Sarah
“Hey, Sarah, wait. Wait up a second, will ya’?” Oliver jogged after Sarah from his truck to the front of her house. He kicked up the dry dirt behind him, creating a cloud of tan dust. Despite his athletic build, he ran jerkily and ungracefully, his arms flailing a bit.
“I’m sorry, Ol,” she said. “I suppose I’m not very good at all of this.” For a moment she stared down at her feet and then back up at Oliver. Her blue shoes seemed to blend in with the cement, as if she had melted and become a part of it.
“What? Good at what? No, you’re fine. Really.” He looked at her encouragingly. “Really,” he repeatd.
“I don’t know, Oliver. Maybe we ought not to see each other again.” Sarah leaned back onto the wall of her porch, placing her palms flat on the surface. “You know? I just feel like. . . .”
“Naw, Sarah. You’re just a little shy is all. It’s no problem. Look, I had a lot of fun tonight, alright? And I want to do it again. Besides, I was shy once. I suppose most people are at some point. You just grow out of it is all. But the only way to do that is keep trying, putting yourself out there. Make sense?” He leaned toward her while he spoke, attempting to engage her in some sort of response.
“Do what exactly?”
“Sorry, what?”
“You said you wanted to do ‘it’ again. What is it?” She slid her eyes to his, waiting for an answer.
“Oh, I don’t know. Carnival’s supposed to be coming to Portland next week,” he said. “Thought we could go there for a day. Show you off a little. Or we could do a movie. The beach. Whatever you’d like.”
Then she wrapped her arms around her stomach. “This isn’t me,” she said. Sarah let her neck bend, gazing down at the cement floor of the porch.
Oliver knew she was referring to the outfit. “Oh, I don’t mean like that. I just mean. . .you know, on my arm or whatever. My girl. Make sure everyone knows, I guess. I’d like to go steady, you know?”
“Maybe, I don’t know,” she said, wrapping her arms around herself.
“Well, I’ll call you in a few days or tomorrow or something and you can let me know what you’ve decided. No pressure, alright?”
Sarah nodded, hanging her head some and sighing.
“What’s wrong, Sarah? What’s the matter? I want to help, you know. I mean, you don’t have to tell me if you really don’t want to, but I just want to help. Really.”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Just. . .feel like a mess, I think.”
“You think?” he asked.
“I don’t know, it’s hard to tell. I guess it’s just one of those things you have to experience yourself to really understand. Does that make sense?”
Oliver stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Well, no, but I guess I can accept it.”
Sarah sighed. “No, see. . .you don’t understand. I don’t suppose you really could. I think I ought to go inside now. My parents. . . . And my sister has school tomorrow so I can’t wake her up.” She glanced inside, apparently trying to find a clock. “It’s only ten, now. Hopefully she won’t be asleep yet.”
“You sure, Sar? I’ll listen, if you want me to. Long as you need, too.”
“Yeah,” she said, smoothing her skirt down. “I’m sure.” Then she turned to him, but kept her head down for a moment. She grasped his hands in hers. “Thanks, Ol,” she said. Sarah placed her hand on his shoulder for a moment and looked him in the eye. Then she sighed and dropped her hand to her side.
“Well, sure, but what for?”
The sound of the crickets in the yard filled the silence. Still, Oliver found himself shifting his weight slightly while he watched Sarah.
Sarah looked up at him and gave him a slight smile. “Just thanks.”
“Oh. Alright, then. I’ll call you tomorrow, yeah?”
“Sure, sure. I’ll be here.”
“Sarah? Oh, hello, Oliver.” A round woman appeared at the doorway, wiping her hands on a rag and sniffling some. She looked Oliver up and down once.
“Hello Mrs. Larkin. I hope you don’t mind me keeping Sarah out so late. Lost track of time, I guess. She’s a sweet girl.”
“Yes,” Mrs. Larkin agreed. “She’s very special, my Sarah. Not too late at all. You should have stayed out later – ‘til two, even! Why, when I was Sarah’s age, I’d be out until dawn half the week. Never did get much sleep in my younger years. You see I’m paying for it now, but,” she leaned closer, as if giving away a big life secret, “I think it was quite worth it.”
Oliver nodded.
“I’m glad she has found some company in you, though,” she said. “Always moping about the house this one.” Mrs. Larkin gestured to Sarah with her thumb.
“Dear, dear Sarah? She couldn’t!” A tone of subtle defense entered his voice.
“Oh, this girl could cry to match Noah’s flood! Anyway, I best be off. Bit more cleaning up to do in the kitchen. G’night, Oliver.”
“’Night, Mrs. Larkin.”
Mrs. Larkin waddled into the house again, still wringing her hands in her rag. She made a turn to the left and then was out of sight.
Sarah hid her face in her hands for a moment, breathing deeply. “God, I hate her.”
“I’m sorry,” Oliver offered. He held out a hand apologetically. “If I thought my Mom’d be okay with it, I’d offer you a bed at my place.”
“I’m alright,” she said. Again, Sarah smiled strangely.
“So I’ll call you tomorrow then?” he asked, grasping her hand now.
“Yes.”
“Great.” Oliver leaned forward and kissed her cheek. Sarah’s eyes were squeezed shut tight when he pulled away. She nodded, as if she had just understood something completely, something she had been trying to figure out for a long time.
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