Sarah: the story

Sarah Story

By Billiam Corona

Sarah felt like punching somebody as she left the building. She fought the feeling, not wanting to acknowledge yet that she had been hurt, or rather that the pain could do anything to her.

“The real world.” she thought. “I have to remember I’m in the real world.”

She began to walk toward the deli restaurant a few buildings down and noticed her feet felt a little heavier than before the interview. This feeling bothered her upon recognition and she hopped from one foot to the other a few times to shake it off.

“There’s a great job out there for me. That may have been one of them. That was the job for me. I just couldn‘t think and wasn‘t able to show it. That‘s okay. There are enough great opportunities. It would take more than a lifetime to interview for all the great ones. Then over a lifetime even more would pop up in the time being. What am I talking about?”

Her inner dialogue continued, but was continually interrupted by deeper feelings of dread, that she was careening toward some kind of destruction. The idea of being jobless for much longer was unthinkable, but a blank incarnation of that thought hung shapelessly inside her head. It was in fact the biggest most powerful thought she had, and everything she told herself was an attempt to throw something in front of it, keeping it out of her vision long enough that it might be forgotten. However if she stopped concentrating on this task the dread would almost immediately return in full.

Exhausted by this subconscious battle, Sarah suddenly found herself at the deli restaurant counter. All the food looked terrible.

“Um…” she said to the young-looking counter guy. “What do you think is the best thing here?”

“Probably the number five.” he replied, looking uninterested. She imagined she seemed sad, and wondered if this was putting him off. She quickly decided to flirt a little, thinking this might be precisely what she needed to kill off the bad.

“Nah, that looks not-so-great. What’s your second favorite thing?” she said, intentionally trying his nerves slightly.

“I don’t know.” he said in a blank tone. He looked up at the list of items begrudgingly, as if being forced to think was an unwanted chore. “The three?”

Now Sarah didn’t want to give up. She wanted to be in his head. She leaned forward and let her elbows land on the counter, looking up at him with a wry smile. Something in her brain told her fearfully to knock it off, but she ignored it.

“Now, come on. You mean to tell me those are your two favorites? From all of those great things?”

She pointed at the two spots on the list for effect, and smiled bigger at the end of her question.

“Lady…” he said, his head shaking slightly back and forth. We’re…kinda busy right now.”

At his head shake, Sarah’s ignored fear became an unstoppable punishing regret. She was mortified, but her brain went into overdrive to help her hide it.

She stood up straight again, letting her smile fall into a slightly disappointed half-smile.

“Eh,” she said with a shrug. “Never mind then. Thanks anyway.”

She walked away from the counter and out the door, all the time fighting the urge to look back to see if anyone was watching her. She thought she might cry.

“Wow, what is the matter with me today?” she wondered. “I can’t make anybody interested in me at all. Didn’t get the job, and now this thing. There is something seriously wrong. I can’t believe what I just did. That guy is probably gonna remember it forever. I’ve never seen anything like what I just did! Ok. I’m alright. Stop it.”

She was suddenly compelled to walk back into the store and have the counter-guy give her a complete critique of her behavior. She wanted to know exactly where she went wrong. What her problem was, and how bad. The thought quickly evaporated, as it arrived tied to a second, opposing thought that this was ridiculous. She would never get any answers from him. She kept walking, trying to soak in all the different, exhausting aspects of the city that gave it the energy she was attracted to, which was usually a pleasure.

“Aw, what do I care about that guy anyway. He probably just hates women. I have no use for that. Can‘t tolerate it.” She ran across the street in front of an oncoming car that was barely far enough away. “I‘m tired of wanting to be wanted. Just a thing, an object for other people to enjoy. Their enjoyment. Why would I want that? Well, okay that’s stupid. Because you get good things in return. That’s all a job is, really. Everyone’s objectified. I guess its okay to want that a little bit. Still though I’m not want-able. I’m out of the equation. I need to figure out what’s wrong.”

She let out a long sigh, and slouched down onto a nearby bus stop bench, next to a weird homeless man who looked as if life had really beat the crap out of him for many decades.

“I’ll probably never know.” she thought. “No one likes to tell you stuff like that. If somebody wants to insult you its usually just nonsense and a compliment is the same thing. Just to make somebody feel good or bad. Never for help. Its bullshit. I need to relax. That’s probably what it is. I don’t know.”

