A little boy caught Sienna’s attention, breaking her from the recollection that had tears burning the backs of her eyes. God, it’d been a long time since she’d let herself get so fully immersed in a memory. The child ran from the side of one of the trailers and ducked behind a tree, holding his hand over his mouth as though to keep himself from laughing out loud as three other children turned the same corner he had, each ducking behind a tree or the side of a porch. They were playing hide-and-go-seek. Mirabelle had never let them play that particular game. It’d made her nervous, she’d said, that one of them would hide somewhere and get trapped. And she’d looked genuinely distraught when she’d said it, so Sienna and Gavin had obeyed. At least while she was home. Sienna’s lips tipped slightly, and she swallowed her emotion down as she watched the innocent game play out, the “finder” making the others howl with glee as he located them. These kids were young still. They lived and played with optimistic joy. They weren’t old enough yet to realize that others would look down on them for where they came from. They weren’t self-conscious of their secondhand clothes or their parents’ broken-down car that would likely backfire in the carpool lane and make others nearby dive for the bushes in fear that a lunatic was firing a weapon into the crowd.
Sienna’s smile melted as she reminded herself she’d be better served to stop projecting her own insecurities and cringe-inducing memories onto these children. Maybe they’d be strong enough not to define themselves by where they came from. Maybe their parents—though poor—gave a damn about them. Maybe they have mothers like Mirabelle and not like my own.
She made a pained sound of frustration in the back of her throat, turning the key in the ignition and starting her car. She didn’t have time for this right now, nor was it helpful. Why she had come here, she really had no clue, other than maybe to prove to herself she could. So, fine, now she had seen it, faced it, survived it, and she could go on with her life, knowing that though it now sat closer, it still had no real power over her. It was only a place. It did not live and breathe.
She turned her car, stomping on the gas so that her tires spun, and a billow of dust exploded in a grainy cloud behind her.
If it doesn’t live and breathe, then why are you racing away as though it might find a way to chase you? But she pushed the whisper down, knowing there was no good answer.