He let out a long significant sigh. “You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?”
“Please, Scott.”
“It means that much to you? Even after what just happened?”
“Yes.”
He slowed the truck and did a U-turn so that they were heading back toward the spot, that forever more Sarah knew she’d think of with shuddering fear, as
the
spot.
“So why can’t your parents work? Are they retired?”
She laughed dryly. “I guess that’s one way of describing it.”
“Then what?”
“My mom has problems. Pretty significant problems.”
“Problems? Like handicapped?”
“Like mental problems. The least of which she’s agoraphobic. She hasn’t left their house in more than fifteen years.”
Scott blinked. “Do you mean literally?”
“Yes, I mean literally.”
“Why?”
“She was kidnapped from a parking lot sixteen years ago. She was kept for three days in a basement, tortured, raped, things you can’t even imagine. She was dumped back in the same parking lot, nearly comatose, dehydrated, battered and bruised. Needless to say, she never recovered.”
Scott’s mouth dropped open.
“So, I can’t tell them I’m being harassed, and that I thought someone was about to kidnap me. I can’t. She can’t take it. She can’t work, she can hardly be a mother. She doesn’t eat, she doesn’t sleep. She doesn’t have a life.”
“And your dad?” Scott asked his tone gentle.
“My dad stays with her. He didn’t really recover either. He raises my brother. But he’s also twelve years older than my mother, so he’s in his sixties, and not in the best of health. When I graduated college, they used what money they had to buy the space downtown, and start the shop. All with the agreement, I’d run it, I’d support our family. I’ve succeeded up until now. I can’t, however, come home with this.”
“I’m…speechless. I had no idea.”
“Don’t say anything. Just please don’t tell anyone. I can’t take people gossiping about my mom. She can’t help it, and maybe none of us would be any better off than she is. But they rely on me for everything they can’t accomplish within the confines of their house, or off the Internet.”
Scott was silent for few moments. “And your brother?”
“I think you can probably guess why he’s ten years younger than me.”
“
My God.”
“So you see, I must show up tonight as usual, so everything appears normal with me.”
“Okay. I guess I get it.”
“And…you should probably pretend to be my boyfriend.”
He frowned. “Why?”
“I don’t bring anyone home, ever. So it will seem odd. But if you’re my boyfriend, they’ll just be glad you’re there. That’s why you’ll pretend you’re into me.”
“Pretend? Yeah, that’ll be hard.”
“Pretend I’m nineteen and named Mindy,” she said annoyed.
“Don’t get bitchy. And Mindy was twenty-one. Why don’t you bring anyone home?”
“They only knew John Tyler because he came out to the house for mom as her doctor, still does. That’s how I met him. I talked him into doing home visits for mom because she wouldn’t go into the doctor’s office. John’s always kept my confidences about them.”
“I underestimated you. I’m sorry.”
She glanced at him. “Thank you for that. Turn up ahead on the right.”
He pulled into the single story box-like house Sarah had grown up in. It was in sad need of a paint job, a roof that sprouted thick moss, and a yard in dire need of a good landscaper.
“By the way, don’t be too surprised at mom. She’s very thin.”
Scott turned his head, staring at her. She kept her gaze down.
****
Scott followed Sarah into her parents’ home. His gaze traveled quickly around the small house. It was thread worn, and kind of smelled of closed-up old people. The furnishings were from the eighties, in teals and mauve, nothing had been updated or changed in two decades. It seemed the antithesis of Sarah’s trim navy blue suit that was pressed and perfect, even after all she’d come through. She’d taken a few moments to wipe away the make-up her uncharacteristic tears had spread, and brush her hair. If he’d spent a few moments too long watching her very feminine primping, he chalked it up to fascination in a woman who wasn’t for a moment who she appeared to be. She wanted people believing she was shallow. That way they underestimated her. Just as he’d done.
Scott was reeling still from his sudden jump into Sarah’s situation, both the earlier fear, and now at her parents’ home, with an entire history Scott had no notion of.
“Sarah? Is that you?”
“Yes, Mom.”
“Come on, we’re just finishing making dinner.” Scott followed Sarah as she led him through the house to the kitchen, where a very normal sounding mother’s voice had come from. That, however, is where normal quit applying to Sarah’s family.
