Sarah Smiles

Picture this. Brendon, his ear pressed against her stomach, listening to her empty womb. She gets up and walks to the toilet, pulls out a hidden pregnancy test, pees on it and waits. Three minutes, she has to endure three gruelling minutes before she is told once again that she is not pregnant. She wraps the test in toilet paper and throws it away. Back to the bedroom, to try again. Of course, Brendon doesn’t know that. Brendon thinks the job is already done.

It’s only a matter of time before he notices her model stomach is still flat. That her small breasts have yet to grow. It’s only a matter of time before he finds out it’s all a lie. So she eats, she eats like a pig. Try to put on some weight and if that doesn’t work, she’ll have a miscarriage. She’s got it all planed out. If one plan fails, she always has another to back it up.
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Now picture this. Sarah, naked bouncing up and down on the lap of some man she only met a couple of hours ago. Dark hair, dark eyes. He was the one who looked the most like Brendon. They were on the stool of the piano that Brendon had brought her. This is not the normal behaviour of Sarah; she wasn’t one for one night stands. Well, at least she never used to be. He doesn’t care when she screams out Brendon’s name. He’s just using her anyway, they’re using each other. They finish, and she tells him to get out. He leaves without questioning. Still naked she goes to the bathroom, falls to the tiled floor and cries. She misses him, Brendon.

There’s a knock on the door. She looks at her watch. The small hand points to twelve, the big hand points to thirty. Ryan. Checking up on her, making sure she hasn’t killed herself. She tells him every day that she’s not depressed, that she doesn’t want to end her life. That she’s fine. But Ryan worries, and Sarah wasn’t one to deny one of the only people who gave her affection and cared about her a sense of security.

She rubs her eyes, puts on her bathrobe and opens the door with a fake smile plastered to her face.

“I’m still alive.”

He steps in, letting out his held breath.

“You’ve been crying.” He points out.

Ryan can see right through her smile. Her bottom lip is pulled down baring her bottom teeth. That’s how he knows she’s faking it.

She closes the door and turns to him. He can see her lips quivering as she tries with all her might to not allow the smile to break. “No I haven’t.” Her voice shakes, and her eyes suddenly glaze with water. Her façade is crumbling. Ryan sighs stepping over to her, pulling her into his embrace and then she breaks.

Ryan holds her, gripping her for dear life making sure she doesn’t fall apart. Every cry that comes from her mouth pierces through his skin, every sob cutting him deeper. What hurt Ryan the most was that he couldn’t fix her, he could only make sure she didn’t fall apart. The only person who could fix her had not spoken to her for two months; the only person who could fix her left her. She had no cure.

Her muffled voice spoke. “Ryan, don’t leave me. Don’t leave me like he left me.”

“I won’t. I promise.”