On The Run

Chapter Twenty-Three - "Creaking Floodgates"

Jake

“Sarah?” I called, listening through her bedroom door for a response.

No answer.

She wasn’t necessarily depressed since her high school reunion, but just with much less to say. We looked through case files all day, and planned out our next moves, but other than that, she just sat in her room holing up in her thoughts.

I pushed open the door slightly; she was sitting on a chair on her balcony.

“Hey,” I said, walking over.

She looked up and gave me a small smile, “Hey.”

“It’s freezing out here. What are you doing?” I asked, as the wind threatened to blow off a potted plant in the corner.

“It’s not that bad,” she replied.

“Well, I’m heading over to Cory’s. Are you going to be okay?”

She scoffed, “Jake, I’m fine. Really. Stop worrying about me.”

“I can’t help it; you seem . . . different.”

She frowned, “I’m just more reflective; it’s still me, okay?”

I stared at her warily, “Well, if you need to talk . . .” I trailed off.

She nodded, “I know.”

I stepped off the balcony and walked out into the hallway. I wasn’t sure what to make of her anymore; she wasn’t dwelling on cases, and she was more forthcoming, but she just didn’t seem like the Sarah I’d known for the past six years. I didn’t have a problem with this side of her; I just didn’t know what to make of it.

I was just pulling on my jacket when she popped out of her room.

“Jake?”

“Yeah?” I turned.

“Um, dinner. In or out?”

I frowned, “In?”

“Yeah, I could make something.”

“You cook?” I asked, with raised brows.

“Yeah. I spent two months in Italy learning after college. I could make pasta or something,” she shrugged.

I frowned, curious. The only explanation I could draw from all this – whatever it was – was that coming in such close contact with pieces of her past at the reunion had made her more accepting of that part of her life. Or, it had opened up memories she’d closed off.

She sighed, “What, Jake?” she looked tired. Not physically, but more like, she was tired of the weird looks I’d been giving her.

“Nothing. Yeah, in’s fine.”

She nodded, “Okay. Dinner’s at eight,” she said, and walked off.

Which was why, at seven-fifty, I found myself seated at our kitchen island as Sarah placed a steaming plate of pasta in front of me.

“Rigatoni with beef and eggplant ragu,” she said smiling, “Enjoy.” She plopped in the seat across from me, “My mom used to say, as long as there’s still the existence of pasta, then the earth will continue to rotate.”

I stared hard at her and pushed my plate away, “Okay, I can’t do this.”

She frowned, “You can’t eat?”

I sighed, “Sarah, don’t feel obligated to share stuff with me. It’s making me really wary, cause I don’t know what to expect anymore.”

She looked taken aback, “Jake, it’s just pasta.”

“No, it’s you.”

She looked exasperated, as she sighed, “Seeing all my old friends reminded me of what my life used to be like – normal. And then, I started to think of how I’d throw these sleepovers and my mom would go all out with the food, and my dad would try to act cool by throwing in a little high school lingo here and there. And then, I started to miss them and that made me long for normal. I just wanted a hint of normalcy in my life – normal conversation, just . . . normal stuff. Sorry if it made you uncomfortable.”

Then she just looked really sad. I swallowed.

“I’m so sorry, Sarah,” I murmured, feeling very stupid.

Combine the reunion with the approaching Thanksgiving and Christmas periods, and it was bound to make anyone long for their family. And for someone without, the empty longing must have been terrible. I didn’t understand the dynamic between her and her father, but it couldn’t have been very comforting.

She looked down at the table with a small shrug, “A lot of stuff has happened in my life at this time of the year. And going back and seeing my friends again was kind of like a trigger.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked.

She shook her head, “No, because I’m trying to move forward. Reminiscing on the good times in the past won’t help. I’d just be dwelling on things I can never have again.”

I smiled, “Okay. Well, my rigatoni’s getting cold, so if you don’t mind,” I said, giving her my best rendition of a smile. I was suddenly feeling very sad for her.

“What do you think?” she asked eagerly, as I dug in.

I had to hand it to her; it was heaven in my mouth. I gave her a little shrug, and said, “It’s alright. I’ve tasted better,” I joked.

She rolled her eyes smiling, and dug in to hers.

I watched her face drop slightly as she delved into another train of thought.

“Tell me about your mom,” I urged. It was just an attempt to break her out of thought; I was so used to her bringing up a countering topic, that it took me a little while to comprehend the following silence.

“She was perfect,” she said, smiling to herself.

And that opened the window of opportunity for me to kill all my curiosity completely.