They Say Sarah by Pauline Delabroy-Allard

Author:Pauline Delabroy-Allard [Delabroy-Allard, Pauline]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Other Press
Published: 2020-04-28T00:00:00+00:00

2

My little girl. My child who’s so sweet and so funny. My living child who came out of my belly alive; what a wonder. My child who hasn’t stopped living ever since, and still lives on. I’m going to have to leave her. I’m going to go. Without her. As far away as possible. To forget Sarah’s profile in the disgusting light of early, early morning. Her ashen profile in the ashen light.

I’m going to run away to wash out my eyes. I’m breathing far too quickly. My whole body hurts. I know what I must do. My every move is sharp and precise, I heave myself onto the tips of my toes to rummage through the top of the cupboard. My hands grope blindly, eventually touch the strap, I pull, and my backpack thumps onto my head. My red backpack. I open it, zip, zip, the two zip fastenings. I pack a pair of jeans, a few T-shirts, some panties, a big scarf and a warm sweater. I get dressed. Another pair of jeans and another sweater. I don’t take any skirts, I don’t take any dresses and I don’t take any blouses. I make my escape. With death on my heels. Is she awake now? Over there in her apartment with the magnolias? Is she amazed not to find me beside her? She must be wondering where I’ve gone, after that night spent curled against each other. Our bodies locked together. She might be thinking I’ve gone out to buy breakfast. That I’ll be back. That I’ll smile at her. Carrying a paper bag with two little pains au chocolat. A slightly greasy brown paper bag. Like every morning in the world after a night of lovemaking. And my fingers, which still smell like her snatch, gripping the paper bag. But no. She’s dead. I know she is. She won’t come back to life. She won’t come back to her senses. She won’t call me. She won’t say she was wrong and she loves me and I must come back. She’ll stay there, lying on her bed. The dame aux magnolias. I know it. And her body will be found at a time of day when the burst of pink from those flowers makes a shadow-puppet garland around her bald forehead.

A low-cost airline ticket. That’s what I buy, clicking nervously on the first offer I find, not thinking, about anything. And this is something people dream of, buying a one-way ticket, a ticket to adventure, an idea that people nurture to keep themselves calm when life gets too complicated, too exhausting, the kids too noisy, anyway I’m getting out of here, I’m going a long way away and leaving it all, I’m going to catch a plane and never come back, start a new life somewhere else, and no one will know where, alone, and blissfully happy. I don’t think, I just click, again and again, I validate, I say yes to every question the computer asks, yes,

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