Professional. Composed. The ice queen who never cracked.
Except she had cracked last night. In front of guests.
Sarah drove to work on autopilot. Parked in her usual spot. Walked through the employee entrance like every morning. Everything felt wrong.
Chrisla looked up as Sarah passed the desk. “Morning, Sarah.”
“Morning.”
Was her smile strained? Did she know? Sarah kept walking. Carlos waved from the maintenance office. Sarah waved back.
Did he know? Had someone told him?
Her office was at the end of the hall. Just thirty more feet and she could close herself inside.
Then she saw Lizzie.
Sitting on the bench outside her office. Phone in her hands but not looking at it. Just waiting.
Sarah’s steps slowed. She’d texted Lizzie at two AM. A pathetic apology that explained nothing. Lizzie had responded with love and Sarah had been too much of a coward to say anything else.
Now Lizzie was here. Sarah would have to face her.
Lizzie looked up as Sarah approached. She stood. “Hi.”
“Hi.” Sarah unlocked her office door. “Come in.”
They walked inside. Sarah closed the door and turned to face Lizzie.
“We need to talk.”
Sarah set down her bag. “Lizzie, I can’t right now—”
“No.” Lizzie’s voice was firm but not unkind. “No more deflecting. No more pretending everything’s fine. You told me your mother lived in Texas. That woman last night said she’s from Wisconsin. You said your father died when you were young, but she says he’s alive. Toothless, but alive. None of it makes sense.”
Sarah felt the floor tilt. The ice queen facade cracked straight down the middle.
She sank into her desk chair and put her head in her hands.
“I never wanted you to know. I never wanted anyone to know.”
Lizzie pulled the other chair around the desk and sat close. She didn’t touch Sarah. Just waited.
Sarah couldn’t look at her. Couldn’t bear to see the disgust that would be there when she found out the truth. But the words were coming anyway.
“Everything I’ve told you about my parents is a lie. There’s no mother in Texas. There’s no father who died when I was young. My parents were and are addicts. Alcoholics and methamphetamine users. My whole childhood.”
Lizzie sucked in air, but Sarah didn’t stop. If she stopped now, she’d never get it out.
“I raised myself from the time I was nine years old. Took myself to school. Cooked my own meals when there was food in the house. Made sure my parents ate. Tried to keep the house clean even though it was falling apart around us. Did everything while they spent every penny on drugs.”
Sarah looked up. Lizzie’s eyes were wet with tears.
“I learned how to forge my mother’s signature for permission slips. How to steal food from the school cafeteria to take home. How to tell teachers I was fine when I showed up in the same clothes three days in a row.” Sarah’s hands were shaking. “I got good at lying. It’s the only skill I learned from them.”
“Oh, Sarah.”
“When I was thirteen, my mother was high and decided to drive to the store. I begged her not to. Tried to hide the keys. She hit me and took them anyway.” Sarah could still feel the sting of that slap. “She crashed into our neighbor’s fence. The car went through the fence into their yard and hit their toolshed. Mr.Patterson came running out and she hit him with the car. Broke his arm. Gave him a concussion.”