She briefly considered telling the homeless man how strange he was, and exactly how it was putting her off. She looked at him, opened her mouth and stopped at the last second, moving her head in the opposite direction. “Its hard!” She thought. “He’d probably kill himself, though. It wouldn’t be practical. Not like with me. He‘s probably not as mature as me. I mean he‘s homeless.”

She suddenly noticed that the sun was about to set.

“I guess I’ll head home.” she forced on herself. “I hope John is taking a nap or something. I’m not in the mood today.”

The homeless man had noticed her attempt to speak and leaned over to her:

“You wouldn’t happen to have any change, lady? I need a dollar for the bus.” wheezed the man, the energy of the sentence causing him to have to lean lower onto his folded arms.

“You should come up with something more creative than that.” answered Sarah, getting up, “because that’s pretty much word for word what I thought you were gonna say. It doesn’t make me wanna help or even like you. Work on that, and I‘ll see you next time.” she said confidently, and raised up her arms in a ‘what more can I say’ posture. Then she walked off toward the train station.

Following a long train ride and a short walk, Sarah pushed herself through the front door of her and John’s apartment, utilizing gravity, careful not to use any more energy than absolutely necessary.

John stepped out from the kitchen drying a coffee mug with a dish rag. He came into view with a curious expression, then smiled when he saw her.

“This guy.” Sarah thought, annoyed.

“Hey.” John said in an affected voice, trying too hard to look adorable.

Sarah realized suddenly she was looking at him with an expression of frustrated disappointment. Quickly she tried to hide it in lieu of hurting his feelings.

“Bad day?” he asked. He had registered it, but didn’t know it applied to him, too.

She dropped her bag at her feet. “Yes. I’m a little pissed off to be honest with you.” she had meant to say it angrily, but it came off sounding very sad.

Instantly his expression changed to a look of deep despair out of bottomless concern.

“Oh shit.” he said sadly, setting the mug and towel on the table next to him. He walked up to her in the entryway and hugged her. “What happened?”

“Nothing. I don’t know. I don’t wanna talk about it.” She leaned out of his embrace covertly, and tried to think of a way to word it where he really would stop asking. “I just didn’t get the job, that’s all.” and she walked from the entryway to the living room couch, flipping on the tv in the process.

“Hi tv.” she thought. “Think for me for awhile.”

John walked slowly after her and sat down on the couch arm she was seated up against. “If I still wanted to talk, I wouldn‘t have walked away.” she thought.

He squeezed her shoulder.

“You know its gonna be okay, right?”

“Ugh.” she thought.

She looked up and gave an unconvincing smile. “Yeah.” she said assertively, hoping now to be able to return to the show.

“Good. Cause it is.” he replied, standing back up. She avoided looking at him as he stood, not wanting to encourage any further talk. She felt him standing there for a few seconds, then heard him returning to the kitchen.

She tried watching a history show, but could not stop her brain. She was deeply annoyed:

“Its just an act. Nothing more. If he was honest he’d be saying different things but he can’t! I don’t need anybody to be nice to me. What I need is a little help. Doesn’t he realize that? No, he doesn’t. He needs to tell me what’s wrong with me , but he won’t...not even if I make him mad. Its like I say, it’ll just be more nonsense. Why can’t he see my problem? What’s wrong with him that he likes me so much? What if…maybe he’s not good enough. Maybe he’s not at the level of that interviewer and that restaurant guy. People like those guys are way up there enjoying themselves while here we are, wallowing in our own mediocrity and we’re not even clever or cool enough to know it! Ah, what am I gonna do? I need to shake loose of all this shit.”

Sarah could take it no longer. She stood and walked to the kitchen entrance. John was cooking pork chops.

“What’s wrong with me?”

He looked at her blankly. “What?”

“What’s wrong with me. I really want to know. Tell me.” Speaking the last sentence she was suddenly aware of rapidly approaching tears, which she did not expect. She stood silently waiting, feeling she would be able to hold them off if she didn’t say anything else. She felt trapped.

He turned to her, leaned against the stove, and smiled at her incredulously: “Nothing. You’re perfect.”

“Oh, you idiot!” Sarah cried out loud, her voice shaking, and instantly felt completely exposed. She could almost feel a cold wind against her mind. Feeling she needed to continue despite the disorienting intensity and embarrassment, she attempted to find words.

“You…Look, I… I don’t want another bullshit compliment, alright?”

He stood looking at her for what she felt was a long time.

