The Dreamer

Chapter 25

At about noon, the next day, Sarah drove to the provided address. On her way there, she felt heaviness in her chest. She had endless memories of Martha being drunk, mean, and pretty much a horrible mother. She kept driving, her head filled with memories. A car honked at her, and she realized she had almost run over a red light. The young man in the vehicle across her showed her his middle finger. She took a deep breath and managed to slow down her heartbeat. This time, she drove more aware of her surroundings. Whatever would happen with her mom, she would deal with that when the time comes.

She reached upper Manhattan and looked attentively until she found West 130th street. She parked in the street and decided to stay in her car for few minutes, regaining her self control. She wasn't used to visiting upper Manhattan. She looked around apprehensive, and left her car. Clutching her purse tightly, and looking in all directions, she walked to the street number she was looking for. When she reached the location she realized it wasn't a house, but rather an apartment complex. She looked for the number 208, and took the stairs until she found the apartment Andrew had provided. She came to the door and lifted her fist, but then stopped.

She felt self conscious. What was she doing? What would she tell Martha? What would Martha say in return? Was she ready for it? Frozen in place, she felt people walking in and out of the apartments around her. Some stared and most of them didn't pay attention to her. She put her fist down. Before she could decide, the door opened. Martha stood in from of her. She had a cigarette in her mouth. She spit the cigarette down. And with a frown slammed the door in Sarah's face.

Sarah felt her heart about to burst out of her chest. Her eyes filled with tears quickly. She took a step back and then another. When she was about to turn and leave, the door opened again. Andrew rushed to her.

"No, please, don't leave," he held her hand. His eyes were red and there were big bags under each eye.

She nodded, and held his hand; if he didn't guide her in, she wouldn't be able to do it herself.

Sarah walked carefully as if walking on eggshells. Right next to the door, there were actually eggshells on the floor. There was a trash bag that apparently Martha was about to take outside when she found Sarah. Liquids were pouring from the back. Sarah took a look around. It was a tiny place, very dirty, and crowded, nothing like her childhood home. She wondered what happened to the house, but she was happy she didn't have to go back there.

Andrew guided her to a tiny living room, big enough for only one couch. Martha looked at Sarah, and threw the bottle that was in her hand. "What is she doing here?" The bottle broke in pieces and Martha started crying. "Get out of here."

Sarah was frozen in place, feeling the need to run but also feeling her legs nonresponsive. Andrew tightened the grip of her hand. She looked at him and saw he was crying and putting his face against her waist.

No, she though. I can't do this to him. She never stood up for her childhood self, and now she had an opportunity for redemption.

"Didn't you hear me whore?" Martha stood up and came face to face with Sarah.

Sarah remembered seeing her in the park, so peaceful and loving. "This is more like you," she said.

Andrew grasped her hand even tighter. Martha took a look down at him and relaxed a little bit. "Why are you here?" She opened a cabinet and grabbed another bottle, took it to the sofa and served herself a full glass.

"I, um," she didn't know how to answer. Why was she there indeed? To get redemption wasn't the proper answer, to help a boy, that was the answer.

"We need to talk," she said finally. She took few steps and stood in front of Martha. "It's important."