All the world's a stage,
And the men and women merely players:
They have their exists and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
Its acts being seven stages…
Act Three
The curtains draw on a girl sitting at a desk. She is in a library, in a high school. Theroom is empty apart from her and a book. She is eating a sandwich slowly whilst concentrating on reading. She has thick brown hair, straight apart from a kink at shoulder length. She unconsciously twirls it around one finger, from the hand which is not holding her sandwich. She looks about fourteen. A bell rings and she packs up her book and sandwich into a bag. She leaves the library. Two girls are walking down the corridor. They point at Sara as she leaves and giggle quietly. She ignores them and continues walking. There is no depth in her eyes. No recognition of her surroundings, no acknowledgment of the laughing girls. She is beautiful in a can't-quite-put-your-finger-on-it kind of way yet there is a haunting loneliness about her. She walks through a set of double doors, not bothering to hold them open for the girls behind her. They swing shut and she disappears from sight.
IIII
The girl is sitting at the kitchen table with her book open once again. The phone rings. She ignores it. A boy maybe two years older than her runs in and picks it up.
"Hello?" he answers, then hangs up. "They've already gone. Thanks a lot, Sara."
"It's never for me."
"That doesn't mean you can't answer it."
Sara shrugs. The boy looks annoyed. He grabs Sara's book from under her nose. "What you reading now?" Sara doesn't reply. "Say sorry and I'll give it back." Sara gets up and walks out, making no effort whatsoever to retrieve her book.
IIII
Sara is sitting in a lesson. The two seats either side of her are unoccupied. She doesn't seem to mind. She has spread her books out. A teacher stands at the front of the classroom, writing physics notes on the board. The others in the class are chatting quietly amongst themselves, not paying any attention. The teacher turns around, looking exasperated. Then she catches sight of Sara. Her eyes are glowing with true fascination and she is carefully copying the notes from the board. The teacher smiles slightly and continues writing notes.
A piece of screwed up paper flies through the air from someone at the back of the classroom. It hits Sara straight on the back of the head. The whole class bursts out laughing, except Sara. The teacher looks angry now.
"Calm down! I mean it – be quiet or I'll call the principal." The laughter subsides until the classroom once again is only filled with a low level of chat. Sara keeps working.
IIII
Sara is lying on her bed gazing at a photograph in her hand. It is rat-eared and faded, yet she clutches it as though her life depends on it. In fact it is her life. That one picture contains the only link Sara has to her past; the only proof she has that the fading memories she has of her old Mum and Dad are not just a dream. Her family does not know she still has it. They never told her to forget her old life, but they never encouraged her to remember it. Sara hears approaching footsteps. She quickly, but carefully, places the photograph under her pillow. A knock sounds on her door.
"Come in."
Her Mum pokes her head around the door.
"Are you alright, sweetheart?"
"Fine, thanks."
"You don't want to join your Dad and I? We're going to watch a film."
"No thanks, Mum."
"You can go out if you like. As long as you're back by midnight."
"No thanks, Mum."
Her mother looks concerned but resigned.
"Ok. If you change your mind-"
"Night, Mum."
"Night."
As the door closes, Sara pulls out the photograph again.
IIII
Another birthday cake. Funny, Sara thinks, how not just her age, but her life, seems to be measured entirely by birthday cakes. So many memories, albeit faded ones, centred around her birthday; cakes on the floor, cakes making her ill, every now and then a cake not causing problems. This time she is sixteen.
"Happy Birthday to you,
Squashed tomatoes and stew
Bread and butter in the gutter
Happy Birthday to you"
Sara smiles gently as Mum chides her brother for his take on the traditional song. A scene of domestic life, yet Sara still feels she has never truly experienced family. Something has always been missing. She loves her family but there is something not quite right; like a part of her soul is not there. It is left behind, in a past long since buried and forgotten by everyone but Sara. And her mother, she supposes. She wonders about her mother a lot. She tries not to dwell on it. But it is hard. And it's not as if she has much else to think about.
IIII
Sara is surrounded by fellow students. Everyone is hugging one another, elated. Sara is hugging no one. She sits herself down in a corner. She is pleased to be amongst the high school graduation celebrations, but mainly because it means she will never have to be back here. A woman standing on the other side of the room catches her eye. Sara suddenly feels a wave of sadness, her first regret to be leaving school at last. She stands up and makes her way over to the woman.
"Bye, Sara."
"Bye."
"You'll go far."
Sara begins to blush slightly. She never was entirely comfortable with praise. Maybe because she never used to get that much.
"I mean it. Good Luck."
"Thank you."
