Seeking Sara Summers (6 page)

Sara observed the man sleeping next to her: the graying hair at his temples, the creases on his forehead that had grown deeper over the years, the slight smile on his face when he slept. He was happiest when he was unconscious.

She closed the lid of the jewelry box and returned it to the shelf behind all of Grady’s ties. Was she really considering selling the ring and going to Italy for Julia’s art show?

CHAPTER FIVE

Inside the airport, Sara adjusted the travel bag on her shoulder. The strap slid off with nagging frequency. “I can’t believe I’m actually doing this,” she said to her daughter, Jess.

“You deserve it, Mom. Except I don’t see why we had to get here four hours early.”

“I didn’t want to miss my flight,” Sara said.

“That would be pretty impossible.” Jess smiled, as if acknowledging another of her mother’s ridiculous traits she had put up with her entire life. Spontaneous risk-taking was Jessica’s mode of operation. Sara’s risks took thirty years to pull off.

“It’s so sweet of you to come see me off, honey.”

“It’s no big deal. I work in the city. Besides, I don’t want that guilt you’re famous for to stop you from going.”

“I hope you don’t hate me for selling Mimi’s ring,” she said.

“Mom, for the thousandth time, it’s okay. I would have never worn that gaudy thing anyway.”

Jess was fit and muscular from all her workouts at the gym and exercised as religiously as her father. She also reminded Sara of her mother sometimes if she turned her head a certain way.

Sara pushed a strand of her daughter’s blonde, shoulder-length hair behind her ear the way she had when she was a girl. During Jess’ stormy adolescence, Sara wouldn’t have attempted this.

“So your flight goes from New York to Milan?” Jess asked.

“Yes, then from Milan I’ll take the train to Florence. I can’t even believe I’m saying this, Jess. Am I really going to Italy?”

“Relax, Mom. People do it all the time.”

“I don’t think I ever told you that when I was a girl I dreamed about going to Italy. I was practically obsessed about it.”

“Really?” Jess said. “You never told me anything about when you were a girl.”

“Sometimes I forget I actually was one,” Sara said.

Jessica popped her gum. “You must get tired of being so serious all the time.”

Sara laughed and hugged her. “Yes, actually I do.”

They stood in silence, watching the bustle around them. The scene reminded Sara of when Jess first went away to college. She and Grady had delivered her to the steps of the freshman dorm, and then they were somehow supposed to drive away.

Now, it seemed, their roles had reversed. Sara was the one at the crossroads and dropped off on the doorstep of a new adventure. She smiled at the melodramatic ease with which she analyzed life these days. Cancer had given her permission to indulge herself.

“I’d better check in,” Sara said. A sensation registered in her chest, like a bird knocking its wings against the bars of its cage. She took a deep breath. “Why don’t you give your dad a call later and check on him.”

“Is he still pissed at you?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s what his silence means.”

“He’ll get over it,” Jess said. “He’s just used to getting his way.”

Grady had left the house early, stepping around her luggage in the hallway, without saying goodbye. No wishes of safe flights, or good trips.

The week before, Sara had considered inviting him to come along. Induced by guilt rather than genuine desire, this invitation would have undoubtedly created a mooring for the rough seas she wasn’t so sure their marriage could weather. But in the end she had decided that this trip had nothing to do with Grady. She had deemed it her farewell tour. She would use whatever time she had left to erase the regrets in her life.

She was going to Italy. A place she had dreamed about going since she was a girl. She would surprise the best friend she had ever had in her life by showing up at her art show opening. If Grady’s ego couldn’t take that, then she didn’t care.

“I may need your help if I get back and all my things are on the lawn,” Sara continued.

“Like Daddy would ever let the neighbors know there was a problem. Most of them are his customers.” Jess rolled her eyes, a gesture that Sara had hated when she was an adolescent, but now seemed endearing again. “Is your friend picking you up at the airport?”

“She doesn’t even know I’m coming.”

“She doesn’t know you’re coming? Mom, this whole thing is just so out of character for you,” she said.

“Thanks,” Sara said. She liked doing things out of character because it meant she had character to begin with. But her smile hid the terror she felt.

