kids and my kids seemed to like him. And, while I loved that man’s company, I had no plans to marry or even move in with him. Fortunately, he understood my kids always came first.
Until now, I’d sworn my kids and Justin had all but loved each other—but something was wrong and I had to wonder if Justin had anything to do with it.
If he did…I’d have to kick him to the curb.
First, though, I needed answers from Sarah, whether she liked it or not.
After letting out a long stream of smoke, I crushed the butt in the small glass ashtray sitting on the wrought iron table by the back door and grabbed the doorknob. Before I’d have a chance to second guess myself, I walked through the house and down the hall toward Sarah’s closed bedroom door. That it was closed said more than words.
I rapped on it, avoiding the kitten poster Sarah had tacked on it at Christmas three or four years ago. It had been a present from her dad, and Sarah had loved it—but I doubted she’d taken any joy in it, much less even looked at it, over the past year. Sarah didn’t answer my knock and my eyes drifted from the kitten’s eyes to the doorknob, and I decided right then and there no more closed doors in this house.
I knocked one last time. Still no answer. “Sarah?” Finally, I turned the knob and opened the door. My daughter sat quietly on the edge of her bed looking toward the floor, a pile of bed covers hunched up around her. She didn’t acknowledge my presence, much less act like she’d even noticed the door was now open. Drawing in another breath to fight back tears I hadn’t known were there, I stepped into the room.
I sat on the edge of the bed beside her, not saying anything at first. Lowering my head, I tried to look at Sarah’s face underneath the hair covering it. I used my fingers to pull some locks back before nudging her chin so I could look in her eyes. But she kept looking down even while facing me straight on. Whether she chose to look at me or not, I decided to talk. “Sarah, I don’t know what’s going on, but I want to help—and if you don’t tell me, I can’t.” With a sigh, I took her hands in mine. “As your mother, it’s my job. I’m supposed to take care of you.” Still nothing.
I had no idea what else to say—but, until Sarah started talking, silence wasn’t an option for me.
So I forced more words out. “I remember bringing you home from the hospital. You were so tiny, so delicate. So fragile. I knew then that you were the biggest responsibility I’d ever have in my life. And somehow I’ve messed up. Whatever’s going on, honey, we can face it together. We’re a team here.” When Sarah looked up, her eyes felt like they were burning through mine—as if she had nothing to say yet had passed severe judgment on me. In response, my throat clenched—but then the stare from her that I’d grown used to changed. Softened. “I love you, Sarah.” It was then that a small tear formed in the corner of her eye, so I drew her close, holding her in a warm embrace as that tiny tear turned into a full-on crying jag.
For the longest time, I stroked her hair while she buried her head in my chest. As her sobs died down, I asked, “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?” Without hesitation, she shook her head—but I wasn’t ready to give up. This was the most emotion I’d seen from my child in months. We were making progress. “Sweetheart, I can’t help you if I don’t know what the problem is.” Thinking back to my stint in middle school, I asked, “Are you getting teased by other kids?”
At first, she shook her head as she had moments earlier, but then she began to nod ever so slightly. “A little.”
“Is that what’s bothering you?”
“Not really.”
At last, I had her talking—and while I was nervous about her potential answers, I felt the need to brave into darker territory. I needed to know and she seemed ready to spill. “I’m not going to be angry with you, no matter what your answer, but…are you experimenting? Maybe trying drugs or alcohol?”
“No.”
Her answer didn’t make me feel any better. “Were you playing with cigarettes?”