WHAT HURTS THE MOST
Chapter Four
Fourteen and a half years had
gone by since Sarah had entered Cal’s life. But there was not one day in
Sarah’s young life when she didn’t wonder why she didn’t have a mother. She had
never bothered to ask her father, seeing as he was never home. Even when he
was, he wasn’t in the mood to talk much. But tonight Sarah decided to take a
chance. She was sick of playing guessing games with herself, wondering what
happened to her mother.
Sarah got out of the chair at her
vanity and walked to the parlor, where she saw her father sitting in the same
chair he always did when he was home, reading the Philadelphia Eagle, as usual.
"Daddy?" Sarah asked.
Cal looked up from his paper.
"Sweetpea. How are you?"
Sweetpea. There was nothing that
she hated more than being called that.
"I’m all right," she
answered. "How are you?"
"Just fine."
Silence.
"Can I...can I ask you
something?" Sarah asked.
"Of course. Anything."
She sat down in the couch across
from him. She crossed her legs nervously and started to pick at a fabric ball
on the couch, but stopped herself.
She remembered how she had tried
to say it while she was alone one night, rehearsing, while her father was out
drinking. She wasn’t stupid. She knew he was out drinking with friends. That
was what most of the nights consisted of nowadays. Where’s Mama? No. She
knew that didn’t sound right. Did Mama die? No. Too dramatic. Was
Mama killed? No. Even worse.
"How come I don’t have a
mother?"
She didn’t want it to come out
that way. It just did. She decided that that was better than the other lines
that she had thought of.
A questioning look spread over
Cal’s face. "Where’s your mother?"
Sarah nodded. She knew she had
said the wrong thing by the way her father was looking at her. She diverted her
eyes to the floor.
Cal folded up his paper and
leaned forward. "Sarah. Sarah, sweetpea, look at me."
Sarah’s brown eyes met her
father’s.
"I knew this day would come.
I just don’t know how to tell you."
Sarah folded her hands in her lap
and tried to keep his gaze.
"Your mother...she...she was
beautiful. You have her lips, you know."
Sarah unconsciously touched her
full lips. "What happened to her, though?"
Silence hung between them.
"It all started when you
were five months old. You were just a little girl. Cute as could be. Then along
came a man by the name of Jack Dawson."
"Jack Dawson?"
"Yes. Ah…Mr. Dawson was
quite the unpleasant subject in this family. He started a war between your
mother and me, Sarah."
"But...but what
happened?"
"Oh, she ran off with him
soon after. Never saw or heard from her again. But...Rose...was she ever
beautiful. I would have given anything to get her to stay with me. Believe me,
I tried everything. Even gave her a guilt trip about having you. I told her
that we needed to be a family."
Sarah could hear her father’s
voice getting louder.
"But, no. She had to run off
with Jack Dawson and ruin everything!"
She wasn’t sure if she had seen
her father this upset over something before. Of course, she had seen him angry,
but this time he looked like he was ready to break something.
So, her mother hadn’t died like
Sarah had initially thought. She just left. She was abandoned by her own
mother. Who does that? she thought.
She suppressed a sigh.
"Thank you for telling me the truth, at least."
Sarah walked to her room and
closed the door behind her. She lay on her bed and hugged a pillow. She
couldn’t help but feel animosity towards her own mother.
Wait, she thought. She sat up and grabbed a
spare piece of paper and a pen. She wrote down the name Rose Dawson on a piece
of paper.
Someday, Sarah thought. Someday I’ll find her
and ask her to explain herself.
*****
Sarah walked along the dimly lit
hallways of the Peterson Detective Agency. Even though it was April, she felt
cold. Or maybe it was because she was nervous.
Sarah came to the detective
agency so she could track down her mother. Her father had no idea that she was
out in the evening. If he was, he was sure to yell at her. She wouldn’t be let
out of the house for a month.
But she knew she didn’t have to
worry about that. It was past 7:30, and her father still wasn’t home. He
wouldn’t be home from drinking until at least midnight. That gave her plenty of
time to talk to Detective Peterson and get home.
Sarah knocked on the door labeled
Detective Peterson. All right. Remember what you are here for, she
thought. Rose Dawson. Rose. Dawson. Ask for him to find her address.
A tall man with piercing blue
eyes came to the door. She saw cigarette smoke coming out.. A cigarette was
dangling between his fingers. "Can I help you?"
"Yes, hello. I want you to
track down someone for me," Sarah said, trying to control her shaky voice.
Detective Peterson looked at her
young face. She couldn’t be older than fifteen. He knew it wasn’t a good idea
to grant a minor’s request, but he let her in.
Sarah walked into his office. She
suppressed a cough. It was obvious that he had been smoking a lot of the day.
"What can I do for
you?" Detective Peterson asked, sitting in a desk chair, feet propped up
on the desk.
Sarah sat down and crossed her
legs. "I want you to find someone for me."
He reached for a piece of paper,
then sat up properly. "Who do you want?" It’s not who I want, it’s
who I need, she thought. But when she opened her mouth, her mind went
blank. It was because she was nervous. She always forgot what to say when she
was nervous.
"Rose Dawson," she said
when she remembered. "I don’t know where she is."
Detective Peterson chuckled.
"That’s why I’m a detective, little lady." He wrote down Rose Dawson
on a sheet of paper. "Now, do you want to pay for this?"
Sarah reached into her purse and
pulled out some money.
"No, no, not now. I’m one of
those people where you don’t have to pay me until I actually work."
Sarah tucked the money back into
her purse. She felt sick to her stomach with nervousness, fear, and
excitement.. If Detective Peterson actually worked, that is.
"Why don’t you come back
next week?" he asked. "I’ll have something for you by then."
Sarah nodded and stood up.
"Thank you for your time."
"No problem. You have a good
day now."
"You, too," Sarah said.
Her thoughts swirled the instant
she left Detective Peterson’s office. What if he couldn’t find her? What if he
found the wrong woman? But mostly, she was scared of when he found the right
Rose Dawson. Because she knew that nothing would ever be the same in her life.