Page 29 of Sawyer

Suddenly, out of nowhere, an old memory resurfaces, and though I try to push it away, I find I can’t.

My father stands over my mother’s grave, with Reeve in his arms. I stand between Hunter and Harper, each of them holding one of my little hands. Tanner and Parker, also hand in hand, stand across the grave from us, between Gran and Paw-Paw. We are a blur of black clothing and tears.

I blink my burning eyes and look down at my script.

“How did she die?” I bite out in whispered anguish to Nelly. “Like a bloody saint?” A mewling sob escapes my throat. “Did she…did she mention my name? Even one time?” Ivy’s engagement ring catches the light of an overhead bulb, and the brightness blinds me for a nasty split second. I growl with anger, with pain. When I dare speak again, my voice is so low, so menacing, the gravel of it scratches my throat. “I pray oneprayer—I repeat it till my tongue stiffens—Catherine Earnshaw, may you not rest as long as I am living; you said I killed you—haunt me, then! The murdered haunt their murderers, I believe. I know that ghostshavewandered on earth. So, be with me always—take any form—drive me mad! Onlydonot leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh god! It is unutterable! It is unbearable. Ic-cannotlive without my life! Ic-cannotlive w-without my…my soul!”

I close my eyes, clenching them tightly shut as my forehead lowers onto my open script. There are no more lines prefaced by the name HEATHCLIFF. I can rest for a moment now.

It takes a few seconds of deep breathing for me to realize that the stage is silent.

No one else is running scenes or reading lines.

My eyes pop open, and I realize that Ivy’s weight is no longer resting on my back. Straightening into a sitting position, I find everyone looking at me,staring at me, in awe.

Reeve, who peeks at me from behind Bruce, has tears streaming down her face. I think of baby Reeve beside a grave, held fast in my father’s strong arms. Why does it feel so recent? So immediate?

I love you, I mouth to her. I don’t say it enough.

I love you, too, she mouths back, mustering a teary smile for me.

“My god,” hisses Bruce, his wide eyes transfixed on my face. “That…was…a…tour de force! BRAVO, Sawyer Stewart! BRAVO!”

Suddenly, the whole stage explodes in applause, but there’s only one face, besides my sister’s, that I am desperate to see. I bend my knees and pivot on my butt to find Ivy staring at me with an incalculable look.

Wonder. Admiration. Confusion. Fascination.

I feel the tether that connects her to me and me to her.

Does she feel it too?

She finally registers that I’m staring back at her.

Her eyes alight on mine.

And she smiles.

***

Ivy

I’m shook.

My face is smiling at him, but my body is agitated in a way that feels desperate, visceral. Is it longing? Or repulsion? Or something else entirely?

Only one thing is certain—my childhood friend, my sometimes hook-up and one-time lover, Sawyer Stewart, is all grown up. Only a grown man could play Heathcliff with such gravity of feeling.

“What’s going on?”

He’s speaking to me. He’s looking for an explanation.

“What?”

“Why is everyone clapping?”

I wipe away the wetness on my cheeks and clear my throat. He’s not putting me on. He’s truly confused.

My smile deepens, and my body relaxes. “Becausethatwas amazing.”

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