The Truth Will Out

Sarah wrinkled up her freckled nose in preparation for throwing the biggest tantrum a three-year old had ever launched. She had her hysterics down to a science, calculated to get the response she desired. Angrily, she threw herself down on the hard wooden floor, kicking her feet, flailing her arms and scrunching up her chubby little cheeks. Her red hair was standing on end, almost as if electricity were coursing through her frustrated little pumpkin body. Inwardly, she felt proud that she was doing a bang up job of achieving the attention she desired as she spouted her feelings in torrents of frustration. Opening her eyes a crack, she was pleased to see that her parents were reacting as planned.

Her mother and father watched in horrified amazement because they knew no one in their family had ever had this hair trigger temper and they knew why. But, shhh! Sarah could never know. It was a secret that they would preserve to their graves.

“You don’t feel like my mother,” Sarah screamed as her face reddened to the shade of the bricks framing the fireplace. “I don’t want you to be my father! I’m not like anyone else in this family. I don’t like my red hair! Why can’t I have brown hair like you?” She began to yank strands of her hair out in chunks. Her little overwhelmed body was shaking with frustration.

Her mother turned her head so little Sarah wouldn’t have the satisfaction of seeing her tears. Taking the small child in her arms, she tried to soothe her but Sarah would have no part of it, kicking her in the stomach. Her Dad walked quietly over and picked up the hollering child, carrying her to her bedroom where she cried herself to sleep.

As she grew older, Sarah was even more convinced that she did not belong in this family unit. She was very intelligent, gifted in math and science with a flamboyant creative streak. The other members of her family were quite pedestrian. Her father was a Pentecostal preacher who considered himself the king of the household with his word being law. No matter how hard Sarah tried, she couldn’t conform. Her quick wit was secretly admired by her teachers although she was sent to detention frequently because she was so lively and untamed. Because of her strict parents, she kept extra clothes in her school locker so she could change into them after she left her house. Sarah reasoned that it was her parents” fault that she was forced to be sneaky since they never approved of any of her choices. She certainly couldn’t be blamed for their lack of trust causing her to resort to deceit.

Although she felt miserable, Sarah continued her life doubting that she belonged anywhere at all. She found herself always looking around herself wherever she went to see if she could find a family in which she would feel comfortable. Unable to assuage her longing, she began to pursue her creativity, painting wild pictures and writing erotic poems. She sewed multi-colored outfits and became a fashion show plate. She tasted the nectar of many men indiscriminately as her juices awakened in uncontrollable desire. Savoring life, she backpacked to Europe one summer and had a wild fling. Returning to the States sans her temporary lover, she enrolled in engineering at the local college, attaining top grades while she continued to carouse with her many swains. The world opened up to her like a bud on a rose as she partook of its pleasures.

Marrying and divorcing twice, she still could not find her direction. She decided to return to her home to question her parents as to why she was so different. She was now 39 years old, full of life and passion, but always with a little nagging doubt at the back of her mind. While her parents were working in the parish of their church, she decided to snoop in the drawers of the dresser in their bedroom. Finding a folder labeled ‘Sarah’, she couldn’t resist opening it to see its contents. She wondered why she found photographs from the time she was two but no baby pictures. At the bottom of the folder, she found an official looking certificate and yellowed newspaper clippings which finally satisfied her search for the truth. Shaking, she fingered the papers discovering that she was adopted after her father had killed her mother in a fit of rage. As horrified as she was to discover the early circumstances of her life, she was enraged that her parents had never told her the truth of her birth. She knew in the bottom of her heart that she would rather be the daughter of a murderer than the seed of a family of liars.

Now she understood why she had such fury. She couldn’t contain the overwhelming anger and frustration festering and boiling over her rim. Forcing her temper to take a back seat, she took a large carving knife out of the knife block in the kitchen. Running her fingers over the sharp blade, she watched in fascination as a few small dark drops of blood marched along her thumb, verifying that the knife was honed and ready. Finally accepting her heritage, she smiled in eager anticipation as she awaited the arrival home of her adoptive parents.