Too Late

All her life, Sarah wanted people to take her seriously. To say, Hey, that's a great idea! or Wow! You're smart. That's exactly right. Even an I hear what you're saying would have been welcomed. But people never did, or if they did, she didn't hear it. Because she was too inwardly drawn, too concentrated on what people thought of her or what people might think of her. Sarah focused on the negative what could bes instead of the positive what ifs. And sadly, she never learned that governing oneself by what ifs wasn't really the best choice anyway. At this point, well into her life and probably onto the latter half of it, she'd never learned the lesson. But it wasn't too late, was it?

I grabbed onto that thought as I sat next to her in the heat of the car, my thighs stuck to the pleather seats, thoughts turning circles in my mind. I wasn't sure how to help this lady. She had no courage to face up to her fears, and because she lacked that quality, I knew there would be no way to make her understand my point of view. That if she just looked a single fear straight into the eyes and conquered it, she might be free. It was a simple statement, and of course easier said than done, but one in which I truly believed.

"You should do it." I turned my head to look out the dusty car window. I wasn't sure what I was looking for, just that I needed to set my gaze on something. Anything more stable than the woman sitting next to me.

Sarah continued to stare through the windshield as she answered me. "I can't. There's no way. I just can't."

With a tired breath, I blew up at the limp bangs that hung on my forehead and moved my body closer to her. Maybe if I invaded her space, she'd hear what I had to say this time. "What's the worst that can happen?"

"Don't say that!" Her hand slammed against the steering wheel and she shot a deathly look my way before puffing a bit of air out her nose. An image of an ornery bull took root in my mind and refused to budge.

"It's true. What's the worst that can happen?"

Sarah sat for a moment, pondering my words, probably imagining any number of horrific outcomes. I knew for a fact that none of what she could come up with would be good, positive. She wasn't built that way.

"The worst? You want me to tell you the worst thing that can happen?" Her voice shook and she was shouting at me. The shriek reverberated off the sides of the car and sailed directly into my ear. I didn't dare put my window down; she'd be furious and then I'd have to deal with the rage of this woman plus the influx of heat and humidity.

"Uh, yeah. Tell me." I leaned back in the seat and waited for the answer I anticipated. She did not disappoint.

"They can tell me that I have it. That I have the disease." Her voice was almost a whisper this time and she spat the word disease as if she could taste the bitterness of each individual letter.

"And?"

"And then, I'd go through life worrying about whether or not I would get it. Even if I don't have it right now."

"Aw shit, Sarah," I said as I hung my head, shaking it with sorrow. "That's not a good idea." There...I did the same thing she expected me to do, just like all the rest of the people in her life. But I had something else to say, too. "You already march through life like that. Half-living instead of full-on living. You hide your head at almost every opportunity and refuse to try new things. Because you're scared." Now, I was the one who yelled, the pulse in my forehead growing stronger and beating faster with every word. "That is not the worst that can happen!"

"Well what is? Tell me, Naomi, what is?" Sarah turned her bright blue eyes toward me, and they shimmered in the afternoon sun, the tears poised to spill at any moment. Had she really not thought this through? Or was she asking me to tell her as a way to help her stay accountable? I didn't know.

"That you don't get tested and that you pass on the disease to your daughters. YOUR FOUR DAUGHTERS. And then...then you've ruined not just one life, but five. FIVE. How about that for being a worst case scenario?" My skin felt as though an army of angry ants walked on top of it and I suppressed an overwhelming urge to escape the car; it was traveling at 60 miles per hour, and while I wasn't always the sunniest person, I certainly didn't harbor a death wish.

The silence that enveloped the car became deafening. What did I want Sarah to say? Did I hope that she would inform me that she'd call the doctor in the morning and go in to get tested? She might utter those words, in her mind truly meaning them, but I knew better. Even if Sarah said she'd do something, she wouldn't. She feared that doctor and making that call almost as much as she feared having the disease. Unless she could get past that feeling, she might as well be talking to the wall.

I shook my head again, sweat beading on my forehead. I sat there, speechless for the first time in my life. What could I say to convince her to do what I thought was the right thing? If the health and well-being of her own daughters didn't give her an incentive to vanquish the demon, then there was nothing. Absolutely nothing for me to say or do. For it wasn't my choice, it was hers. Her life, her genes, her DNA, her hesitations, her inability to see how selfish she was being. In protecting herself, she was hurting someone else.

But I knew she'd never see it that way. Sarah never had. I watched the sun begin to set on the horizon, the tangerine glow fading slowly to a burnt sienna. The farther we drove, the darker it became, and I knew that soon, sleep would claim me. Right before I shut my eyelids for the night, I realized what this trip signified. Sarah was running away, trying to flee a future that truthfully, was already one step ahead of her. I wiped a tear away as the truth hit me, full force: it was too late.

For her, but not for me.

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