She played the role of devotee. She seemed to be the perfect disciple.
Yet, she wasn’t lying there, with her eyes closed like the others.
She stared up at the cloud covered sky.
I liked that she forced her eyes open.
I gingerly stepped over people, trying not to trounce on someone’s hand. I sank down onto the grass beside Sara. I reached out and touched her hand. Briefly. She didn’t pull away. For only a second her pinkie curled around mine. An acknowledgment.
And when I lay back, I too stared up at the sky.
I refused to close my eyes.
“Where were you last night?” I asked her once we were permitted to speak.
It had been a long three hours. This time I didn’t fall asleep.
But I sure as hell didn’t pray either.
I thought a lot about the girl beside me. Of kissing her again. Of doing normal things with her, like going to the movies. Or walking her to her front door and making out under a streetlamp. Stupid things that in any other situation wouldn’t seem so monumental. But here, it felt impossible.
Sara made me wish for impossible things. And I would fight for them. She was turning me into a warrior.
Sara bowed her head as we filed past the line of older members—the elders. Her mother was one of them. The way she watched me gave me the willies. I definitely got the feeling she didn’t like me.
The elders placed a palm on each of our heads. We were expected to pause and let them bless us or something like that. I simply did what Sara did. I hadn’t bothered to learn the intricacies of their strange practices. I promised myself I’d be gone soon. There was no point in remembering the prayers.
But here I was, a month later, and no sign of leaving…
I watched as she bowed her head for her blessing. I noted the way her mother barely touched her. As if she begrudged her what she freely gave to everyone else. It made me unreasonably angry. I saw how Sara seemed to shrink as she stood before her mother. I hated Ms. Bishop for making her feel that way. I hated her a lot.
Sara didn’t answer me. She acted as though I hadn’t spoken. And when Ms. Bishop put her hand on my head, her nails dug into my scalp.
Sara was heading towards her house when I caught up with her. “Sara, wait,” I called out.
She hesitated, looking around, but most of the other members were still back at the clearing. Finally, she waited for me.
“What happened last night? You never came to dinner.”
Sara shrugged. “I was tired.”
I wasn’t sure if she was feeding me a line, though her eyes were ringed with dark circles, as though she hadn’t slept well.
I followed her along the white graveled path. She looked pretty in her white skirt and simple cotton shirt. I wanted to tell her but didn’t know how she’d respond. Didn’t know how I’d say the words without coming across like a moron.
I had never been so unbalanced by a woman before. Not since I was ten years old and crushing on my sixteen-year-old babysitter. There was something so solemn and serious about Sara Bishop. She seemed much older than me, but at the same time much younger. She was incredibly naïve, given how shut off she was from the rest of the world. But there was something inside of her that craved toknow.
The fact that part of her hadn’t died yet in this stifling environment said more about her than anything else.
It was one of the many things I was learning to love about her.
I thought she was going to go to her house, but then she turned left and headed towards the woods. She didn’t slow down but I got the impression I was meant to follow her.
So, I did.
Once we were in the shadowed cover of the trees, she finally looked at me. “I read your book.”
I gaped at her in shock. “All of it?”
