Page 25 of Sawyer
“Oh.Wow,” Kevin says, coming to stand next to me.
“It’s fine.Let me get the jack, and I’ll change it real quick.”
I should probably call the sheriff, but there’s no evidence of anything.I already know how to change a tire, so he could offer me little else.He’ll probably just think I’m going mad.Maybe blame the kids for playing around or something.But there’s no doubt that my tire is slashed.Had it blown, we would’ve heard it, and even if we didn’t, there would be pieces of rubber nearby.No, this is a clean cut, the rubber sliced by something that was clearly very sharp.
I move on autopilot as I grab the jack and tools I need from the trunk and get to work.The nice clothes I put on this morning, feeling good about myself after Sawyer’s visit, are instantly dirty from where I kneel, bringing me right back to reality.Ensuring that my daydreaming about a handsome man in a suit remains just that.Reaffirming that he isn’t part of my reality.
Gosh, if Sawyer could see me now, I’m sure he would run.I can’t even stay clean for more than five minutes.But his words come flooding back to me.To not diminish myself and my achievements.To be honest, I do it so often it's almost a natural response.I don’t even think about it.But all day yesterday, I reflected on my life and how much I do and how much I’ve accomplished.
I think about calling Sawyer.Maybe he’ll know what to do.A flat tire, I can change, but a slashed tire means someone was here.On my property.While I was sleeping.A shiver runs through me, and I wipe my brow as the morning sun beats down, my arms already tired as I pull off the slashed tire and put the new one on.I’ve never had anyone to call before.But he’s likely already back in New York, doing real legal work, not that of a crazy single mom who’s probably just seeing things.Besides, he didn’t mention how long he was staying this week, and he’s a busy guy.If he’s already flown back to the city, then who knows when he will be back in Whispers.
Noah starts playing around, his legs jittery from waiting too long, and the fright and agitation start to consume me more.
“Noah!”I yell, so much it startles me.I never yell at my kids, and it shows by the looks on their faces.
“Sorry.”I take a breath.“Please just hold Kevin’s hand and stay close, okay?”I tell him, and both boys do what I ask, watching me carefully as I quickly take another look around, feeling unsafe in my own home.
“You okay, Ma?”Kevin asks quietly.
“Yeah, of course.Nothing to worry about.We’ll just be a little late for school.”Knowing that by the time we get going and drop Noah off to his sitter and then get to school, we’ll miss the first period.
“It’s okay.”Kevin’s hand rests on my shoulder, and I close my eyes.I try to calm my breathing, my emotions getting the better of me.My son is giving me the little strength I need to keep going today.I squeeze my eyes shut as disappointment fills my bones.I started today on cloud nine.Now the tire has dragged me right back to the ongoing feeling of never being able to get myself out of this situation.
“You’re not just saying that because you have a math test first period, are you?”I tease, trying to lighten the mood.
“Well…” He tries to hide his smile.
I grin, glad he isn’t feeling scared like me.Kevin isn’t stupid.He may be young, but he’s seen and experienced blown tires and flats before.He knows by looking at this that it isn’t normal.
“How did that happen, Ma?”he asks, confirming my thoughts.
“I probably just ran over a nail.”I grab at my loose strands of hair, pushing them back.
“But it’s cut, Ma.”
I shrug it off.“Then I ran over a sharp object.”
“Maybe the ghosts did it?”he mutters, and I look up at him sharply.
“The what?”
“I feel like sometimes I see him…” There’s a flicker of terror in his eyes as he says it.
“See who, honey?”I wonder what he’s seen; maybe it could explain some things.
“Dad.”
I go rigid, my heart nearly stopping.Kevin was young when his father died, but he has seen photos of him.While I don’t want to have Steve’s eyes following me all around the house, I do think it’s important for his son to remember him.
“I dream about him too sometimes, honey.”I rub his arm, making sure he feels safe, even though I’m lying through my teeth.He fills my nightmares, never my dreams.
“No.Not in my dreams.”
“What do you mean?”My brow furrows, wondering what he’s getting at.
“I mean, sometimes when I’m out in the fields, checking the cows or the lavender after school, I see him.”
Maybe I’m working him too hard.He’s clearly seeing things.Just like me, it seems.
