Part One
It was seven O’clock in the morning when Sarah woke me up that day. My head aching, and my eyes still heavy with sleep, I forced myself to wake up; I hadn’t gotten much sleep to begin with. “Mommy, I’m hungry,” Sarah whined, climbing into my lap. I looked at my three year old daughter still in her Dinosaur long-jongs, strands of her simple brown hair dangling in her face.
“Baby, it’s still early. Come climb in bed with Mommy, and we can eat in the morning,” I groaned patting the empty bed space besides me. Sarah was still at that young age where I could induce her with any piece of information, true or false, and she would still believe me. She crawled underneath the muffles of heavy blankets as I turned back over and immediately fell asleep again. However, not even ten minutes later, I felt her shoving against my arm.
“Mommy,” Sarah whined. “Mommy, Mommy,” Sarah whined again when I refused to answer her, shaking me harder. “Mommy!” Third time; the whole thing was useless.
“Alright, Alright,” I grumbled, throwing the covers off my bare legs and falling out of bed. Wearing only gym shorts that rose to my thigh and a white spaghetti strap shirt covering up my stomach, I could feel chills flying through me, as my bare feet slapped against the cool flooring.
I made way into the kitchen of our small apartment, Sarah skipping happily and ebulliently behind me. I unwrapped Sarah a blueberry pop-tart, the only thing she would eat for breakfast, and poured her a glass of milk. Giving it to her raw, I went just across the room to the computer where I had a thousand page essay about “life’s wonders” to finish. Taking one glance at my half written essay, the words began to jumble into nonsense as the sentences became unnatural. I skimmed down to the bottom of the page and frantically tried to figure out what to add in next, but the page as well as my mind remained blank. It hadn’t been much longer before Sarah came, crying her way back into my life. “Mommy-“ she began in her usual tone, but I stopped her from going any further.
“Sarah, go play; I need to finish this.” But Sarah remained by my side. Ignoring my pestering child I turned back to the dead computer screen. However, after feeling Sarah’s fingers move abundantly across my arm non-stop for at least five minutes, I couldn’t handle her presence and think at the same time. “Sarah, I said go play!” I hollered. I compelled myself from immediately clouting her across the head as anger began to boil beneath my skin. “Do you want me to swat you on the butt.” By the sound of those words, Sarah let out a sharp clamor and was gone and out of my hair.
Now that Sarah was away, I could take more control over writing my paper, but I had other things on my mind that always seemed to pull me away from it. I couldn’t forget the morning I woke up to find Marlo gone. We were supposed to get married and raise Sarah together, but that will never happen when he runs off like a coward, leaving me alone to take care of our child by myself. It wasn’t just the fact that I was on my own now with parenting. The house had felt a particular emptiness once Marlo was gone; the one that put knots in your chest and blisters on your lip for trying so hard not to cry. Marlo was my best friend, my companion, and the only person on this earth I could rely on. Now it is just me and Sarah. I was starting to feel officious about my child at the moment. If I didn’t have Sarah, I could go out into the world, find Marlo, or some other guy who would rock my world. I could do stuff twenty-one year olds were supposed to do.
Sighing, I pulled my thoughts away from everything and back to the paper. I focused my eyes on the computer screen and began to write, listening to the off and on sniggering of Sarah as she watched Sponge Bob. After a while, I had actually gotten somewhere with my essay, but it was just then when I realized I hadn’t heard from Sarah in a while. I waltzed into the living room to find the room in a defile of pot-tart crumbs and the sofa, where Sarah was probably sitting, empty. I quickly scanned the room for signs of my daughter, but she was unsighted and unheard. When I noticed the front door creaked open, my heart stopped. Dashing out into the clear bright air, I called out for her, but there was no answer. Cars rushing back and forth, not far from where I was standing, roared with laughter. I looked all around the parking lot, but Sarah, my three year old baby girl, was gone.