Scott kept his mouth shut, only because Sarah had warned him. Her mother was shocking. She was standing at the kitchen stirring a pot. She was so thin, she was painful to look at. She was Sarah’s height, and couldn’t weigh ninety pounds. She reminded Scott of pictures he’d seen of Holocaust survivors. It was so shocking, so wrong a comparison to be making about a woman living in the modern day United States that he was struck speechless. Her mother’s hair was thin and strange colored. Her skin was sickly looking, taut over her bones. Her hands and head seemed huge in comparison to the rest of her.
“Mom, I’d like you to meet someone,” Sarah said, her tone gentle. Her mother turned and noticed Scott. Sarah’s mother’s man-looking hands flew to her hair in a purely feminine gesture that didn’t jibe with her nearly grotesquely non-womanly looks.
“Mom, this is Scott Delano. A friend of mine. Scott, this is my mother, Tina.”
“Hello, Mrs. Langston,” Scott said, looking Tina in the eye so as not to look like he was as shocked by her appearance as he was.
“Please, call me Tina. Hello, Scott. We’re so glad you could join us. That’s Sarah’s dad, Denny.” Scott glanced over at the breakfast bar where an elderly, stooped man sat. He got up and came over shaking Scott’s hand, with similar hellos. The Langstons seemed genuinely glad he was there. He glanced at Sarah whose eyes said thank you. She seemed pleased with his dealings with her parents thus far.
Sarah fell into dinner preparation with her family. She got out place settings, finished setting up the formal dining room table, all the while chatting to her parents about the shop. They asked Scott the usual questions about where he worked, and lived. Nothing too personal, but he could tell they seemed glad he was there with Sarah. Sarah’s hands shook as she set silverware out. She was still in near shock, yet valiantly hiding it from her parents.
Scott’s entire range of thoughts felt off kilter. Sarah’s parents, their tragic past, Sarah’s tragic past were a blow to him, and what he knew of her. Sarah’s ability to act so carefree, nearly happy just then, even though Scott knew she was still terrified said a lot about her. She was a good actress. She was good at hiding her feelings, her thoughts, and her life. She was kind and protective of her parents, who put all their hopes and dreams on Sarah’s slim shoulders.
How had he not realized what kind of woman she was? He had accused her of not getting Vanessa’s responsibilities, when, in fact, it was he who didn’t have a notion of Sarah’s responsibilities. Why she so adamantly would not leave Seaclusion. It was for them. Her parents. Her broken, agoraphobic parents who she obviously loved and protected with her every last thought and action toward them. Apparently, that protection went to the level of near obsession. At what cost did Sarah protect them? Scott wondered as he watched her.
The front door opened and a tall, gangly youth came through. It must be Sarah’s brother. Sarah’s brother who was most likely a living reminder of Tina’s life stopping, violent history. The teen was on the brink of being handsome, his face was too thin, his limbs too long and clumsy as he was on the cusp of manhood. He would be, however, a boy version of Sarah’s beauty.
“Hey, Sarah.”
“Hey, Sean, I’d like you to meet Scott Delano. Scott, my brother Sean.”
Scott stepped forward to shake the youth’s hand. Sean suddenly stood up straighter and wouldn’t meet Scott’s eyes as he said, “Hey,” and barely shook Scott’s hand. What was his reaction about?
Dinner was ready. They all sat down. He sat next to Sarah with an elegant spread of food before them. There was a lace covered table cloth, fine white china, and matching crystal serving dishes for the grilled chicken, green salad and potatoes. There was no gravy, little butter, hardly anything of any kind of fat. It reminded Scott of a dieter’s meal. Each of the Langstons were thin, both parents nearly painfully. Scott glanced at Sarah and saw her more and more clearly. The family said grace. They started serving with overly formal manners. Making sure all the food was passed around in the right order before anyone started eating. He now knew why Sarah had a hard time relaxing, letting go, and having normal, everyday fun. Why she so seemed to hate eating in front of him. Why eating in general seemed such a deal with her. Simply put, it was.
Her parents didn’t seem to know the meaning of the word relaxed. Their demeanor was very proper, formal, bordering on uncomfortable. They asked the most generic of questions, smiled little, and laughed even less.
