In the living room, watching the dying embers of the fire, sat Carrie.
Ew.
Sarah hesitated, not exactly jumping at the opportunity to share her insomnia with Carrie, then gave a quick wave and made a beeline for the bathroom, buying time to decide what to do. She could go outside, but it would feel cold and lonely out there. Back to bed wasn’t an option, at least not yet. Maybe she could light a lamp and pretend to read something? Find another room in the house where she could sit? The kitchen?
In the end she decided to stay in the living room where it was warmest. Maybe Carrie wouldn’t turn out to be such bad company. Or maybe she’d shut up.
“Mind if I join you?”
“Nope.” Carrie lifted the blanket she’d been sitting under and offered half to Sarah.
The gesture reminded her of Joe, and brought on a fresh wave of pain. “Thanks, I’m fine.”
“Insomnia a regular demon for you?” Carrie asked.
“Not usually.” Sarah sat near the other end of the couch, hoping she could answer in monosyllables and then lapse into miserable silence and that Carrie would get the hint.
“It’s my regular companion.” Carrie got up and put another log on the fire. “My mom was the same way.”
“Yeah?” Sarah wondered why Carrie wouldn’t rather enjoy the warmth of Kevin, then she remembered Kevin and Paul were in the same room tonight. Ha.
“So if it’s not a regular problem for you, what’s up tonight?”
Sarah shrugged.
“Did y’all fight with Joe?”
Huh? Sarah stared at her. Joe couldn’t have told her. He wouldn’t.
“I saw you two together when I was coming back up from the beach. You both looked miserable. I thought maybe you were on the outs.”
“We’re just friends.”
“Oh, I know that.” She chuckled, making Sarah feel like an idiot for protesting against something Carrie hadn’t implied. “Believe me, I know. Joe is totally the friend type.”
Sarah bristled. She did not like this woman and she did not like the way she was talking about Joe. “What type is Kevin?”
“Kevin? He’s a jerk.”
Sarah blinked in surprise then snorted. “Good choice, then.”
“I always go for jerks.” She spoke as if she was talking about shopping for a type of shoe. “They’re perfect when you don’t want to get serious.”
Sarah started feeling queasy again. “You go after jerks deliberately?”
“Well sure, honey.”
“What about Joe?”
More of that annoying laugh. “I wasn’t going after him. Just flirting. He seemed the type who needed to be flirted with.”
Sarah made herself breathe. And unclench her fist. And not think any more about putting it into Carrie’s face. “I’m sure he was grateful for whatever crumb you tossed him.”
“I know, right?” Carrie completely missed Sarah’s sarcasm.
“So why don’t you want to get serious about anyone?”
“Are you kidding?” She gave an ugly guffaw. “Me? Marriage? No, thank you, ma’am. I saw what it did to my mom. I’m steering clear of that slavery.”
Sarah swallowed audibly. Her mother had described marriage the same way to a friend. Sarah had overheard her, and even though she’d been too young to understand, the tone of her mom’s usually sweet voice had made the words stick in her head. “Well, then don’t marry a jerk.”
Carrie snorted. “They’re all jerks. And if you make the mistake of thinking you found a good one, as soon as you fall for him, trust me, he turns jerk.”
This was sounding familiar. Wheels started turning so hard in Sarah’s brain, she would not be surprised if her scalp started steaming.
And then, there it was, what she’d been on the edge of figuring out all day. She was always falling for unavailable men and jerks, all along thinking what she wanted from them was a serious relationship. But, like Carrie, she was essentially making sure she’d never have one. The only difference was that Carrie knew that about herself and acted that way on purpose. Sarah had been ignoring her subconscious, acting on pure denial, moaning and bitching and playing the poor-me victim to whomever would listen.