Page 47 of Breadwinner
Sarah sighed, exhausted but unwilling to let it show. “What a day.” She cocked her head toward the door Lily had left partially open. “Come on in.”
Sarah didn’t say anything to Beth as she kicked off her shoes and disappeared down the hallway to change. She needed the minute to compartmentalize her thoughts and find a more neutral version of herself before she stepped back into the tension waiting downstairs.
When she returned, barefoot, in comfy joggers and a worn quarter-zip, Beth was moving around the kitchen, her back to the door. She stopped in the doorway, simply to watch the way Beth moved around the space like she belonged there.
Beth had always been beautiful—open-faced, bright-eyed, with a presence that made you feel like you could finally take a deep breath and just be—but there was something new that had bloomed over the last few years. A deeper self-assurance. It looked good on her.
For a brief, foolish second, Sarah let herself pretend this was just another Tuesday night, with Beth waiting for her at home, ready to debrief at the end of their day like they had done a thousand times before. But that life of theirs was gone.
As Sarah entered, she asked, “What are you making?”
Beth turned, a plate in hand and that adorable smile Sarah used to love melting into at the end of a long day spread across her face. “Cinnamon toast. I know it’s your favorite after days like today.”
Oof.Yup, that cut her like a blade, clean and quiet. A reminder of just how well Beth knew her. She nodded, taking the plate from her, biting into the toast. Warm melted butter hither senses before she moved toward the living room and lowered herself onto the couch.
Beth took the other end, like always.
“So.” Beth turned slightly, her elbow on the back cushion. “How was the call with Wren’s aunt?”
Sarah didn’t respond. Just took another bite of her toast, using chewing to buy herself an extra moment. “I mean, you know how she is.” She gave Beth a knowing look.
Each of them had dealt with Wren’s aunt several times over the last year since Lily and Wren had become friends. “I’ve never met someone more self-centered. She didn’t seem particularly concerned about Wren. She said she had already called her sister and told her everything, and that the faster she could get Wren out of her house, the better. I had Avery go over and pick up Wren’s things.” She sighed, rubbing her face. “I just don’t get it. Why do people go through all the trouble of having kids if they don’t plan on loving them unconditionally?” Her chest heaved. She hadn’t even been aware of how worked up she had gotten. “And then, you know, of course, it’s Wren. She’s like Bambi. She’s scared and unsure what comes next. You know how some kids hold it all in until they break?”
Beth’s expression softened. “Yeah.”
“She broke today, and it was awful.” Sarah’s voice caught on the last word. “But I’m glad she came to me.”
“You’ve always been good in a crisis, Sar,” Beth said gently. “You’re who I would go to if I needed help.”
The words landed harder than they should have. Sarah looked away, placing her empty plate on the coffee table.
“You remember when we came out?” Sarah asked. “You told your parents over dinner. I think your mom offered to knit you a rainbow sweater, and your dad was just thrilled you weren’t marrying a man.”
Beth laughed. “It was a scarf. She had it done in three days.”
“Right. Meanwhile, I told my mom, and she cried so hard she had to lie down. My dad told me I was confused and to not come home until I got my head on right. My grandmother sent me a rosary and a note that said ‘Try again.’”
Beth winced, remembering. “Yeah. That was brutal.”
“I didn’t speak to any of them for years. Not until Lily was born, after Dad passed.” She paused. “Everyone always makes coming out to be this celebratory experience—and don’t get me wrong, in so many ways, it is—but sometimes coming out doesn’t feel like a door opening. It feels like lighting a match and watching your life burn down while you wait and hope it can be rebuilt from the ashes.”
Beth reached out and placed a hand gently over Sarah’s, her thumb brushing lightly across her knuckles. “But look at you now. Look at what you’ve built in its place. And your mom came around after a while; now look at her. When your sister Kelly came out, your mom handled it so well.”
Sarah didn’t move her hand, but she didn’t look up either. “Yeah, she did. I just wish I could have had that experience.” She took a deep breath, resigning herself to the fact she’d known all along. “But that’s what I do, I guess. I’m steamroll-Sarah, paving the way for others to have it easier.” She let out a long sigh, flexing her fingers slightly to feel the softness of Beth’s hand in hers. “I wish I could fix this for Wren, but I can’t.”
“No, you can’t,” Beth said. “But you can give her the tools she needs to survive it, which you’re doing.”
They fell quiet again. Sarah’s hand still rested beneath Beth’s. It was such a small thing, but it was everything. A thousand memories were stitched into her touch. Twenty-five years of love, of friendship, of coparenting, of late nights nursing Lily through fevers, of breakup fights and soft apologies and things that never quite felt finished between them.
Beth squeezed her hand, rising from where she sat, walking toward the kitchen. She rinsed her glass, placing it upside down in the rack, like she had done a thousand times before.
Sarah turned her gaze toward the floor, grateful for the moment to regain her composure.
“So, what’s next?” Beth asked.
Sarah stood, moving toward the kitchen to place her empty plate in the sink.
“I still need to call Wren’s parents and let them know where she is. Tomorrow, I’ll pick Wren up from your house. We’re meeting with a family lawyer in the morning to go over her options, and then, if she chooses to file the emancipation petition, we’ll start that process.”