Chapter 10: Golden Dreams,
"Are we there yet?" The call from the backseat came again.
"You know we're not," Jared responded, as he had countless times in the past hour. Sarah sighed in aggravation as Ambrosius echoed her annoyance from his place in the cat carrier at her feet. Apparently, Melanie found it funny to keep asking, when she could see perfectly well herself, from the road signs, that they had just entered Virginia. It would be another half hour, at least, before they got there. They had made this trip often enough before; she knew how long it took. She also knew to bring things to quietly entertain herself.
"Shut up," Abby muttered from directly behind her mother. At seven thirty, Sarah suspected she would be putting her book down soon. The sun was lowering rapidly behind them, and the car's atmosphere was steadily becoming drearier and drearier.
Sarah had taken to leaning her forehead against the window and resting her feet on top of the cat's cage. She desperately wished Jared would let her drive; he hadn't been feeling well for about a month, yet he flatly refused to see a doctor. Come to think of it, Sarah couldn't remember him ever having gone to the doctor—or being sick, for that matter. He'd had occasional, trivial colds before, but even those failed to last longer than a day. She was worried about him, more than he realized.
"Welcome home, honey," Karen embraced her stepdaughter, almost delicately, as she stepped through the door. "Jared," She noted.
"Dad," Sarah exclaimed as her father entered the foyer. "Where's Toby?" She asked after a quick hug.
"Oh, he's taken his girlfriend out for a tour of the town. They should be back in no more than an hour, I'd imagine." Karen answered for her, releasing Abigail from a hug that looked somewhat painful to Sarah.
"His girlfriend?" She asked. She hadn't been told he was bringing someone.
"We were just as shocked, Sarah. Her name is Gaelle, and she plays his cousin in that movie he's in."
"Lovely French girl," Karen added. Obviously she approved.
"Come on, let's take your things upstairs," Robert suggested.
Sarah and Jared were staying in Sarah's old room. Karen and Robert had reluctantly allowed Toby and Gaelle to stay in Toby's bedroom, which came as quite a shock to Sarah, but there wasn't much room left in the house anyway. Abby and Melanie would be staying on the couches downstairs, as per usual, however much they disliked it.
Eventually, near ten o'clock, Toby and Gaelle, who Sarah had heard plenty about by that time, returned. The girl was positively beautiful; she made Sarah feel indefinitely old and inadequate, and her delicate accent failed to help the matter. She wasn't rude or conceited, though, and Sarah was shocked to find that she was only twenty-two, although she looked even younger. She acted mature and held an air of sophistication. She told Sarah she had been acting since she was thirteen, and after a moment of discussion, Sarah was able to recall seeing her in a few more recent movies.
Toby's full attention was focused on the girl. He had barely even greeted his sister and nieces. Sarah's feelings were slightly hurt, but she was glad he had found someone he felt so strongly for, although it was quite obviously simple lust at this point. Although, a twenty-two year old actress and a twenty-one year old actor spelled 'drama' more than 'love.'
When Karen had noticed the girls' yawns, she quickly ended the reminisce-session, sending Gaelle up to bed and requesting a word with Toby. Sarah suspected she was going to warn him of the sins of premarital sex, something even his older sister was positive he was well acquainted with. She stayed quiet; Toby's reddening face and shuffling feet were good for a chuckle or two.
Sarah and Jared followed Toby upstairs. It had been a long day. They had woken up at five, left at six, and now it was eleven, a fair bit past Sarah's usual bedtime.
The bedroom never failed to startle Sarah as she walked in. On some subconscious level, she expected it to be just as it had when she left it; floral wallpaper, vanity in one corner, bed against the far wall, her toys covering every empty space. It never was. It had been turned into a guest room, as most children's rooms are once they're abandoned. A double bed now lay against the left wall, covered with a delicate cream bedspread stitched with gold roses. The cream carpet was covered by a gold-colored rug, the draperies were made of a flimsy, golden metallic fabric, the bookshelf was painted gold, and the settee beside it was cream. In all, Karen had converted it into a rather lavish, golden room which Sarah found herself unable to appreciate.
Sarah slid off her shirt and her pants, leaving them in a heap beside the bed. She couldn't bring herself to dig through her suitcase for pajamas. She just wanted to close her eyes.
