Act 33: Sara

Russell and I walk back to the car in silence; he scrutinizes me for a moment when we're inside. When I refuse to meet his gaze as a sign that everything will be fine in a moment, he sighs and passes his arm around my shoulder pulling me into a side hug, he delivers an affectionate kiss on my temple and lets go of me, knowing that right now I just need a moment on my own.

He starts the car so we can head back home. My thoughts are still with our mother; seeing her is always a bittersweet experience. It always makes me happy to be able to see her physically, and talk to her and hear her voice and hold her hand or just hug her; for a moment I can make abstraction of everything else and pretend that everything is as it should be. Unfortunately the moment of separation always comes all too soon, and every time it's a gut-wrenching experience.

Time hasn't made anything easier, in fact it's worse, because it only make more thing that my mother is missing out on and only get to live through letters and tales during our visits. Yes, I've grown up and built myself as an adult, but there's still the little girl in me somewhere who needs her mother by her sides.

Today it was particularly painful to walk away from her, it felt too much like the visit had lasted five minutes.

Slowly, I'm overwhelmed; I'm feeling too many things with too much intensity, I'm suffocating. I'm trying to focus on my breathing to regain some control over my emotions. The pressure however is too great.

Russell chances several glances in my direction then recognizes the signs of an incoming crisis – heavy breathing, nervous shaking; he swerves to pull over, as soon as we come to a stop I exit the car and start pacing hoping the movement will help me letting out some steam. I soon find myself kicking the safety rail for lack of anything better, grunting with frustration.

I only stop when I feel drained, I pace a bit more then sit in the car again but with my legs still outside. Russell came around the car as soon as I got out of it and is leaning against it on my right. He waits patiently, giving me a moment to collect myself.

"I'm sorry," I mumble pitifully to Russell, I'm looking at my shoe because I can't force myself to meet his gaze.

He comes in front of me and squat down so we can be at eye level. "Don't be silly now," he replies softly.

It's not, I know that, I should be able to handle myself. I'm about to protest but words fail me. "Come here," he says, opening his arms but not initiating the contact, knowing full well that I don't like being touched in time like these. I lean forward a bit, a silent acceptance of his touch and he just closes the distance to wrap me in his arms, providing me comfort; the affection has a lenient effect on me.

He pulls back several minutes later and looks at me. "Want to drive around for a bit?" he asks, just like he has asked so many times in the past whenever I'd lose it.

I just nod then look at my shoes again. "Okay," he kisses my forehead. "I'm going to call Charlie to say we'll be late."

Once again I nod; he stands up again, pats my head then takes a few steps back and takes his cell phone. He has a quiet exchange with Charlie, telling him what happened and that everything is alright now. He then goes to seat back behind the wheel and waits patiently for me to be ready to go.

Five minutes later Russell is driving again, I have my head against the window. I close my eyes for a while to block the feeling of guilt and shame starting to soar into my chest.

I snort bitterly, the words of one of the shrinks who evaluated me as a teen echo in my mind, 'Sara, is emotionally unresponsive and psychologically unstable, socially inept, unable to channel and translate her emotions in a way that is neither violent nor aggressive; her inability to process her emotions will results in frequent fits of rage during which she is a threat to herself and to others '.

Upon hearing Dr what's-his-name say this among other things to Charlie, I wanted to punch him, not the best way to convince him that he was a schmuck and was wrong about me.

I've spent years making everything to prove to myself that those words were just that, words. Yet even after all these years, as much as I loath to admit it, that statement still rings true.

I don't know how long passed since I had my fit but I suddenly open my eyes at the sound of Russell humming. I close my eyes again when I recognize the song; one our parents would sing to cheer us up, one of those precious things from our past that hasn't been tarnished.

I breathe in deeply letting the familiar melody wash over me like a tidal wave of warmth and affection; though it doesn't pacify me completely, it's precisely what I needed for it helps me to feel grounded again.

"…you'll see that life is still worth while…"

As he reaches the end of the song I turn to him and offer a small grin to express my gratitude. He smiles back at me and winks, soon after I know he's finally driving us home.

It's in moment like these that I'm reminded of how lucky I am for my siblings, because I probably wouldn't have been so far in life all the while keeping my sanity if it wasn't for them.

When we arrive, we pause in the foyer, I can hear everyone talking animatedly in the living room, Russell looks at me and I just shake my head, I'm not ready to be surrounded with people just yet, he nods in understanding and watch me go straight to my room in dire need of quiet.

I'm sitting on my bed facing the window, feeling drained, when the door opens after a soft knock. I tense immediately knowing that it's Cath. I don't want her to see me like this, I don't want her to know this side of me.

I feel the pressure on the bed and the next thing I know, I'm standing up closer to the window trying to control my breathing in order to fight off nausea, fight off forbidden thoughts trying to make their way through my mind.

It takes me a second to realize that I've just reacted on instinct; in my current state of mind I hate being touched, even more so when said touch is unexpected also when Catherine's hand brushed my shoulder my body reacted on its own, force of habit.

I wish I could tell her something, anything really, but I've never been able to put words on this… this… this mess.

I can't undo years of defence mechanisms and automatic physical response in a second.

I wish it was that easy, because I don't need to turn around to know that my reaction has most likely hurt Catherine; this thought alone aggravates my inner turmoil, and I curse myself because I wish things were different.

Why can't I be fucking normal?

Fuck.


Russell is singing 'Smile' from Charlie Chaplin, John Turner and Geoffrey Parsons.

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