Page 54 of We Drank the Dawn

Before I could register her arm swinging through the air, a sharp smack filled the room as her hand landed on my face. Sucking air into my lungs, I stumbled back, struggling to keep my balance. Stinging moisture welled in my eyes and blood rushed to the surface of my skin. Too stunned to speak, I grabbed my cheek, warmth blooming into the palm of my hand.

Sarah hit me.

Tears had caught up to her, full force now, her voice peppered with them. “You have no right to say that about me. Because you know as well as I do that it’s a lie.” Her inhale trembled. “But, if you regret giving me a ring so much…” She paused. “Then here.” She stepped forward and grabbed my hand, thunking her warm wedding ring into my palm. “Take it back.”

My fingers curled around the metal.

“If all this was a ploy to push me away, then congratulations, your evil genius worked. I hope being alone is everything you dreamed it would be.” Her words came through gritted teeth, dripping blood. “I’ve already packed my bag and I’m leaving.”

She turned toward the door.

“Wait. Where are you going?”

“Home!” She said it as if the question was stupid. “The only place I have to go is our tiny little house in Aurora. And since I’m the one paying our mortgage, that is where I will be living. Once you hitchhike or catch a plane back to Colorado, you can move back in with your parents, I guess. I’ll box up all your shit and put it in your parents’ garage.”

Regret and rage filled my mouth like a gag. I fisted the stupid ring, denying the urge to chuck it against a wall.

“You know, I’m sure losing your sight sucks. But the most tragic thing the accident took from us is you. Not your eyesight, Peter. You.”

Car keys jangled as Sarah swiped them off the counter and she opened the door, letting the warm breeze whip through the fifth wheel. “By the way, Ally from Hearth and Hound sent you a tit pic. Jokes on her though, I guess.” Her voice lost its fire, another cry cresting in her throat. “Don’t call me, Peter. Just—don’t.”

Then she slammed the door.

SIXTEEN

Peter

Then

She appeared in my life like a splash of color—arms outstretched toward heaven, sitting crisscross applesauce on top of the climbing dome in the school playground. Strands of her fire-red hair lifted off her head in every direction, her ponytail mused and littered with woodchips. Her purple shirt and green pants reminded me of Barney the dinosaur and made the brown freckles pop off her arms.

I worried she’d fall through the bars. But she didn’t look worried. A soft smile rested on her face as the breeze picked up, whipping the baggy t-shirt around her torso.

“What are you doing?”

She startled out of her sun-trance and dropped her arms as she blinked a few times. “Huh?”

“What are you doing up there?” I asked again, raising my voice a bit.

She looked down at me, the blue in her irises plucked out of the clear sky behind her head. “Just trying to catch the sun.”

I stifled a laugh. “Why would you want to do that?”

“Because my mom said the sun is bad for me.”

Confused, a frown pulled into my brow. “Doesn’t that mean you should stay away from it?” Judging by her milky white skin, I figured she’d burn up like my baby sister, Jackie, did.

“It doesn’t mean anything.” The girl shrugged. “How could a big old sun that has been there forever and keeps us warm and makes plants grow be bad for me?”

“Maybe because it’s hot?”

She scoffed. “It’s not that hot.”

“I don’t know. Twenty-seven million degrees is pretty hot.”

She rolled her eyes like that was stupid. “Have they put a thermal thingy on the sun?”

She meant thermometer, and I almost corrected her, but then I realized she had a point. How did they come up with that number? I’d have to ask Dad. “So, what do you plan to do with it?”