’m Þ ne. You go on home now.” She closed her eyes as she said it, knowing how cold and ungrateful she must sound.

“Um…” She could almost hear Natalie sifting through a mental catalog of reasons to stay, but Sarah knew she was also a highly intelligent woman. She wasn’t going to hang out where she felt like she was unwanted. “As long as you’re sure…” Her voice trailed off, leaving an obvious opening for Sarah to jump in with a change of heart.

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FINDING HOME

“I’m sure. I’ll be Þ ne.” Shame crawled across her skin over her relief at having the door between them so she couldn’t see Natalie’s face.

“You should give your mom a call.” Natalie’s tone changed so dramatically, Sarah felt as if she’d missed part of the conversation.

It was cool, removed. “She called this morning while you were still asleep. You should tell her what happened.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll leave your eggs on the tray next to the bed.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

Sarah stayed in the shower for what felt like days. It didn’t seem like it would be possible to rub herself raw with only one good hand, but she managed to do just that. Tying a small garbage bag from under the bathroom sink around her wounds, she used her good hand to scrub her skin until it was red and sore, staying in the shower until the hot water turned tepid and she was sure she must be alone in the house.

Drying her skin and dressing with one hand proved more difÞ cult than the showering, and she found ways to use her injured hand a little bit here and a little bit there. By the time she was squeaky clean, dressed, and sat down to eat her ice-cold eggs, her arm was throbbing so insistently that she glowered at the bottle of pain pills, mentally cursing them because they were probably going to win out today.

Bentley sighed as he lay on the ß oor at her feet and stared at her. His eyes seemed vaguely accusatory.

“What?” she said to him.

He continued to stare, as if to say, “You know what.” He tipped over onto his side, looking completely relaxed in the beam of sunshine on the ß oor, except for the eyes that continued to follow her.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she said. “I need to think. That’s all. I need some space to think.”

Bentley sighed and if Sarah didn’t know any better, she’d say he was emanating a deÞ nite air of being pissed off.

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GEORGIA BEERS

v

“What’s the matter with you today?” Leo Valenti asked the question grufß y, but his eyes belied his concern as he looked at Natalie. She was on her midmorning break at the little back table on Wednesday, arms stretched out on it, head pillowed on them, no smile. It was unusual for her not to be smiling and he knew it.

“You lose your best friend or something?”

Oddly enough, it sort of feels that way,
she thought, even as she sighed and answered, “No.”

“Where’s the dog? He always make you smile.”

At the mention of Bentley, Natalie felt the corners of her mouth lift just slightly. Mr. V. was right. Bentley did always make her smile. “He’s with his other mommy today.”

“How she doing? S’okay?” He gestured to his own forearm, knowing the details of Sarah’s injury from Andrea’s storytelling.

Natalie sighed again, dramatically this time. “I wouldn’t know.”

Mrs. Valenti bustled by just at that moment and she and her husband exchanged a glance. Then, much to Natalie’s surprise, she snapped her with the dish towel that was a constant Þ xture to her shoulder. “Stop it,” she commanded as she crossed to the baking rack and took a tray of cookies off it.

“What?” Natalie jumped, startled by the sound more than the sting of the towel. “Stop what?”

“How you say? Moping? Stop your moping.”

“I’m not
moping
,” Natalie said, sounding far more like a teenager than she cared to admit.

“Oh, yes. You mope.” Mrs. V. nodded, arranging the cookies onto a smaller tray suitable for the glass case out front. “You mope all day Monday. You mope all day yesterday and all day today. Is not like you. Is not good. You strong.”

“What are you talking about?” A weird sensation Þ lled her then, a little voice telling her that either she wasn’t as subtle as she thought she was or the Valentis were
way
more observant

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FINDING HOME

than she’d ever given them credit for. Mrs. Valenti continued on with the cookies while Mr. Valenti did up the dishes from the early morning baking. Neither slowed in their work as Mrs.

Valenti spoke and her husband nodded along with her.

“You wonderful girl, Natalie. We love you like our own and we know when you happy. Okay?”

“Okay.” Natalie drew the word out, trying to follow but unsure of the path.

“You always a happy girl. You never sad. You never pout.

You always nice, always smile. Yes?”

Natalie agreed.

“Since you Þ nd dog, you smile even more.”

The corners of Natalie’s mouth turned up once again, proving Mrs. Valenti’s point. “Since you Þ nd dog’s owner, you smile even bigger.”

Her grin faltered. The Valentis had hardly seen Sarah at all, just a few occasions here and there when she’d come in for coffee or to say hi or met Natalie at her apartment instead of the park.

How could they know this, even if it was true?

More importantly,
was
it true?

Mrs. Valenti stopped what she was doing, obviously seeing the ß abbergasted look on Natalie’s face. She approached her and took Natalie’s chin in a surprisingly gentle hand. “Listen to me,
bambina
. You want something, you must say. Moping? No good.

Whining? No good. Waiting? No, no good. You want? You say.

Then?” She shrugged her broad shoulders and let go of Natalie’s face. “Then you know.”

And just like that, she was done. She took her tray of cookies and headed out front just as the little bell over the door pinged sweetly, indicating a customer. Mr. Valenti was still at the huge sink, washing dishes and grinning like the cat that ate the canary.

“What are you smiling about?” she asked him affectionately.

“Who? Me? Nothing. Nothing at all.” He feigned innocence and continued to grin.

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“Has she always been so wise?” Natalie asked, quirking an eyebrow at him.