Chapter Seven
3 Months later
With Regards to Tony Bennett
She breathes in air flavored by warm saltwater, and basks in the moist radiance of the sun. The faux glow of neon that is Las Vegas far behind her; and she realizes how much she's missed the smell of the ocean.
The wind comes through the open car window, blowing her hair into her face. She pulls it back, fruitlessly tucking it behind her ear. Sara leans on her elbow, propped up in the open window, the other hand casually holding the wheel. She'd thought she'd be more nervous, the tension growing as the hours and miles ticked away, but she's surprised to find none.
The radio station fades, uttering a few dying crackles as she pulls farther out of it's signal. Sara reaches down and pushes a button, sending the radio out on a pursuit for a stronger signal. It stops after a moment, and a country crooner is singing to her about traveling the open roads. Appropriate, she thinks to herself. And after another moments thought, she thinks, very appropriate. The wind blows her hair in her face again.
She follows the signs, pulling off the freeway on to the city streets. Needlessly, double-checking the map lying unfolded and flapping in the seat next to her; she knows her way there. She's been mentally driving this route since Nick's memorial service, when she watched his mother's devastated stillness. Sara is, after all, only human, and she wondered if it had been her sent on that trash call, if her own mother would have responded the same, having lost the daughter she lost so long ago. Sara's heart aches with so many memories, so many 'what ifs', she puts a hand to her chest, as if trying to keep her own heart from breaking in to pieces.
A red light stops her, and she takes the moment to look around at her surroundings, puzzled, by the subtly of the city, so used to abundance, that for a brief moment, she's mystified by its absence. Reminding herself of where she is, Sara laughs quietly. The light changes, and she's once again on her way to her destination.
Another half an hour and several more miles tick away, and then, there is it, looming over her. She pulls to a curb half a block down, to breathe deep, reassure herself. She closes her eyes, recalling a comforting, strengthening image, and can feel Nick smiling at her. Another song on the radio, she realizes the country station is still playing. This singer warbles something about a waitress hitting it big in Vegas. How many country songs, she wonders aloud, mention Las Vegas? She takes the mentioning of her adopted hometown as some kind of sign, and pulls back out into traffic.
She leans out of the car window giving the guard at the gate her name, then her mother's name. As he checks his clipboard, Sara's eyes glance up at the gate standing over her, it isn't as tall as she remembers; and the clanging noise it makes as it opens isn't as loud. That noise used to signal the beginning of a very long hour for Sara, now it signals what she hopes will be the beginning of a very long reunion.