“Well.” he said. “I’m sorry for wanting to help.” He said this with an air of disappointed indignation. “Its not bullshit.” he added, turning back to the food.

“It is bullshit!” You just don’t know it!”

“I think I know better than you whether its bullshit or not.”

“But it is! It just is. Nobody’s perfect. It’s a silly thing to say.”

He turned back to her with his hands raised.

“Alright fine! You’re not perfect! Feel better?”

“Yes I do.” She didn’t really, but was hopeful for what might follow and wanted to be encouraging.

“Now,” she continued. “What’s wrong with me?” Asking it this time, she didn’t feel desperate or sad. She felt strong in her stance and was ready for anything.

He looked her in the eyes, ready to answer, but she could see he was not taking it seriously.

“Well you’re crazy. For one thing.” he said with a smile.

“That’s a bullshit answer. Give me something I can use.”

“Something you can use? Ah, I see.”

“Yeah.”

He thought about it for a few seconds.

“Um…you are…hmm.”

He grabbed a spatula and tapped it slowly on the stove top, indicating thinking.

“You are very…well you ignore me sometimes. That can be annoying.”

“No, that doesn’t help me. I know I ignore you sometimes.” she carefully explained. “See I could stop ignoring you ever, but would that fix what’s wrong with me?’

“Yeah.” he said. “I guess so. Its annoying, so you wouldn’t be annoying anymore. Then you’d be perfect. Or…you know, close to perfect I guess. Since nobody is..”

“You don’t understand what I’m saying.” she said, feeling like they were slowly getting somewhere. “Me not wanting to talk to you is not my problem. If its anybody‘s problem, its yours really. Its my way of dealing with my problem. Not the problem itself. So what’s that?”

“I don’t know!” He exclaimed. “I can’t see inside your head. I wish I knew cause I’d like to help!” He paused for a second, looking away. “But you know, if you’re rude to people who can help you then it can go back to being your problem again. I assume you’re asking because nobody’s hiring you? Well there you go. Be nicer to them!”

Sarah decided silently that this was a point worth noting, though not the point she was asking for. She also realized that this might be all she was going to get. However, she felt a need to press on. They were so close to getting somewhere, and he was mad now which meant to her that the grounds were set for change. She corrected him once again, adding a jab that occurred to her just then for good measure:

“No. I’m talking about my own mental health, not the stuff on the outside that helps people like me. I don’t care about being liked! I know you care about stuff like that, but I don’t.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Its just how you are. Always saying nice stuff all the time, no matter how you feel.”

John let out an incredulous chuckle. “I say nice things when I’m feeling nice! If you’re suggesting that a compliment from me is some sort of attempt to manipulate people into being nice to me back you’re completely totally off.”

Sarah was a bit moved by this passionate denial and was not sure if she still felt correct on that subject. She regretted the accusation, but forged ahead.

“Well you’re the one telling me to be nicer to people!”

“That’s not the same thing as being fake!”

“Oh isn’t it?”

“Of course it isn’t! Being nice is just considerate. I’m not gonna lie to people. Tell them nice things that I don’t believe. That’s just stupid.”

Sarah stared at him in defiance of his point, whatever it may have been.

“What I meant about the being nicer thing,” John continued. “and the ignoring me is just…sometimes people give off the wrong signals, you know? And a lot of the time it turns out what they’re doing wrong is some stupid thing they weren’t even thinking about. Its just good to know how you come off to other people, that’s all.”

“Ok,” recovered Sarah. “but what about my own mental health? That’s what I was asking about the whole time.”

“Its fine! I’m getting the feeling you’re just in pain because you got rejected. That’s not a problem, its just natural. Its not internal. Its just a reaction to something that happened to you.”

Sarah was completely thrown off at this point. Something in her brain told her that John was completely right. It was simply the pain of rejection and nothing more. But she ignored that. She couldn’t face the idea that she was wrong. That she would go through all this trouble and get him so upset for something so irrelevant. It didn’t seem possible, but she couldn’t figure out why it wasn’t possible. She just knew she was right. Therefore John must be crazy, on account of she couldn’t figure out why he was wrong. She was right and he was wrong and she didn’t understand it.

“Well, that’s crazy.” she said, getting her final word in before returning to the living room.

“Whatever.” said John, deeply annoyed but a bit relieved that it was over.

She tried to watch the history show again, but again her brain would not stop working. This time though, her thoughts were not coherent. It was just static.

She closed her eyes and waited.