shape our destiny. Sarah had made the wrong
ones, over and over. It wasn’t anyone else’s
<
shape our destiny. Sarah had made the wrong
ones, over and over. It wasn’t anyone else’s
fault.
Mom seemed relieved. “I was worried you’d do something impulsive, get yourself dragged into this mess. You’re more level–headed than I
thought.” It had happened before, but not this
time.
“It’s just strange,” Mom mused. “Such a sweet girl… how did she end up like this?”
A month later, Sarah was discharged. Taking out the trash, I saw Jake yelling at her front
door.
“Who cares? You’re barren now! I’ll marry you if you want, but I’ll still have kids with someone else! You gonna sue me? Your daughter was the one who threw herself at me!”
Mr. Miller went to the school, made a scene.
–
л
<
Jake was finally expelled, a full–fledged
delinquent. He got what he wanted.
He saw me, grinned. “Four–Eyes, you live
across the street? Why don’t you marry her? Make things easier.” He leaned closer,
whispering, “Even if you don’t marry her, it’s all good. She can’t get pregnant, no strings attached. Use her and lose her, like I did.”
I finally snapped, punched him.
He spat. “I’m offering you a free pass, and you hit me?” He was a seasoned brawler, his punches fast and brutal. I went down. “Everyone knows you’ve always wanted her! Stop pretending to be Mr. Nice Guy!”
I was about to hit him with a bottle from the trash when I heard screams from Sarah’s
house. Mrs. Miller had fainted. Her health was already fragile, and the stress had been too
much. Chaos. By the time things calmed down,
<
Jake was gone, afraid of being held
responsible. Mrs. Miller was okay, thankfully.
Later, I heard Jake had been in a motorcycle accident that night. Died on impact. Mangled beyond recognition. I knew it was only a matter of time.
Sarah was inconsolable, screaming to see him one last time. Her parents locked her in her room. She climbed out the window, fell from the second story. Aggravated her old injuries, broke her leg. Back in the hospital.
After graduation, I learned the Millers had moved. I went to Harvard, as planned.
I saw Sarah again ten years later, on a business trip. I always bought my wife gifts. Leaving the mall, I heard a woman yelling. “How could you do this to me? I’m pinching pennies to pay the mortgage and car loan, haven’t bought new clothes in a year! And you’re buying your
10:20
mistress a two–thousand–dollar handbag! Two thousand!” The woman’s voice was shrill,
attracting stares.
I glanced over, a flicker of recognition. Sarah. Almost unrecognizable. Baggy t–shirt and jeans,
slightly overweight, hair messy, no makeup. She
screamed at a short, stout man. “How could
you?! I’ve given you everything, and you’re cheating on me!” I’d never seen her so
disheveled, let alone screaming in public. In my
past life, she was a graceful, elegant dancer.
After we married, I gave her whatever she
wanted, even though my salary wasn’t huge.
She never lifted a finger around the house
because I didn’t want her to. I thought I was
making her happy, sparing her from chores.
How could she have betrayed me so
completely?
The man shielded the woman behind him.
“Don’t talk like that! She’s not my mistress!
She’s the mother of my child!” The woman was
<
heavily pregnant, due any day.
Sarah lost it, lunging at the man, hitting and
scratching. “You bastard! You promised me your wanted to be child–free!”
“Child–free?! You can’t have kids! You think I want to be childless too?! Serves you right! If you hadn’t been such a wild child when you were younger, you wouldn’t have lost your uterus! I’m the only one who would marry you!” He pushed her aside, ushered the pregnant
woman into a cab.
Sarah tried to grab the door, got shoved away. She scrambled up, threw her shoe at the cab.
“We’re getting a divorce!” The words seemed
to drain her of all her energy. She collapsed, her
face blank.
I picked up her shoe, offered her a tissue. She
looked up, murmured “thanks,” her voice
hoarse. She saw me, her eyes widening.
<