There in that house, Sarah’s figure looked nearly lush. Her smile, real and genuine. She was quick to smile, and it lit up her eyes. Something none of her family had. They were very stern, nearly off putting in their grimness. Sarah seemed downright lively, a comedian compared to them. Even Sean.
Sean kept glancing at Scott over his plate. What was the kid’s problem? Sean seemed nearly afraid of him. He didn’t know what to make of him. Or any of them.
The entire family ate little. Tina ate nothing more than a few leaves of lettuce and a handful of nuts. Scott ate larger helpings than he usually would have and still felt as if he was taking half of the portions of food. They didn’t seem to get dinner was for eating. Not picking. And even though he took as much food as he could he was starving still.
Finally, dinner ended. Scott nearly asked why they bothered with these family dinners. The Langstons took the complete joy out of eating food.
Sarah wrung her hands in her lap under the table cloth as her mother was in the process of clearing dishes from the table. Scott covered Sarah’s hands with his own. She looked up, startled at the contact, the squeeze of support he gave her. There was no kind of physical warmth from this family, and Scott would bet they rarely touched. No wonder it was all a big deal to Sarah. Why she found his easy-going relations with strange women so repulsive. He touched. And liked it. She didn’t even get a pat from her parents. Therefore, she was uncomfortable with almost any casual contact. She didn’t get why anyone would do it.
She did, however, open her hand so her palm was up, so he could grasp her hand easier. Was this Sarah relenting? She didn’t look at him, didn’t turn her head toward him, almost as if she was embarrassed to acknowledge their contact. She acted as if he was grabbing her crotch in inappropriate foreplay, not gently squeezing her hand in silent support. Sarah’s face looked pale and tense in her effort to hide the strain this evening was causing her, and the terror that awaited her to deal with later.
His heart swelled for her, her sweetness, her strength, her total denial of herself. He wanted to wrap her in his arms again. She’d felt good next to him. Better than any woman he could remember holding.
Yet, he’d known it would feel that way for a long time, that’s why he so consciously, solicitously, nearly obsessively made sure he didn’t touch her.
There was no dessert. There was coffee, and tea for Sarah. They talked of the shop, of Sean’s classes, of stories from the news. Nothing of a personal nature. Nothing natural. Sarah discreetly pushed Scott’s hand away when her family was back sitting at the table. There was no displaying affection or emotions for this family.
Sarah claimed a busy day. She needed to get home. Her parents walked them to the door. Her father shook Scott’s hand sternly, her mother smiled kindly, with a,
please come again
, and Sean waved from the couch still looking as if he were cowering from Scott.
Finally, it was over. Scott let out a long breath after her parents shut the door. Sarah was quiet as she walked toward his truck. The driveway was in shadows, the drapes over the Langston’s living room shut tight. He stopped Sarah just in front of the passenger door. He brought her against him, she didn’t expect the embrace. She went rigid against him, and then slowly she let out a breath and seemed to fall into him. Fall against him. She was thin, and delicate feeling. Her back bony and fragile and he felt an overwhelming urge to protect her, hold her, and take care of her. This made him nervous. It made him nearly push her away to stop these overpowering feelings that holding her felt
so right
.
He opened the passenger door, and gently deposited her against Cookie who sat happily waiting for them. He noticed her grab at the dog. He smiled into the dark. The dog didn’t fit the designer suit. But she didn’t seem to care. She tugged Cookie across her lap. Cookie, Scott now realized, was the one thing in the world Sarah touched freely, willingly, easily, almost compulsively. He wondered if he wasn’t a bit jealous of his own dog.
Scott didn’t say much as he started back toward town. It was dark out where the Langstons lived. Lots of trees, with only a few groups of houses, tucked off the highway here and there.
“I told you I wasn’t anorexic.”
Scott shifted his eyes to Sarah. Her tone was nearly impassioned.
“I never said you were.”
“You didn’t have to say it. You imply it every time you want me to eat. When I told you I was careful, I meant it.”
He waited a heartbeat and said gently, “You meant you were careful to eat, careful to not be anorexic.”
She nodded. “Yes. I’m careful to eat.”
“How long has your mom been like that?”
She crossed her arms over Cookie’s head, close to her chest. “Always. She obviously didn’t do a good job of not passing it along to me, to Sean. She got that way, that bad, after she had Sean.”