Sara (23 page)

forty-one

Summer was growing cooler, impelling Sara to burrow a little deeper into the high collar of her turtle-neck sweater. The anteroom of her psychotherapist was decorated in warm colors, soft lighting, and original artwork, but was always at least ten degrees cooler than Dr. Sondra J. Purdy’s office. She suspected that this was intentional to aid the patient’s transition from the “cold” world outside, into the safe and cozy environment of the doctor’s lair behind the doors made of solid walnut.

             
“Sara, I am so happy to see you today,” Dr. Purdy welcomed.

             
Sara felt instantly better. She stood and smiled and took Sondra’s hand. Dr. Purdy insisted that she be addressed by her first name only. Sara appreciated the intimacy this tiny detail added to her sessions.

             
“I wouldn’t miss our last appointment of the summer together for all the money in the world,” Sara shared as she took her place on the comfortable faux leather couch. She reached over and fondled the leaves of a flourishing Peace Lily. “I knew you could save this plant.”

             
Dr. Purdy took a seat in a matching Camille chair and folded her hands in her lap. “I consider that Lily as one of my greatest accomplishments,” she offered. “When you brought it in, I was certain it was destined for the compost pile in my back yard.”

             
Sara smiled and settled into her favorite spot on the couch. “It just proves that we should never give up when life still has a chance.”

             
Sondra Purdy sat back and made herself comfortable. “If there has ever been one person to sit on that couch who understood the true meaning of your statement, Ms. Haller, it is you.” She smiled broadly. “You are looking absolutely resplendent, Sara. How have you been since out last conversation?”

             
“I am doing much better, Sondra. I spent the last two weeks and my father’s entire savings shopping for new clothes and furniture for school this fall.” Sara touched the collar of her sweater. “Lots of high-necked apparel.”

             
Concern washed over Dr. Purdy’s face. “Let’s talk about your physical appearance, Sara. The last time we met, you were recovering from cosmetic surgery to reduce the scarring under your breast. Was the surgery successful?”

             
Sara shrugged and looked at the Lily. “It looks better than it did, but the scar will always be there.” Her eyes watered. “It’s like a large pale banner across my chest to remind me how rotten the world can be.”

             
Dr. Purdy empathized. “It is a ‘banner’, Sara, but the wonderful thing is that you get to choose what that banner says. When I see the marks on your neck and on your chest, I am reminded of the resiliency of a young woman who fought the worst evil has to offer, and came out victorious.” She paused for a moment to let the message reverberate. “Tell me what you see when you look in the mirror?”

             
Sara pulled a tissue from her pocket and wiped her eyes. “I try not to look in the mirror,” she said. “But, when I do, I see the driver of that tow truck sitting on my stomach, with that huge hunting knife in both of his hands…” Sara blotted her eyes again, “…and I see my aspirations, and my expectations, and my optimism wiped away with a single thrust.”

             
Dr. Purdy let the moment breathe, then asked, “When you woke the next morning, in that hole, what was your first thought?”

             
Sara blew her nose into the tissue and dropped it into a waste-basket before answering. “I was surprised that I was still alive.” She looked up and smiled a bit. “And I was damn certain that I was going to stay that way.”

             
“So, your optimism and your aspiration and your expectation endured?”

             
Sara thought for a second before answering. “They did, but their definitions certainly changed.”

             
Sondra offered gently, “Our definitions change with time. I see growth in you, Sara. And as we grow, we come to realize that it is our individual obligation to define our own lives. To let others define us is to relinquish authority over our very existence.”

             
Sara pulled down the collar of her sweater and revealed a patch of white puckered skin beneath her left ear. “I think I am a long way from defining this as a badge of honor, Sondra. I see it as a symbol of helplessness.”

             
“You may have experienced helplessness at that moment, but you survived, and you flourished, and you faced down two evil men, and you were victorious over them.”

             
Sara remained silent.

             
“One of my favorite quotes says, ‘
You may encounter many defeats, but you must not be defeated. In fact, it may be necessary to encounter the defeats, so you can know who you are, what you can rise from, how you can still come out of it
.’”

             
Sara smiled. “Maya Angelou,” she said. “I just finished her autobiography. She is such an inspiring woman.”

             
“I think Sara Haller is an inspiring woman. If she would only open her eyes and see what everyone else sees in her.”

             
Sara blushed slightly. “Maybe someday,” she said. “There is something I have to do first.” She became serious. “Do you think it is possible for a good person to be evil?”

             
Dr. Purdy struggled for a moment with the change in Sara’s demeanor. “I believe it is entirely possible for a good person to commit an evil act. What do you believe, Sara?”

             
“I think that once a good person does something obscene, evil wins. Good and evil can never live in harmony. One will always consume the other.”

             
Dr. Purdy saw a dark cloud pass over Sara’s face. “Does it help you at all to know that the man who raped got what he deserved?”

             
Sara focused on the wall and stared for a long time. “The man who raped me will get what he deserves,” she said quietly.

