The Dreamer

Chapter 19

The wind blew gently in Sarah's face, her hair getting entangled freely in an eternal dance with the wind. She lay down on the ground and stared at the sky. The clouds had unusual shapes, but once in a while she saw some shapes that resembled something familiar to her, a dragon, a slice of pizza, and even a face. She kept her eyes peeled, not too worried about the sunlight in her eyes. To be fair, the sun was constantly getting out of view as the wind covered it with clouds. The basket was next to her, empty. Her phone rang; she took a look at the screen. It was an unknown number. Then she got a text. Sarah, are you alright? Did you make it home safely? She directed her gaze back to the sky. Within the next minute another text came through. She looked at the screen. It's me Matthew. She assumed it was him, so there was no need to confirm.

All energy had left her body. The idea of replying felt exhausting to her. It was simply pressing few buttons, but nonetheless, it was something she'd rather not do. The phone rang again. This time she hung up the call in the second ring. Something within her moved, and she felt it was fair to be as kind as he was being.

She replied: Don't worry. I am fine.

Forget about how he got her number. That was meaningless now. He was making an effort to support her, and he even tried to help her communicate with her daughter. It's all on me. This is my own doing. He doesn't deserve to be ignored.

Another text came through. Where are you? This time she turned off her phone. He knew she was fine, and that was enough. All she needed at the moment was space. A woman and her child walked by her.

"Are you alright?" The woman was smiling. She stood tall next to Sarah. Her head covered the sun.

"Yes. I am fine," Sarah replied.

"Here," she gave Sarah a sealed water bottle. "It will help you if you get too tired. The sun can be relentless in the open field." She held the hand of the boy and left.

Sarah sat straight up and took a gulp of water. She stood up and grabbed her basket. She went back to the line of bushes and joined the group of people collecting blueberries. She held her basket on the forearm and started laboriously picking the juicy berries. At first it was a mindless activity, then it became in a sort of meditation state. When the bucket was half full she started picturing what she would do with so many berries. Maybe I'll bake something. The though sent her in a spiral of excitement. She hadn't baked in years.

The place hadn't changed much. She used to pick blueberries every year with her father first, and then with Matthew, who was also a fan of the flavor of all berries. They would take the buckets home and bake something together. After she left Damon's house, much against his wishes, she drove aimlessly for a good fifteen minutes until she found herself close to the farm. Just then she had realized how far from home she was. But at the same time, she wasn't too far from her childhood home. She quickly put her thoughts away when she started remembering the accident, and her house, and her life with Martha. She pictured how her life would be if she had stayed in touch with Matthew. Maybe they could be friends and go pick up blueberries together. He probably doesn't even remember this place or realize how close it is to his place.

The next handful of blueberries she put on the basket felt to the floor. She looked down and noticed it was full already. I guess I better go home. She turned her phone back on and realized it was approaching five o'clock rapidly. In succession, about six texts came through.

Do you need any company?

Did you make it home safely?

She ignored the rest and just called Matthew.

"Sarah, thanks God, are you alright?" His voice was a loud shrill.

She heard another voice on the line. "Of course she is fine. I can't believe how naïve you are to fall for her manipulations." Then the shoes stomped on the stairs.

"Matthew. I am fine. I just needed some space."

"Ok, well, I am sorry about how things went down. Let me help you. I'll talk to her."

"No," her voice was louder than she intended. "I appreciate what you are doing," she lowered her voice. "I put myself here, and I have to fix this. You have done a great job as a father. I wish I was there as I should have."

He sighed. "I am sorry," his voice was soft.

"Metoo," she said before hanging up.