“Mom, is there something you’re not telling me? You’re okay aren’t you? I mean with the whole C thing.”

Sara hadn’t told anyone about her last trip to Doctor Morgan or that as soon as she returned she would be going through another round of chemo, a more aggressive round.

“No, honey. I’m fine. The whole C thing is taken care of.” Why this sudden inability to be truthful? Sara wondered. Was she trying to protect them or protect herself?

Jess looked relieved and popped her gum again. “Well, I’d better get back to work,” she said.

“Thanks again for seeing me off,” Sara said. They embraced and for the next few seconds Sara soaked in their reconnection.

“Ciao!” Jessie smiled as she walked away.

“Ciao!” Sara laughed in response. “I love you, honey!” she called after her.

Sara walked toward the airline check-in. Her stomach tensed. Second thoughts bombarded her. She could still catch Jess if she turned back now. Julia would never know she had backed out of the trip. She didn’t expect her anyway. But Sara had sold Mimi’s ring. She had taken a sabbatical from work. She had managed to surprise everyone she knew, including herself. No turning back, she told herself. If you don’t do this now, you’ll never do it. She willed herself forward.

Sara passed through security and reached the boarding area. Two hours later her flight was called. Sara found her seat next to a large man wearing earphones. He had the demeanor of a businessman who had taken countless flights, eaten his weight in fast food, with little time to exercise. He smelled heavily of cigarettes and a box of nicotine gum bulged in his shirt pocket. His bulky arm on the armrest forced Sara to lean into the window.

It was an evening flight; pillows were in every seat. The possibility of Sara sleeping through the night and waking up in Italy seemed remote, at best, considering the level of excitement—laced with fear—coursing through her body.

“Can I get you anything?” the flight attendant asked. Had she noticed how nervous Sara was? She looked Italian, perhaps in her early 30s, her hair and eyes dark, her features striking.

Perhaps a tranquilizer,
Sara wanted to say. Her right knee began to shake and she placed her hand there to calm it.

As they sat on the runway the captain’s voice came over the loudspeaker to welcome them aboard. Perhaps they had an Italian crew taking them to Milan. The pilot’s English, while impressive, revealed his primary language underneath. Sara liked the idea that their crew was on their way home to wives and children and loved ones. In an odd way, it was as though she was on her way home, too. Sara didn’t even know Julia anymore, but at the same time she had missed her.

Flight attendants served drinks and a meal, rolling carts in steady increments up and down the aisles. Did they ever get bored with their jobs? The perpetual cheerfulness required would drive me insane, Sara thought.

A family sat in the center seats across the aisle. A husband and wife, she assumed, and a girl of about six or seven between them. The girl thumbed through the pages of a book, her head resting against her mother’s shoulder. Scenes of mothers and daughters often captivated Sara’s imagination. Had she ever rested her head against her mother’s shoulder like that? She couldn’t remember.

As they flew across the Atlantic, the businessman beside Sara ordered several vodka tonics and watched the in-flight movie. The lights were dimmed. From her window seat Sara stared out into the dark night, imagining the ocean below.

Periodically, the moon revealed patches of smooth clouds with stars behind them.
Star light, star bright,
Sara thought. Hadn’t she and Julia recited that as girls? She closed her eyes and rested into her memory.

“
Look at those stars,” Julia said. ”The sky is full of them.”

“
They’re amazing,” Sara whispered. She had been spending a lot of time at Julia’s since her mom had been sick. Her 12
th
birthday had been the day before and the charm bracelet Julia had given her dangled loosely around her wrist.

Julia and Sara lay on their backs in the soft grass of summertime, studying the universe from Julia’s backyard. A square patch of light reflected from the kitchen window. The only other light came from the moon.

“
There are probably two girls in Paris looking at the stars just like us,” Julia said.

Sara sighed, the image pleasing her. Julia’s view of the world was always bigger than hers.

“
Hey, let’s make a wish,” Julia said.

Julia took Sara’s hand, their fingers interlocking to make the magic more powerful. They said in unison, “Star light, star bright. First star I see tonight. I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight.”

