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Fuck.
Why couldn’t the tree have landed in her living room or her office? Why did it have to steal her pillow and snatch away her phone?Suck it up, Buttercup,she recited the phrase her mother intoned every time Sabrina’s father came home high, lost another job, or took off with money set aside for bills. She hadn’t fully understood what it meant until the day they’d found her father dead after he’d shot up and choked on his own vomit in the living room of their doublewide trailer.
Sabrina had been the first one through the door. Her mother, Tracy, stepped in behind her, took in the scene, placed a heavy hand on her nine-year-old’s shoulder, and said, “Suck it up, Buttercup. Guess we’ll be spending the evening cleaning after I get someone to come collect his body.”
She’d gone numb at the sight of her father, but her mom’s words shook free her rage. Yanking from her mother’s grasp, Sabrina had turned and roared at the woman. Not spoken, cried, or screamed, but viscerally roared with anger, grief, confusion, and denial.
To her credit, Tracy hadn’t reacted. She stood calmly in the doorway and waited for Sabrina to quiet down. Then she squatted to eye level with her daughter and explained, “Life is hard. Some people, like your father, can’t handle it because they are weak. You and I are not like that. We’re too strong and too stubborn. Roar, shout, cry. Do whatever you need, but when you’re done, he’ll still be dead, and we’ll still need to clean the vomit from the carpet.”
Sabrina had shoved past her mother and run toward the trailer park’s playground while calling over her shoulder, “No, fuck this bullshit.”
Instead of reprimanding her for swearing, Sabrina’s mom smiled. “The mess’ll still be here when you get back.”
In her young mind, Sabrina had no intentions of going back, but hunger, darkness, and the need for comfort drove her home after just a few hours. Her father was gone. Her mother had changed into chore clothes and was kneeling on the floor scrubbing. There was already a second sponge in the sudsy bucket waiting for Sabrina.
At least tree messes smelled better than vomit.
Tilting her face up to the sky, Sabrina expelled her fear and frustration with the same roar she’d unleashed so many years before. Then she filled her lungs with fresh air.Suck it up, Buttercup.It was time to do what needed to be done.
Flashlight and candles first. Then she could assess the damage better. Obviously, her bedroom was trashed, but the entire tree didn’t fit in just one room. Odds were good the kitchen was suffering, too.
Sabrina’s house was a one-bedroom, one-bath built in the 1940s. There were no hallways, just a room in each corner of the house with a bathroom in the center, using space pulled from the bedroom and kitchen. The other half of the house was supposed to be a dining room and living room, but Sabrina converted the living room to office space and set up her loveseat and TV in the dining room on the day she moved in. It wasn’t like she owned a dining table anyway, and her massive desk didn’t fit anywhere else. She ignored any potential implications about living in her office room.
She shuffled around her office until she found a flashlight without batteries and a candle but no lighter.Suck it up, Buttercup.It wasn’t like she had anyone to blame but herself. Sliding her feet carefully across the floor to avoid stepping on anything painful or bashing her shin harder than necessary, she made her way toward her junk drawer and promised herfuture self she would get better organized. Then she rummaged through scissors, sewing supplies, and a box cutter. By the time she was holding a flame to the wick of the candle, Sabrina was afraid to look at how bloody her hands were. She’d also invented a few new swear words. No way was she rooting around for band aids, and without power for her well pump, she didn’t have any water either.
Luckily, the pricks and jabs all felt worse than they were. That and a new package of batteries for her flashlight were the only good revealed by candlelight, though. Once she could see the branches and leaves that had smashed her dishes, busted her refrigerator, and cut through the back wall of her home, she couldn’t hold back her laughter. Maybe she was deranged, but there was something about a tree landing exactly where she’d been sleeping during the precise few minutes she was in the bathroom that added a whole new level to her mom’s mantra that Williams women were too stubborn to give up and die.
Patting the wall beside her, Sabrina offered the destroyed structure the only comfort she could. “Thanks for not letting the tree crush me while I was bare-assed, on the toilet.”
She needed to collect as many of her clothes as she could. Everything in the kitchen was a total loss, but the computers in her office should be okay. Her TV and loveseat were fine too. It was something. Come sunrise, she’d try unearthing the coffeepot, but for now, Sabrina curled up under the throw blanket on her loveseat and tried to rest.
Chapter 3: Freddy
“We’ve got two open seats,” Margie said. “They’re both middle seats and in the back of the plane, but they’re yours.”
Inside, Freddy whooped with joy. He was going home. “Thank you. Thank you so much!” He started to pull out his phone to text Sabrina, but Margie stopped him.
“We’re holding the door for you. You need to board, so the flight isn’t delayed.” She offered a kind smile but added a gentle shove to his back to get him moving down the jetway. Renner had taken off in that direction as soon as she handed him his seatassignment, but even continuing to be stuck with the jerk didn’t diminish Freddy’s glee.
By the time he was seated and clicking his belt into place, the flight attendants were halfway through their safety briefing, and the plane was moving down the runway.
Freddy resigned himself to the odor of the man beside him while apologizing to the woman by the window for knocking his elbow against hers. She was polite but quickly started snoring with her head resting against the side of the plane. Freddy took it as his cue to do the same, though he tried to keep himself from slumping against either of the strangers beside him. It was still better than having Renner ask him another billion questions about Taylor Industries. The man had asked so many questions over dinner, Freddy had gone from sick of the man to worried he was some kind of corporate spy. They still hadn’t figured out who leaked their documents online, and Renner’s company, Dynamic Solutions, was threatening their contract over it. Freddy wouldn’t be completely shocked to learn they had orchestrated Veronica’s stalker trying to steal her data and the leaked documents.
For now, he had five hours to sleep in this tin can. When he woke up, he’d be one step closer to home. Time swirled as his head bobbed and drooped. He vaguely heard whispers about drinks and snacks, but mostly he dreamed of Sabrina. Brian Renner was shoving his way into their video game, when the lights inside the plane flashed and pulled Freddy back to consciousness just in time for the pilot to address them.
“We’re starting our descent into Dulles now. Skirting around the edge of that storm system gave us a nice tail wind, so we’re landing about twenty minutes ahead of schedule. The local time is 4:32 am. It’s cloudy and windy, but the current temperature is seventy-four degrees with highs today expected to reach the upper eighties. Please remain seated with your seatbeltsfastened until we turn off the Fasten Seatbelt light. We know you have a choice in airlines and appreciate you flying with us.”
The second they hit the ground, Freddy texted Sabrina. Then he sent his brother and CEO, Patrick, a message saying he’d be back in the office in a few hours.
“Freddy,” Renner called across the seats to him as everyone waited to file down the narrow aisle between the seats.
“Yeah?” He reminded himself not to be an asshole. Freddy was so close to being done with this trip. He just needed to keep it together a little longer.
“I flew out of Regan, so I’m gonna catch the metro that way. You good?”
Thank fuck! It was the best news Freddy had heard since they confirmed all one hundred Chinese sailors survived the submarine malfunction Freddy had just helped fix. “Yes, I am. Travel safe.”
“I’ll see you at the big meeting next Monday,” Renner called back before joining the parade, shuffling off the plane.