             
Dr. Purdy looked confused for a moment. “You speak of him as though you feel he’s still alive.” Sondra leaned forward and looked Sara in the eye. “It is quite normal for you to imagine that your attacker is among the living; to feel that he is somehow able to resume stalking you, or bring harm to you even though he is dead.” She scooted forward in her seat and touched Sara’s knee. “In time you will acknowledge his death and accept the reality that he can no longer hurt you.”

             
Sara shook her head, as if she had been in a trance. “Oh, yeah,” she finally answered. “I know he will never hurt me again.”

forty-two

Mike watched Carol Iverson as she checked her makeup, patiently waiting for him to arrive for their lunch date at the Bookend Café in Boulder. He knew why she wanted to meet. Her husband had returned from the “dead” and she wanted to make sure he knew that there would never be a future for them. He had been avoiding this meeting for three months now. Somehow, that slight hope that she might still love him kept a tiny flame burning in his heart. Yes, he had taken Jean back, and they were working hard, seeing a marriage counselor once a week to save their tattered marriage. They had placed their bets on the solitary affinity they shared; Sara. The joy of having their only child home, alive and relatively healthy, sustained them…for now. Mike didn’t hold out much hope for the marriage after fall classes began at the University of Wyoming. Sara was already packing her belongings up for another attempt at her freshman year.

             
Carol turned and spotted him staring from a distance. She looked confused at first, then sad. She painted a beautiful smile across her face and waved Mike over.

             
“Okay,” Mike said to himself. “Stop acting like an awkward teenage boy and face this like an adult.”

             
“I was starting to think you weren’t going to show up,” Carol paused. “Again.”

             
Mike blushed. “I’m really sorry about that,” he said, taking a seat. “I was called out for a drug raid in the county that night.” He didn’t like lying to Carol, but he figured that after this lunch he would probably never lay eyes on her again.

             
“That’s what you said.” Carol looked at Mike seriously. “Are you okay?” she asked.

             
Mike stammered, “Oh, yeah, of course.” He looked at his watch. “I’m just a little pressed for time,” he lied again.
Dammit!

             
“Mike, I haven’t seen you since Sara came home. I’ve tried to call you, I’ve sent letters, I even waited outside your work one night hoping to congratulate you. What’s going on?” she asked with concern.

             
Mike took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “How is your husband?”

             
Carol’s jaw dropped slightly and she leaned back in her chair. “He is as well as can be expected,” she finally said.

             
A waitress appeared with a glass of water for Mike. “Would you like a menu?” she asked.

             
“No,” Mike said. “Water is fine, thank you.”

             
Carol handed a menu to the waitress. “I’ll have the oriental salad, please, and a glass of unsweetened tea.”

             
Mike watched the young woman retreat. “I really am happy that Jim is alive,” he finally said. “I’ll bet Taylor is just ecstatic.”

             
Carol smiled. “He is. His father does not leave the house without Taylor in his back pocket.”

             
“And you?” Mike asked. “How did you manage to slip away unnoticed?”

             
A hint of anger crossed Carol’s face. “I work, Mike. I am a professor at Colorado University. I don’t have to, ‘slip away’.”

             
Mike regretted his question. He regretted agreeing to meet Carol, and he regretted not taking her into his arms and confessing every intimate thought he ever had about her.

             
Carol moved her chair closer to Mike and forced him to make eye contact with her. “I told Jim about you,” she said. “I told him about Taylor engulfed in flames, and I told him about our home burning to the ground around us, and I told him about you rushing in and saving our lives when all hope was lost.”

             
Mike couldn’t speak.

             
“And I told him that I love you, Mike. I can’t just turn that off like a light switch. I thought Jim was dead. I grieved for him, and I cried for him, and I told him goodbye.”

             
“And now he is back,” Mike tried to appear happy.

             
Carol nodded and began to cry. “He’s back, and my son absolutely adores him, and I want so badly for things to just go back to the way they were before we went to Chiapas.”

             
Mike took a sip of his water and watched as the waitress brought Carol’s salad and tea. “What did Jim say?” he asked. “How did he take the news that you had fallen in love with another man?”

             
Carol fidgeted with her tea, stirring it with a straw. “He was shocked, of course. He was angry, and hurt, and he told me that he felt betrayed.” She stirred in a packet of Splenda before continuing. “I told him that he wasn’t being fair. I watched him die as those Mexican police officers shot him full of holes. I spread his ashes at Trapper’s Lake, for God’s sake. I told him that if I had known he was still alive that I would have moved Heaven and Earth to bring him home.”

             
Mike took Carol’s hand and held it tightly. “I understand,” he said quietly. “I know that you have to stay with him. Jim Iverson is a good man, and you and Taylor are very lucky to have him back.”

             
“We are,” she said, wiping tears from her eyes. “And the fact that you are saying this makes me love you even more.”

             
Mike took a final sip of water and slid his chair back. “If you and I are meant to love each other, Carol, it will have to be in another lifetime.” He stood and kissed her on the forehead. “I truly am happy for you and Taylor and Jim.”

             
Mike left the café feeling much better than he imagined he would.