8:02 p.m. - Wednesday, Aug. 04, 2010
Oklahoma
It was 4:00 in the morning when the phone on Sara's nightstand started ringing. "Hello . . .?" she mumbled. "Sara . . .Sara . . .please be awake when I get home. Please stay up." "Kevin? Ok . . .Ok, I'm up." And the line went dead.
Her heart started pounding as she fumbled her way out of bed. She put some clothes in the washer and started to pour herself a glass of water when Kevin came stumbling in through the front door. She heard him knocking over furniture as she set down her glass. She stood in the hallway, watching as he held his face in his hands and sank to his knees.
"What's wrong?" she whimpered. It scared her to see him like this. "I lost it all . . .I lost it all. I couldn't STOP." He had spent the night gambling at the casino. Three thousand dollars down the drain because he couldn't walk away from the table.
But Sara is the strong one. Sara is the mother. "It's Ok," she reassured him. "Rent is paid, and you still have two hundred dollars to last until your next paycheck. It's Ok!" "Please, Sara, please don't try to put a silver lining on this . . ."
But Sara doesn't know how to do anything else. She is the perpetual placer of silver linings. She is the ultimate ignorer of reality. Kevin should know this by now. She held onto his hand as the tears streamed down his face. As he told her how he wanted to drive off the side of the road. As she made him laugh with stupid jokes about the absurdity of the situation.
Kevin fell asleep in Sara's arms. The next day they had a picnic lunch in the cool shade of the trees on the banks of the creek by their house. He said it would be a nice spot for a wedding. They walked hand-in-hand along the water's edge as he described how they might set up the chairs and who would be invited and what time of year might be best.
Sara loves him. And Sara could marry him. And Sara always imagined she would be an amazing mother. But sometimes, deep down in her soul . . .she dreams of running away. Far away. To be the mysterious stranger in some cliche midwestern farm town, where the flat fields reach out to the horizon on every side.
Where the corn is as high as an elephant's eye . . .
�
�
