I woke up screaming again tonight. It's been this way ever since the strike. Les didn't stir, never one to be interrupted by the discomfort of others, but David was there. He asked me again what was bothering me, but I couldn't tell him. To fear something like time is not something that David would ever be able to understand.
David didn't push any further, as I bit my lip in the hope of holding back any nervous tendencies. I could still see how anxious he looked as he returned to the bed that he and Les shared. I prayed that Mama and Papa hadn't woken up, because Mama's distress had risen in the past few days as Papa had put on the façade that everything would return to normal.
As soon as I was sure that they were still asleep and I heard David's slow rhythmic breathing, I stepped into my boots. I exited through the fire escape, hoping that the cool air would give a sort of holy relief to my endless worry. I recounted my dream back again.
There we were at the station. Our whole family: Mama, Papa, Les, David, Me and…Jack. But Jack didn't stand next to us as a family. In his hand he had carried a small bag filled with all his worldly possessions. His cowboy hat was precariously on his head, not seeming to fit quite right. The train whistle blew as it rolled into the station, turning Jack's head toward the future he thought that he wanted. Then he hesitatingly turned back to us, his waiting family. Jack's actions all represent goodbyes of some sort as he turned to each member of my family. But never me. He turned away after David. I screamed for him but Jack never looked back once. I tried running toward him, pulling on his arm but I could never touch him. Dreams of Sante Fe had left him untouchable.
After the strike, time had seemed to pass so quickly, too quickly. Jack and I spent every possible moment together after he sold all of his papers. Sometimes I would tag along with him, David, and Les, though I knew that he probably needed some "guy-time" and that David didn't want his sister around him all the time.
But even then, I saw how Jack's eyes longed for something else. I thought that we had given him a family, but maybe that's not what he craved. He didn't like staying the night with us and leaving his friends. On particularly sunny days his eyes seemed to brighten. "That, Sarah," he would point at the sun, "That is what Santa Fe is all about."
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