Free A Silence of Mockingbirds by Karen Spears Zacharias Page B

times in a person’s life. After Sarah e-mailed God and everybody and
told them about being honored by
Glamour
magazine, her former pals
at Par 3 sucked on filtered cigarettes and discussed the matter over glasses
of chilled Chardonnay and foamy beer.
    “Have a seat,” Lee said, scooting to the right and offering me the
chair next to Gina. Pam sat at the far end, opposite Lee now. I don’t
think anyone ever introduced me to the squatty fellow sitting directly
across from me.  The regulars had seen me earlier, talking with Eric.
Who’s the new chick? What’s she want?
    I put down the notebook and told them about how I knew Sarah. Invited them
to ask any questions they wanted. They didn’t have any.
    Lee, a Desert Storm veteran, looked more poet than soldier in his
long black wool overcoat and rocker hair the color of barbwire. Lee ran
around with Shawn’s brother Kevin back in the day, before that nearly
forgotten war, and before Kevin overdosed.
    “We’d raise hell together,” Lee said. “Shawn’s parents were the nicest
people. If we were at their house, his mom would bring us sandwiches
and Shawn would yell at her to take them away. I asked him once, why
do you treat your parents so badly? His parents were so nice, but Shawn
was a fat, spoiled, rotten kid. A really horrible guy. He was nuts.”
    Lee knew Sarah, too, from her bartending days. “She wasn’t a bad
person,” he said. “Just somebody who made bad choices. She was always
the same weak girl, a heavy gambler.”   
    How had Sarah’s gambling problem escaped me all these years?
“So you ladies belong to the Sand Tramps?” I asked. Sarah had
pulled together the all-girls league. Gina nodded. Even in the dead of
winter, Gina has the honey glow of someone who spends a lot of time
in the sun, planting flowers, pulling weeds. “Matt, that’s my husband,
would take care of Karly a lot,” Gina said. “Our daughter Mia and Karly
were playmates.”
    “What kind of mom was Sarah?” I asked.
    “I love Sarah to death but she was not cut out to be a mom,” Gina
said. “Sarah treated Karly more like a possession than a daughter. She
wanted Karly to have the best clothes; she was all about that trendy
stuff. She liked to show Karly off but she wasn’t about spending time
with Karly. Moms put their kids first. Sarah never did that.”
    “Shawn, now he was trouble,” Pam interrupted.  
    “What do you mean?”
    “He was controlling. Sarah took up running because Shawn told
her she was getting too fat. I was scared of him from the start.”
    “Really? Why?”
    “It was gut instinct,” Pam said. “When Sarah introduced me to him,
I just thought, he’s not a good person. Sarah and I quit hanging out after
she took up with Shawn. She was always in a hurry to get home to him.”
    “Well, not always,” Gina said. “Matt would watch Karly a lot. He is
pissed at Sarah. He doesn’t think she should have gotten off scot-free.
Sarah’s a good manipulator, good at getting her own way. Karly was
at our house the week she died, running around crying, puking and
shaking, ‘I want my daddy! I want my daddy!’”
    Hearing Gina quote the dead Karly punctured something in Pam.
Holding back her corn-silk hair, she hunkered over the rim of her wine
glass. A fierce thunderstorm gave way to tears. A fellow sitting nearby
moved his beer and handed her a napkin.
    We all grew silent. There was no talk of Beaver basketball or what a
beautiful day it was in the Valley. Gina placed a hand on Pam’s shoulder.
There’s a time when tears are the only appropriate response. Pam’s
shoulder-heaving sobs are what I would have expected from Sarah the
day she told me Karly had died. How had she remained so calm about
that?
    “That e-mail Sarah sent out after her trip to New York, that upset a
lot of us,” Pam said.
    “Yeah,” Lee said, taking a draw from his beer.
    “Sarah is all about the money,” Pam added.