When Sarah got home that night, there was a certain pride that was following her. The shadow of loneliness seemed to leave after that interaction between that father and his young boy. It left her feeling better than she's felt before.
She walked into her house, slipping her shoes off, letting the strap of her old bag begin to slip from her shoulder. Her cropped tank top hugged her body nicely, allowing for a good breeze to keep her cool. To keep up with her overwhelming sensations, Sarah would run. She'd run for miles, hoping to never stop, hoping that the night would last forever as she sprinted through the city. In a way, running from something that wasn't there seemed better than trying to face it. Her surplus of running was able to give her a body that she necessarily didn't want, but she didn't care in the slightest.
Her mother was home, the old, rough car in the driveway outside, the smell of food being prepared in the kitchen. Sarah let her bag slip onto the small table they kept by their door, books and small notepads clattering together as she set the strap down. Sarah walked down the hallway, landing in the kitchen and dining room. At the stove was her aging mother, hair tied back into a loose bun that covered her nape in a messy nest of dyed blonde.
"Hey mom," Sarah said, pulling out her chair to sit. Astrid glanced to her, still stirring the pot. There was a look in her eyes, something that gleamed when she looked at her daughter. Sarah was accustomed to the looks of affection her mother would offer. It casted a dark spell of sorrow over her heart when she realized that her mother couldn't look at anybody else that way. It hurt when Sarah realized that she was the only thing her mother had left.
"How was your day?" Astrid asked. A layer of excitement was laced into her words. Sarah sat upright, bringing herself to the edge of her seat, watching with keen eyes as her mother took the utensil out of the boiling water and placed it on the towel next to the stove.
"It was okay," Sarah said skeptically, hoping to keep the naïve facade. She planted her elbows on her knees, watching with precision as her mother faced her.
Astrid, when her husband left, picked up two jobs, which left her with a maximum three hours of sleep a day. Her body was breaking down, her mental bandwidth getting thinner. The patience that Astrid had bestowed upon her daughter disappeared completely about a year and a half into her hustle that ran day and night. Her fingers had scars from handling boxes, her muscles having past tears from the weight of the packages. Then, there was the shakiness of her legs, and the callouses and rough textures on her feet from her day job. No matter how long she stayed at either profession, she stayed in the same position.
When Sarah officially got her first job, Astrid practically rejoiced. She cried with gratitude as she was able to regain a healthy sleep amount. Now, with two sources of income coming into the household, Astrid didn't have to constantly worry about the bills that came in. Astrid never let Sarah see her cry, often going to the bathroom to wait out the anxiety and anger until they spilled out into the toilet paper as she sat there. But Sarah always knew. She always heard her silent weeping in the middle of the night when she came home from her runs, the silent mumbling of 'I miss you's and the begging of true love.
"It looks like you had a good day." Sarah admitted, watching as her mother nodded gently, a smile coming to her face. The warmth within Sarah tripled as she watched her mother quickly slip over to the table, pulling out her chair, sitting down with a huff. There was a place in Sarah's heart that was starting to stir as Astrid reached out and grabbed her hand within her own. An uncertainty.
"I have good news." Sarah nodded, pulling herself forward, watching as her mother glanced down at their hands, starting to rub smooth circles into her skin. She didn't speak, she only listened.
YOU ARE READING
The Grean Household
عاطفية"It was a mistake..." She told her mother, folding her hands into each other. "Marrying him..." Her mother said nothing, she simply sat there as her only daughter stood across from her, on the verge of collapsing from bruised ribs and cracked shins...
