Page 57 of Back to Me

“Sara, what’s wrong?” Confused, I reach for her hand again, but she pulls away again. Her eyes are still steeled to the flower painting, her mouth pressed into a flat line.

Hearing sounds from across the room, I look back to the entrance of the exhibit and watch as people begin to pour in. I briefly search the crowd for Cam and Em, knowing they should be here soon.

Despite the increasing crowds, the room suddenly fills with an ear-piercing silence. Turning back to Sara, she’s staring at me now. Anger no longer fills her glassy green eyes. Instead, her eyes are filled with immense sadness—soul-crushing, heartbroken sadness.

“My name,” she says. Her voice quakes with every syllable that passes her purple-red mouth, and I’m confused.

“Your name?” Ignoring her comment, I reach for her hand, urging for her to follow me in the direction of the growing crowd. “Come on, everyone’s starting to arrive.”

“My name, Graham,” she repeats louder. Ripping her wrist from my grip, she looks at me with sad eyes. “My name isn’t on any of the paintings.”

Shaking my head, I scoff. What is she talking about?

Convinced she must be reading them wrong, I turn back around to the flower painting. I find the small plaque in the corner and point at it, turning back to Sara. “Look, Sara. Your name is right—" I’m reading the plaque as the words fall from my mouth, but suddenly, I stop talking. My voice is caught in the middle of my throat, the words burning as if I’m swallowing a red-hot chunk of coal.

I read the plaque once more, convinced I’m somehow reading it wrong as if the letters will magically appear out of thin air. Cerulean Hibiscus by Graham Ward

“What…?” Leaving Sara standing there, I quickly walk over to the nearest collaborative piece I can find and read the plaque. Dallas Skyline by Graham Ward

Raking my fingers through my hair, I look around the room in disbelief. “No,” I mutter to myself. “This has to be a mistake.”

I find Sara crossing the room, heading toward the exit. Why is she leaving? People begin filling the room, and before I’m able to chase after her, I hear my sister’s voice calling my name.

“Graham!” Through the crowd of people, I can’t find her, I can only see Cam’s head. Cam lifts his hand in the air, waving me over. Looking back toward the exit, I turn and make my way through the sea of people, leaving my sister and brother-in-law behind, hoping to find Sara. Before I’m able to exit the room, a hand wraps around my arm, stopping me.

“This is quite an exhibit you have here, Graham.”

All the blood drains from my face, and my eyes spread wide looking at the man standing in front of me. Behind him, my sister and Cam emerge from a small group of people gathered near the middle of the room. I’m filled with anger and frustration as I watch Em mouth the words, “I’m sorry.” My eyes turn from my sister to the man before me.

“Dad,” I choke out.

He doesn’t smile. He doesn’t move. He keeps his hands buried into the pockets of his stiff khaki pants. “Like I said, you’ve got quite an exhibit here.” Glancing around the room, he adds, “Where’s Sara? I’d like to congratulate her.”

Backing away, I shake my head and point at my father. “You shouldn’t be here. I want you to leave. Now.”

Without looking back, I quickly turn around, refusing to deal with my father and question his reasons for being here.

As soon as I cross the threshold into the hallway, my mind flurries into a panic. Worry and fear of what Sara must be thinking weigh heavily on me, and suddenly, it feels like I’ve been punched in the gut.

She didn’t even wait for me to explain, for me to figure out why her name wasn’t listed when I was promised it would be.

I stumble through the hallway, searching for the woman in the yellow dress, and find her just as she’s making her way to the parking lot. Her long dress flows behind her, the fabric of the train whipping across the dull, grey concrete. Her hands are balled into fists as she races to the parking lot.

She’s a spark, a glimmer of light beneath the glowing night sky, and I’m left breathless, standing in the shadows.

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