Page 124 of We Drank the Dawn

I’m not like Mom.

I’m not. I’m not. I’m not.

Tonya hummed as she listened, her expressions giving away how impressed she was. Finally, she said, “So, are you getting a divorce?”

I shrugged. “Maybe. I made an appointment with an attorney.”

But I definitely had not made an appointment. Why was I lying to her? Panicking over Tonya’s opinion wasn’t normal for me. It didn’t even make sense. I never cared what Tonya thought…

Until she thought I was like Mom.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” she said. “If you don’t go running back to him within a week or two, I’ll take back everything I said about you being like Mom. She doesn’t have the balls to walk away.”

My smile was weak, fleeting before it fully formed.

“I’m proud of you, you know.” Her pink lips clamped down on her vape. “So, what’s your next big thing? How are you reinventing yourself?”

I took a hard swallow as my mind flitted back to the pathetic new list I made that had exactly two items on it.

Do something drastic with my hair.

Have a baby.

“Um…” I laughed. “I might get my hair done.”

She laughed too. “Hey, that’s a start.” Her eyes calculated the long, red waves cascading over my shoulders. “I vote a pixie cut. You’ve got the right face for it.”

“Peter loves my hair.”

Tonya snorted. “All the more reason to cut it.” Then she winked.

We continued into the parking garage, silent now. The weight of all we’d said pressed down on me. Was I truly like Mom? So caught up in a man I had no individuality? Surely her flaws lay deep in my genes.

Tonya hugged me at the door of the elevator, and I could scarcely croak out a goodbye as panic wound around my heart and sunk its talons into the tender flesh of my identity. Stepping into the elevator alone, I pushed 3 and waited, the small enclosure making my thoughts feel bigger, louder than they already were.

Was I codependent too?

Did I love him too much?

My eyes flitted over the dull, reflective metal doors, noting scuffs the public had left on⁠—

Then I froze, soaking in my reflection.

My clothes hung on my body. I knew I was losing weight because the waistbands of my scrubs were loose, but this was so much worse than I thought. Deep purple circles encased my eyes. And they looked so tired, so…empty.

There was so much Mom in me that I thought I was going to be sick—right there in the middle of the lifting elevator. I slapped a hand over my mouth to stifle a terrified sob.

My reflection disappeared as the elevator buzzed and the doors rolled open.

I yanked the box of keepsakes from the top shelf of my closet, my heart beating with desperation. It had been so long since I even thought about the original list I carefully wrote on stationery all those years ago. Long enough for me to doubt its existence.

But Tonya saw it. She read it.

Frantic to understand myself, I rifled through random papers like movie tickets, old letters, photos, and school programs until I found a single piece of zebra striped stationery. And sure enough, at the top, it read, “Sarah’s Live List.”

My stomach pitched and my hands shook as my eyes scanned the list.

A sinking sense of doom filled my gut. And truth I didn’t want to acknowledge poured into my spirit like bitter poison.