Chapters (16)
It’s enough, Sarah had said.
She didn’t know if Leda had heard her. Leda had hurled herself toward the sand and done five cartwheels after all. Then she lowered herself to the ground. She knelt for about a minute with her eyes closed. She did a slow and perfect headstand.
It’s enough, Sarah had repeated, louder now. But Leda didn’t come down. She was standing on her head and, from the looks of things, could have stayed that way for the rest of the afternoon.
It’s time to come home.
Leda folded her legs into her body and slowly, effortlessly, sat upright again. Please, Sarah had said. Just please.
Please, what?
You think you’re the only person who craves escape? Sarah cried. Sweetie, you are not.
Leda laughed.
Sarah sat down next to her in the warm sand. You know what Spanish expression I love? Sarah picked up the sand and let it run through her fingers. Mi vida. “My life.” People say it the way we say honey or sweetie. Pass the salt, my life. Call me when you get there, my life. It’s so much more honest. English endearments are about sweetness, which is ridiculous. Because “my life” is what we really mean, at least with our children.
I wasn’t aware you spoke Spanish, Leda said bitingly.
You aren’t sweet. And neither am I.
We’re not the same.
I’m not saying we are. I’m saying you are my life.
You’re saying we’re the same. You think we are. And I can’t believe you think it’s some big secret that you crave escape.
I’ll tell you anything you want to know. I’ll always tell you anything.
But, Mom. Leda turned toward Sarah and, in one terrifying moment, stared her down. I don’t want it. I want to be separate. Then Leda fixed her focus on the waves, which were closing out on the shoreline.
I’m staying here, Leda finally said.
These people. Leda, these people are unhinged.
These people are fine. I’m happy. I invited you here to tell you that. So you could let me go. You’ve got to let me go.
Never.
But Sarah had flown back to New York and returned to her life, which was the life of their family, which wasn’t a family without their daughter. She was forty-eight years old. Leda was twenty-four.