They made their wishes in silence, their hands squeezed tightly, as if this were required to thrust their intentions into the universe. With a final squeeze, Julia released Sara’s hand. Then she rolled over and looked at Sara, resting an arm under her head. “What did you wish for?” she asked.

“
You’re not supposed to tell, or it won’t come true,” Sara said. She missed the warmth of Julia’s hand.

“
Come on, Sara, tell me,” she insisted. “A wish among friends is sacred. Nothing can keep it from coming true.”

“
I don’t want to jinx it.”

“
Tell me,” she said again.

Sara hesitated. “I wished . . . that my mother wasn’t sick anymore.”

Julia reached over and squeezed Sara’s hand again. Then leaned on one elbow and caressed her hair. “It’ll be all right, Sweetie.”

Sara’s tears blurred the stars. She didn’t know what she’d do without Julia. She was more like family than her own family was these days. She wiped away the tears. “What did you wish for?” Sara asked.

“
I’m not telling,” Julia said. “It may not come true.” Her giggle escaped into the darkness. 

“
You bum!” Sara rolled over and tickled Julia who squealed her protest. “What was it?” Sara asked again.

“
I’ll never tell,” Julia giggled. Their laughter dissolved into the summer breeze. Sara was captivated. Not only by the vast, starry night, but by the vastness of their friendship.

Sara opened her eyes. Her smile reflected in the window and for a fleeting moment she saw the girl she used to be. The jet engines hummed steadily. Sara tugged at her hair, willing it to grow. This length looked almost fashionable. At least she had the face for it.

She wished now that she had called Julia before she left. Sara and Julia were seventeen the last time they had seen each other. Now they were in their 40s. Would Julia even recognize her?

Sara reached inside her purse for the loose photograph she had brought from home. She redirected the overhead light to study the image. It was the summer before their senior year at Beacon. Grady must have taken the photograph with the camera she and Julia had bought him for his birthday that year. He still used that old 35 mm. Sara had not, until then, attached a sentimental motive to his unwillingness to buy a newer model.

Sara returned the photograph to her purse and remembered the game she and Julia had invented in order to survive another boring summer in their small town. Julia would spin the globe on the desk in her bedroom, its blue world about the size of a basketball, attached to a rickety metal stand. The plastic earth rotated with dizzying speed and made waffling sounds as it turned, threatening to come off its man made axis and bounce across the room.

Meanwhile, Sara would stand poised, eyes closed, ready to let fate decide their destination. Wherever her finger landed was the place they would be that day. With the help of National Geographic and the Encyclopedia Britannica, their imaginations soared to far-away possibilities.

When Julia had left, Sara’s spinning world had halted. Now, almost thirty years later, she was finally having one of the adventures they had dreamed about. She was finally keeping her promise.

The businessman next to Sara snored, spittle forming at the corner of his mouth. Stubble had grown on his face overnight. They flew toward the rising sun. Flight attendants pushed their carts down the aisle like bees dispensing honey, serving each passenger a beverage with a small plate of fruit, cheese, and pastry. The businessman startled awake, looking over at Sara as if he had found her lying in his hotel bed and had no idea how she had gotten there. He quickly erased his drool, popped a piece of nicotine gum into his mouth and ordered a Bloody Mary from the flight attendant.

The snow-covered Alps came into view, the morning sun reflecting off the snow. Sara pulled herself up straighter, and mentally took a picture of the scene before her. She thought of Julia’s spinning globe. Her finger had landed on the Alps. She smiled. We must be getting close to Milan, Sara thought.

She went to the lavatory to wash her face. The tiny faucet rebelled, splashing a wide ink-blot of water down the front of Sara’s blouse. She soaked up the water with midget sized paper towels bracing her knee against the door to steady herself. She looked like she had been in a fight with a garden hose.

Sara awkwardly applied fresh make-up, her elbow anchored against the door. She dotted concealer on the gray arcs under her eyes and blended it in. “Well, that’s as good as it gets for now,” she said. Sara relaxed her face and smiled at her reflection. Who is that person? she thought. She looks almost happy.