Becoming Sarah

chapter TWELVE


The driver cleared his throat. "You said St. Michael's, lady, didn't you?"

"Sorry." I paid him, got out, and walked slowly toward the church's front stoop.

Inside, I glanced around. I'd never seen so many people here, not even at the Christmas Eve service we'd attended once. I recognized maybe two thirds of them. All my teachers were here, and a lot of my classmates. I nearly raised my hands to cover my face, to hide from them; I kept forgetting they wouldn't know me. I felt like an intruder, somehow.

There was my mother, near the front pews. Aunt Janelle stood protectively on one side of her, Maria on the other. My mother wore black wool pants and a too-small jacket, one she'd bought herself last Christmas. She'd put on weight since then. I had to clench my teeth against the pain of seeing her look shabby. Quick tears sprang to my eyes.

As I watched, she bowed her head. Her shoulders slumped forward. Aunt Janelle put an arm around her, and my mother leaned heavily against her friend. I wanted so much to go to her at that moment. I wanted to make it okay. She didn't need to go through this. She didn't need to grieve for me.

I took two steps forward. At that moment, Maria looked up and saw me. Her face registered shock, then anger. Detective Todd said she'd complained about me. No one would make a scene today, would they? What would they do, toss me out?

I stood frozen as Maria touch Mom's arm and whispered something into her ear. They both turned to glare at me. I lowered my eyes and refused to meet theirs. When I looked back, they'd turned their backs on me. I breathed a sigh of relief, but my stomach was in knots. They knew me now, and thought I was some crazy woman with a weird fixation. How the heck was I supposed to get close enough, now, to convince them of the truth?

I moved slowly down the aisle, always careful to keep my distance from my mother. The crowd parted around me, and I saw it: the casket.

Oh, God. That was me in there, dead. I'd only seen a couple of bodies in my life -- my grandmother's, and one of my mother's co-workers. The co-worker I'd never met, and my grandmother I barely knew; she'd lived in Chicago and had more or less disowned my mother years ago. I'd viewed their bodies with a sort of morbid fascination.

This was different. I'd figured the coffin would be closed, but it wasn't. I couldn't stand to look and yet I knew I needed to. I needed to see my old body to know this was real. Closure, they called it on the talk shows.

I got in line.

The line moved slowly, too slowly for me. Irritation twisted up inside me. Look at these people, here to gawk. They paused in front of the casket. Some of them gasped, others broke down and sobbed. I wanted to get up in front of them and shout, "I'm not dead, you idiots!"

When it was my turn, I closed my eyes as I stepped forward. I couldn't look, and then I did.

Me. Jamie Lumley. Still and pale, pancake makeup layered on my cheekbone where Ricky hit me.

My body wore an outfit I'd never liked, a long flowered skirt and a white turtleneck sweater. The turtleneck to hide the bruises, I supposed. My hand went involuntarily to my neck -- Sarah's neck.

I wasn't as homely as I'd thought. That's what surprised me most. From the outside, looking down at my own face, I could see that I had nice eyelashes, a dark pretty fringe curving on my cheeks. My hair wasn't bad, either -- more red than brown against the white pillow, thick and shiny. Oh, but had my body always been so lumpy and awkward, so clumsy? After only three days I'd grown used to Sarah's graceful silhouette.

Still, I felt a wave of affection and pity for the body in the casket. I'd lived 16 years in that body. I'd felt pleasure inside it, as well as pain. I’d had chicken pox and the occasional flu, and once I’d broken my ankle, but otherwise I’d been healthy. More importantly, this was the body of the person my mother loved. This is the body that came from hers.

How strange to think it would go in the ground now. How strange to think that it would rot away, while I went on living.

I’d stood too long, looking down at my own face.

I moved away, toward the back of the church. People were taking their seats now. I slid into a back pew, between a man I didn’t know and my fourth grade teacher. Mrs. Pettigrew, that was her name. She’d always liked me; she let me erase the board for her every day after lunch.

The service began with a priest I didn’t know. He read a bible verse and went on for a while about God’s will. After a few minutes, I tuned him out. I couldn’t quite believe some big guy in the sky wanted Ricky’s hands around my neck. What purpose was there in that? Was I supposed to end up here, in Sarah’s body? But if so, why didn’t He just speak up and explain His reasoning?

Maria stood up to speak first. She took out her notes and smoothed them on the podium. Even from the back of the church, I could see that her hands shook.

“Jamie was my best friend,” she said, and had to stop because she was sobbing too hard.

A lump grew in my throat. I balled my hands into fists; my nails cut into my palms. Maria pushed on: “I first met Jamie the summer after fifth grade. She was sitting by herself in the park, reading a book. I’d taken my little nephew there to play. I put him on the slide about a million times, and every time I looked up this girl with the book was watching us. Finally I asked her if she wanted one of our cookies. She said yes, and we started talking and everything. It turned out we were both going to the same middle school next year.”

Maria paused and took a deep breath. “Jamie was the sweetest and best person I’ve ever known. If you were her friend she would do anything for you. Whenever I forgot my lunch she made me eat half of hers. If I didn’t understand something in my homework, she explained it again and again until I did.”

She was really crying now, and so was I. “Jamie was so loyal. Once when another girl started talking trash about me when I wasn’t there, Jamie got up and walked out of the room she was so mad. She was hella smart, too. She got almost straight A’s. When I didn’t want to study she got all upset at me and said I had to go to college to keep her company.” Maria wiped her eyes. “I don’t think I’ll ever know anyone as good Jamie ever again. Ever.”

I don’t think there was anyone in the church who didn’t have tears streaming down their face. The hurt in the room overwhelmed me, to the point I almost forgot I wasn’t really dead. To them, I was. To Maria, I was. And at that moment I was having trouble believing she’d ever change her mind.

Maria stepped down. There were other people lining up to say something, but I couldn’t stand it anymore. I got up and stumbled out of the church.