Auburn Sarah

When the leaves on the trees around the family home turned pink, at the beginning of Spring, it was the reminder for my mother that another year passed, without her knowing what had happened to her daughter.

This continued for years, every Spring, ever since we as a family had been torn apart by an event 30 years ago. The mysterious disappearance of my sister at the age of 17.

I grew up in a big household. I am the oldest. I have two younger sisters Deliah and Sarah. Then my youngest sibling Neville. He was a little slow, and behind for his age.

When we were kids, my mother was still with my father. My father was a man of few words. Sitting stern faced at the head of the dining table. Maybe a grunt of acknowledgement if he was impressed by something we’d done at school that day. Or a few words to my mother if he liked the food. During our childhood we never went hungry. No sooner were we through the door, before the aroma of mash potatoes, a stew or lamb roast, filled our nostrils.

I remember it vividly, the day before the disappearance. I arrived home from my job, my toolbox in hand. I’d graduated high school three years before. I greeted my mum, got changed then sat on the couch next to Neville who was playing Gameboy in the lounge area which was next to the kitchen. Deliah and Sarah were still in high school. The older sister in her final year, and Sarah not far behind her a year level below. Deliah walked into the kitchen, just as Sarah was setting the table. Sarah looked up, like she was expecting Deliah to argue with her.

“Oh, what is it now?” Sarah asked. “You’re mad because you got a D on your English test?”

“That’s not why I’m angry with you.”

“You’re mad because you didn’t get into the gymnastics comp?”

“You’ve always been a princess, even if you did badly mum would still reward you,” Deliah responded.

“Tell me then, how mum and dad, pulled you unconscious, after you had,” Sarah trailed off. As it was interrupted by my mother loudly clearing her throat and speaking.

“Not this circus again, behave the both of you.” My mother took a nervous look at a wall clock. “Don’t cause trouble for your father, he’ll be home soon.” She rushed off, putting on an apron and disappearing into a room, wooden spoon in her hand.

Deliah never liked the way Sarah spoke down to her. Because Deliah was the older one. I was looking over at them and their bickering reminded me of arguments I had overheard mum and dad having at the time. Our parents had always argued but it seemed to be getting worse. The night carried on, much as it always had done. I went to bed early, because of an early morning start. Our parents watched their television shows. Sarah helped Neville with his homework, as we, the three siblings did on rotation. The next night Sarah was gone. She didn’t return back from her evening gymnastics class. “I never should have allowed Sarah to catch the bus that night, I’ve seen the types of men who ride the bus at that time,” my mother had said. But Sarah was determined to be independent, having caught the bus for a few years.

I can only imagine, as I wasn’t at the school at the time, what my other siblings would have faced in school, after the nightly news reported her disappearance. Described as a 17-year-old female with hazel eyes and auburn hair. They’d have entered their class, surrounded by whispers and murmurs of speculation. And Neville, who was already prone to teasing, because of his learning difficulties, was eventually bullied because of his sister’s disappearance. The speculation continued for a while. If there was a report about a body being found, we checked, or we agonised over every possible theory. From kidnap, running away, to murder. However, with time and no clues as to where Sarah was, the news reports and media speculation eventually stopped.

Several years later, I was living independently and going steady with my girlfriend for a year and a half. I had returned to the family home for a brief time. The whole house felt different, almost like a numb sensation. I was heading down the stairs, from my old upstairs bedroom in the morning when I saw my mother, she greeted me then said, “It’s Spring again, where is Sarah?” By this time, it had become a quiet realisation, rather than an acceptance, that Sarah was probably dead. Not that we wanted to admit it. I decided to change the subject.

“Why isn’t dad home from work? I notice you’re not wearing your wedding ring anymore.”

“Your father is living with your uncle for now.” She trailed off.

I didn’t press her for more information on that.