Sarah sat in the corner of a room, watching a girl crouching over a young boy. All she saw of the girl was her back, covered in a layer of soft blond hair, and her bare feet against the wooden floor.
"I'm sorry," the boy pleaded, covering his face with his dirty, scratched hands. Without a response, the girl pulled his small hands away and smacked him solidly.
The boy tried to say something else, but sobbing overtook his words. Sarah attempted to move forward, stop the girl from hurting him again, but she was frozen, watching as the girl hit him repeatedly.
Eventually she stood and went to the door. She never faced Sarah, but she could tell the girl was clean, her appearance obviously valued, whereas the boy was filthy and looked underfed.
Sarah watched in horror as he wiped at his bleeding nose and lip. His left eye was already swollen shut.
As she tried to move again, everything blurred together and changed.
The same girl stood in the doorway. The only light came from behind her, turning her into a silhouette.
"I'm sorry, Mommy," the boy's pleading voice came from against the wall, roughly where he had been before.
Saying nothing, the girl crossed the room and knelt down. Sarah heard the smack of her hand on soft flesh.
"You are not to call me that when we have company!" Her voice was familiar, slightly accented….
"I'm s-s-sorry! I… I d-didn't know." The boy stammered over his tears. The girl, apparently his mother, despite her obvious young age, stood. In the doorway she glanced back.
"Just shut up," she hissed, pulling the door closed behind her. Sarah heard the child's muffled sobs.
Again, everything bled together and changed. This time, Sarah found herself in a different room.
She still stood in a corner, but this room was larger; an old but clean kitchen area was behind her, she knew without looking. Before her sat a scratched, wobbly table and four equally scuffed chairs. Beyond that, a rocking chair and a simple plaid sofa with threadbare cushions.
She recognized the same girl at the table. She faced away from her. Across the table was a woman, her graying blonde hair pulled tightly into a bun. Her deeply lined face looked sorrowful and a certain zest was missing from her eyes.
"You promise me you'll take care of your brothers and sisters. Promise me." Her tone was desperately pleading.
"Of course, Mère," the girl responded, sounding distraught. A delicate, pale hand lifted from her lap to her face, and returned.
"Promise me, please," the woman, obviously this girl's mother, stared across the table, tears running freely down her cheeks.
"I promise," the girl managed.
"I'm so sorry, Gaelle. I'm so sorry this has befallen you. You deserve much better, my daughter." Her hands reached over the rough and pitted wood, met halfway by the girl's.
Gaelle, Sarah thought. So familiar…. She struggled to recall where she had heard the name.
Once more, the blending and changing….
Sarah now stood in the far corner of the same room, watching the couch, on which sat four children. The older girl, Gaelle, stood before them.
"Where's Mère?" A little girl with short blonde hair asked.
"Our Mère is dead." The girl announced indifferently. The children froze, their faces a mix of disbelief and sorrow.
"What will we do?" The older boy asked cautiously. His arm tightened around the shoulders of a smaller boy.
"I'll be taking care of you."
Again, everything twisted and blurred and was gone.
This time, the girl sat in a different room, a tiny room. Three beds and one old, painted dresser with one missing drawer were the only furniture.
A younger Gaelle sat on the furthest bed, sobbing into her hands. Her round stomach indicated pregnancy, despite her youth; she looked no more than thirteen.
Eventually, her sobbing picked up and she began to hiccup. This just seemed to increase her distress.
It blurred and was gone.
Sarah woke up cold. The air was damp and chilly, tangible, a quality only found in the early morning. Confused, she glanced around the room.
The window was open.
Sarah sat up and pulled her knees to her chest. She scanned the room completely, wishing she could shut the window, but too afraid to move. The tree outside the window—someone must have climbed it!
She leaned forward, scanning the floor for glass. None. The window hadn't been broken and opened. Did they open from the outside? She glanced over at Jared. He was sound asleep.
Cautiously, Sarah leaned down to peer beneath the bed. Nobody appeared to be hiding there, and since that was the only halfway-decent hiding spot, due to her former bedroom's regrettable lack of a closet, she deemed the room safe.
With an ungraceful hop and an equally awkward dash, she made it to the window.
She found a single white feather resting on the sill.