Sara could remember it as plain as day, and she retold every detail to Jesse and Becky, who listened patiently, and never interrupted once.
It was a bright Wednesday morning in San Francisco and 9-year-old Sara Stevenson dressed in her denim overalls and a bright pink T-shirt, and went into the kitchen to make herself breakfast. Her mom never made her breakfast, since they always got up an hour earlier than she did, and wouldn't make a second breakfast.
"You're old enough to make your own breakfast." Her mother would snap at her if Sara ever questioned her.
So Sara popped herself some toast that morning with a smile. She felt excited, because today was report card day, and Sara knew she was going to get A's, since she had worked so hard. Maybe mommy and daddy will be proud of me if I get straight A's. Sara longed for her parents' approval, desperate for them to pay even a little bit of attention to her. She loved them so much, and wished they would feel the same way about her. I just have to try harder. She'd think to herself. I have to make them happy, and then they'll love me.
So it became a mission for Sara. She would draw pictures, make crafts, clean the house, stay out of their way, anything she could possibly think of to make them happy, but nothing seemed to work. She still ended up tucking herself in at night, reading herself bedtime stories, making herself breakfast and spending all of her time contemplating new ways to make her parents proud, and love her.
If they see I get straight A's on my report card, they'll have to say something. Maybe they'll tell me I'm smart, and they'll be proud of me. Sara wished so hard as she devoured her breakfast and gathered her school things.
"Bye mommy, bye daddy." She called into the living room, where they sat watching their morning talk shows. As usual, they didn't look up or acknowledge Sara was even in the same house. Sara sighed and left, but felt hopeful as she walked to school. After today, things will be different. They love me, I know they do, and they'll show me. Sara was too young to understand why things were the way they were. She couldn't understand why her parents looked through her as if she didn't exist. She couldn't understand why the only contact she had with her mother was when Sara made a mistake in her mission, and would get hit or slammed into a wall. She couldn't understand why the only time her father touched her was once when her mother was out, and they were alone in his dark bedroom. She couldn't understand why her parents were always angry, or upset. She couldn't understand why after her daddy and mommy fought, her mother would slice her wrists open, something Sara had only walked in on once. She had been punished for that too.
Sara waited anxiously as the end of the day drew nearer and nearer, as she watched the clock on her classroom wall. She patiently watched as her teacher finally got up and started handing out the manila envelopes, holding the report cards. Sara waited, as her teacher ran through the list alphabetically. Finally, her teacher handed her an envelope with a label on it that read, "Stevenson, Sara." On the envelope was a smiley face sticker, a sign that Sara knew meant a good report.
The bell rang and Sara ran out of her classroom with her backpack and when she was out in the schoolyard, she couldn't wait. She pulled out the fresh piece of paper that had her grades marked down the side. She smiled widely as the paper confirmed what she already knew. Straight A's in every subject. Sara was absolutely glowing. Finally, mommy and daddy will have to be happy to see this.
Sara ran the whole three blocks home and ran through her front door, yelling excitedly.
"Mommy, daddy! Come see my report card!" She screamed out, with a huge smile on her face. It faded quickly when she observed the surroundings. At first, the young girl thought she had run into the wrong house, as she stared at the empty room, stripped of all furnishing.
"Mommy?" She called out, as she peered into the living room and saw the couches, TV, and her dad's favorite reclining chair were all gone.
"Daddy?" She called out, peeking into the kitchen, where the refrigerator had disappeared, and all the cupboards were open, exposing their empty contents. She could only come to one conclusion. We've been robbed. She thought, feeling frightened that she was alone in a house that might have a bad guy in it.
She jumped when she heard a knock on the door. Sara hesitantly opened the door to find her next-door neighbor, Lynn on the other side. She was an older woman of about 40, who lived alone, and often came to chat with the Stevenson's. Sara liked her; she was so chipper and sweet, something she longed her parents would be.
"Hi kiddo, are your parents home? I wondered if I could borrow a cup of sugar." Lynn said in her usual cheerful tone. Sara shook her head quickly, still shaking from fear.
"You can't borrow sugar; we have no food. I think we were robbed." Sara said fearfully, as Lynn puckered her brow. She took Sara's hand and let herself inside, surveying the scene for herself. She looked into the living room, into the kitchen and even upstairs. The only thing left in the house was a small suitcase that held a few of Sara's clothes, and a piece of paper attached to the suitcase. Lynn picked it up, and frowned as she read the note. Sara looked up at her with innocent eyes, and Lynn felt herself misting up.
"Honey, why don't you come over to my house okay? I have to make a phone call." Lynn took Sara's hand and Sara went over to Lynn's house quietly, her report card now forgotten on the floor.
The next thing Sara could remember, a police car had shown up at Lynn's house and Sara thought the police officer was there to arrest the burglar, but inside, the young police officer, who she introduced herself as Officer Maria came in to talk to Sara. Sara feared they would blame her for the robbery, but Officer Maria was nice to her, bending down to talk to her.
"Sara, I need you to come with me, okay?" She offered her hand out, and Sara looked up to Lynn for assurance, but Lynn just gave her a big kiss, and told her to go with the nice police officer. Sara went reluctantly, wondering where her mommy and daddy had gone. Officer Maria was carrying the small suitcase that was left in Sara's bedroom, and she held the small note in her hand. Sara would never find out what that note said, but over the years, she would be able to figure it out, for three days later, after Officer Maria had dropped Sara off at a young children's home, a social worker named Jackie had talked to Sara about what happened.
"Honey, there wasn't a robbery like you thought. Your mommy and daddy left. We don't know why, but you'll be taken care of, don't worry. Everything will be okay." Jackie had told her. Sara had immediately begun to blame herself, a habit that would stay with her for years to come. I should have been a better little girl. I was bad, that's why they didn't love me. If I had been a better girl, they would have stayed, they would have loved me. From that day forward, she never talked about her parents again. She only remembered them in anger, and over the years, would come to a conclusion that parents everywhere were like that. It was a feeling that would stay with her until one late night, four years later,under a tree…