I had spent the rest of the day, looking over the house, and noting repairs I would do in the future. Towards the evening, I was at the top of the stairs. Deliah stepped out of her bedroom, she saw me, then turned back around slamming her bedroom door behind her. Ever since the disappearance we had a bit of a strained relationship between us. I think Delilah felt a bit bad about arguing with Sarah the night before it happened.

Sitting at the dinner table later, just mum and I having dinner. Mum was now sitting where my father used to sit, at the head of the table. I looked over at where Sarah use to sit. It was empty, every night was a reminder of her absence. Neville had come into the kitchen, collected his plate, then went to sit alone with it, on the couch.

“Why is Deliah not coming down for dinner?” I asked.

“Because she’ll be at her friend’s house tonight.”

“How’s Neville?”

“He’s enjoying his new school.”

Given my father was ‘away’, I decided to stay a few extra nights with mum and Neville. Delilah wasn’t around so much.

The next day after Delilah and I washed up dishes from lunch we found mum inside Sarah’s bedroom, cleaning. The bedroom was left as it had been when Sarah was last there.

There was that school photo still there in the frame. Smiling face, auburn hair, hazel eyes.

“Hey mum, what are you doing?” I asked.

“Just dusting, rearranging some things in here.”

“Oh?” Delilah said.

“You know, for when she comes back.”

Delilah and I exchanged confused looks and my mother continued.

“I don’t care what she’s done, if she’s run away, I’m not mad at her, I just want her back.”

“But mum, it’s been six years,” I said.

“I know, I know, please. I’m keeping it tidy for her.”

“Yeah, that’s nice mum,” Delilah said, then we left mum to it.

I was now married, and had been for a few years and was going to be a father. Mum and dad came separately to my wedding. One day I was at a café on the other side of town, doing some electrical work in their kitchen, and as I walked back to my car to get some tools I glimpsed a woman walking away holding a coffee from this business. The sunny day highlighted the colour of her hair. The auburn colour. I did a double take but by then the woman was already gone.

When my son was 6, I received a phone call from my mother. She had received a letter posted to the family home. “I could barely believe my eyes, Sheamus, it’s a letter from Sarah.”

“What? Oh my gosh, really? She’s okay! What did it say, what did it say?”

“It says

Dear Mum, Dad, Sheamus, Delilah and Neville.

I don’t know if you are still at this address. Nor do I know if everyone is living at home. I am okay. I’m so sorry I left home.”

My mother pauses, and I can hear her take a shaky breath then continues,

“I was 17 and ran away. I was embarrassed to come back for a long time. That’s why I am only now writing to you. I’m really sorry for all the stress I caused to you all. I want to see everyone again soon. Please email me at my address below so I know you received this. Then I will come back to see you all.

Sarah.”

“I can’t believe it mum, does dad know? He should be there.”

“Yes of course, I called him straight away. He was beside himself. I will call Delilah next and Neville is home with me so he already knows.”

We had our reunion on the front steps of the family home.

A female in her 30s appeared around the corner, and her auburn hair shone. My mum had been emotional during the whole reunion, my brother Neville bowled Sarah over. We all hugged, teared up, laughed, studied each other to see how we had changed over the years. My mother cupped Sarah’s face in her hands and said, “Our girl is back.” My father squeezed her shoulder.

Sarah apologised for running away.

She told us nobody kidnapped her, nobody molested her. She wasn’t raped, she wasn’t hurt by anyone. As to what she’d been up to all those years, she didn’t say, only adding.

“I live in an apartment and I am in a relationship with a woman.”

We didn’t press her for more details on her past, though we were curious.

We expected lots of questions from Sarah but she had few to ask of our lives.

Eventually she met my wife and child, and found out about my parent’s divorce.

So here I am, several years after this reunion. It is a Spring day, the pink leaves are at their fullest.

I am walking in the neighbourhood and I see a noticeboard which I know of. I see a new notice, it is a recent missing person’s photo. This reminds me of that day 30 years ago when my family were thrust into that situation. I hope the family of this person finds their relative.