Page 60 of In Every Lifetime
Fai
Some moments don’t just pass, they carve themselves into you, permanent and unyielding. For most people, those memories begin in childhood. The glow of Christmas mornings, the quiet ache of losing someone dear. But every moment that ever seared itself into my mind, every memory that refused to fade, had one thing in common—they were all of Sarah.
Some moments were ones of joy, of pure light that reminded me why I woke up each day to face this cruel world. Then there were the hauntings, the memories that would always linger. The look on her face the first time I relapsed, the sound of her voice when she sat me down to explain she believed I had a problem, the tears she held back when I showed up at her house demanding to know why she had sent me divorce papers.
Demanding, as if I hadn’t been the one to initiate the end. While I didn’t go to the lawyer and file, I had purposefully pushed her away, hoping for that outcome. Yet when I showed up at her house, angry and upset, I was too drunk to remember it was what I had wanted—that my deliberate actions had forcedher hand, breaking both of our hearts and demolishing the last remnants of our marriage.
I sat up from my spot on the cave floor, my aching joints screaming.Who would’ve thought the ground wouldn’t make a great bed?I thought to myself sarcastically. I found my discarded clothes nearby and pulled them on slowly. Sarah was still asleep, soft breaths sweeping past her lips. We hadn’t meant to fall asleep after… well, after I’d been with her. The plan was only to wait out the rain until the path home cleared, but somewhere along the way, sleep found us.
Giving in to temptation with Sarah was a mistake.
No?No.
Being with Sarah was never a mistake, but it was a risk. I was barely in control of my own sobriety. I couldn’t risk losing it again. I wasn’t willing to lose it again.
I had lost everything to my addiction. I pushed away my friends and my family, stopped caring about my work or passions… I stopped caring about life, about living. More than once, I had accepted I was drinking myself to death. Sometimes, especially toward the end, I had hoped for it. I had lost everything to my addictions, but now I had my sobriety. It was all I had.
I didn’t even have my supposed brother anymore. It was all a lie. I was back to having no family… no one in this world.
I was back to being alone.
All I had left was my sobriety. Being with Sarah, in any capacity, threatened it.
I stood slowly and wandered out of the cave. It was early morning, maybe five a.m. by my estimates. The sun had yet to rise, and the sky remained a deep, unbroken black, but the rain had passed. The earth lay drenched, puddles glinting like quiet remnants of the storm. Luckily for us, the rain would havewashed away any evidence of where we had gone, protecting us from Gabriel’s anger and his eventual vengeance for our escape.
“Fai?” I heard her voice call softly behind me.
“Out here,” I answered, stuffing my hands into my pockets. It was a chilly morning, and my lack of gear made the cold bite harder. We needed to get out of these woods, and quickly. While we could survive a night, neither of us was built to last much longer.
I heard Sarah behind me and the rustling of clothes. It wasn’t right of me to let her wake up alone. I wanted to be better than that, but I was terrified. It felt safer to put distance between us.
“What time is it?” Sarah asked as she stepped out of the cave to stand next to me. We were both an absolute mess, yet she was still beautiful. Her braids were messy, with small strands of hair fighting to be free, and she had swipes of dirt on her face. I resisted the urge to wipe her cheeks clean and steal a bit more of her warmth.
Instead of closing the distance, I shrugged and looked toward where the sun would soon rise. “I think around five. We should head out and try to find that property to get help.”
Sarah watched me for a moment. I could see her chocolate-brown eyes analyzing me in my peripheral vision. I braced for her to question me—to wonder what would become of us or ask why I had all but run out of that cave the moment I woke up. Yet, the questions never came. Instead, she nodded and gestured forward.
“Lead the way. Let’s get out of here.”
It was a long, slow trek to the property, the mud squishing into our socks and making each step heavier. I knew our feet had to be worse for wear, but we had no choice but to keep walking toward what we hoped was safety. The sun crested over the mountain just as we entered the clearing. We were both huffing for breath, our legs exhausted from the hike.
We walked tentatively toward the cabin in the center of the clearing. It stood in silence, the windows dark and no smoke curling from the chimney. This cabin bore none of the pretense of Gabriel’s. It was older, more weathered, its wood marked by years of wear. And yet, in every worn beam and softened edge, there lingered the quiet trace of something well-loved. Thinking back, it was obvious that Gabriel’s cabin was missing the touch of a home. It was built for renters, not for him—whoever he was.
“Do you think anyone’s home?” I asked as Sarah approached the porch. I stayed back on the walkway as she reached the door.
She looked back at me and shrugged before closing the distance to the door, where she gave three heavy knocks. I looked around the property while we waited. It appeared empty; the grass was overgrown and a layer of dirt coated the porch. I strained to see around the side of the house where an old truck sat. It was beat-up and probably older than me, but I knew I could get it going.
I started toward the truck, accepting that no one was here, as Sarah called after me, “Where do you think you’re going? What if someone’s here?”
I waved her off as I circled the vehicle. It was likely a work truck used only for the property, but it seemed well-maintained. I knew some work vehicles were never locked and keys were often left in the visor; I prayed to whatever god there may be that such was the case here.
I laid my hand on the cool metal of the handle and said a silent prayer before pulling. It seemed that, for once in my life, I’d caught a stroke of luck… it opened with a click.
“Hell yeah,” I mumbled, pulling the door open as Sarah gasped in the distance. I looked at her with a smile as she walked toward me, hope in her eyes.
“Are there any keys?” she asked, closing the distance quickly.
“Let’s find out.” I slid into the driver’s seat and scanned the cab. I pulled the visor down, but had no luck finding the keys.