The woman takes Sara into her arms and they embrace briefly. For a moment Sara wishes she could stay at school. Then two girls behind her point and giggle at the sight of the tall, slightly lanky girl embracing her teacher. The wish fades in a second.
IIII
"Call us when you get there."
"Of course."
"We'll miss you." Sara's Mum takes her in her arms and tears begin to run down her cheeks. Sara attempts to conjure some emotion; it hurts her to feel so little. Yet somehow for the whole ten years she has been here she has always felt like a temporary guest. She loves her family. But she is glad to be leaving. The past eighteen years have been merely a step; a necessary evil on the path to her future. In her life she has had new schools, new homes, new parents, a new brother… Now it is truly time for a new Sara.
"Bye."
IIII
A sign comes into view. 'Harvard University', it reads. Pushing her brown hair back from her face, a girl's heart lifts. She stares out of the coach window.
"It's a beautiful area, isn't it?" The brunette nods in agreement with the girl sitting next to her. "I'm Katie Henshaw."
"Sara Sidle."
"Nice to meet you."
"You too.
IIII
"So, what are you interested in?"
"Um…Physics."
"Ah. So you're majoring in physics, are you?"
"Yes."
"Interesting."
"How about you?"
"English."
"Really?"
"Yes."
The conversation grinds to a halt. Some date, Sara thinks. But at least she's trying.
IIII
"He didn't?"
"I know! Just like that!"
"Oh my God, Sara, I can't believe it!"
"I know! And he said to me, 'I know you'll go and tell Katie all of this now.'"
The girls burst into a fit of giggles. Sara honestly believes in that moment that she has never been this happy. It is superficial in so many ways, but nothing can ever make her feel more joyful than she is right now. She has a friend; they have something to talk about and share; she is surrounded by intelligent young people who do not judge her by her past. She has not a worry in the world.
Sara wishes that nothing will ever, ever change.
IIII
Sara is sitting up in bed, a look of panic on her face. Her dreams are getting more vivid. She can feel her heart racing. She can hear sounds yet she cannot make out what they are. She can see lights, but not where they are leading. A feeling of panic grips her. She breathes deeply for a few minutes. Eventually she lays her head back down on the pillow. But she cannot close her eyes. She does not sleep.
IIII
It is 2am in the morning and Sara is sorting through a pile of work. Tonight she cannot lie awake. The frustration caused by the non-moving clock drives her crazy.
She is making arrangements for her departure. She cannot stay. She needs control; she dare not think of what may happen should she loosen the firm grip she is maintaining on her life. She is scared that the time will come when she has nothing to do but leave; she needs to get out while it is still her own choice. She tells herself that she misses the West Coast, her home. But truthfully she has nowhere to call home; certainly no where better than Harvard. It is far more complicated than that, but Sara will not admit it.
She picks up a pen and begins to write a letter. 'Dear Mum', it begins. But this is not her new Mum. They barely speak on the phone once a month anymore. Sara wants to regret this, but the truth is it does not bother her. This letter is to a woman whom Sara can only reach through her mind. She tells her everything that has happened in the last few days; since her last letter. She is gripped by a feeling of abandonment and desperation. In a fit of tears she screws up the letter and throws it in the bin.
She climbs back into bed. She leaves the light on. She screws her eyes shut. She does not sleep.
IIII
The day that Sara leaves Harvard is a strong competitor in the competition for the worst day of Sara's life. She smiles her way through it anyway.
"Come and visit."
"Of course."
She embraces Katie. She feels tears prick in the corner of her eyes. She has such a horrible feeling that Katie will not visit. Her best friend; the person she has felt closest too in her whole life. Memories still plague Sara's mind. She has images of people that she can barely remember. She can still smell her mother's shampoo. She can still hear her parents arguing. She can still feel the squeeze of a strange woman's hand, leading her out of her home for the very last time. She can still feel the tears running down her cheeks.
All of a sudden she realises that the last one is not a memory. Her cheeks are wet with salty moisture. She pulls away from Katie, turns around and hastily wipes away the tears, ever determined not to let anyone see her emotions; she learnt that lesson a long time ago. Convinced she has recovered herself she turns around.
"Katie-" she begins. But then she realises Katie is now a couple of metres away, talking to someone else. She is already forgotten, she thinks.
She is suddenly aware that a new stage of her life is beginning. Picking up her bag she walks away. She cannot look forward. But she will not look back.
The curtains fall.
IIII
Nessun maggior dolore,
Che ricordarsi del tiempo felice
Nella miseria
No greater sorrow than to recall in our misery the time when we were happy.
Dante Alighieri (from The Divine Comedy: Inferno)