Sadie’s trip (short story)

Bereft, Sadie packs her bags. Perhaps this trip will be all she needs to find better days.

Her business partner, Nick, had booked her ticket, a week after the funeral. He refused to listen to her protests.

‘No, Sadie, you’re going. I can hold the fort here,’ he’d said, the third time she tried to put him off. They’d had quite a fight after that, with Sadie spitting words she didn’t mean about his capabilities to run the business without her. Fortunately, Nick and Sadie had been friends since university, and he didn’t take umbrage. Death of a husband will do that.

Now, standing in her doorway, with her bags in the hallway, she knows he’s good stock, and the best-ever friend. This trip will do her good. It won’t fill the cavity that her life now resembles, but she may even have fun.

Losing Dom is the worst thing that has happened to Sadie. She recalls opening the front door; the knock was too quick, too forceful, so her brow was furrowed to begin with. The two police officers stood on her doorstep, and she thought, naively, that something must’ve happened in the street overnight and they were door-knocking to discover what the neighbours knew. Horror for someone else, not her. But they asked her name, and then Dom’s. And then, something about stepping inside. She heard them use words like, I’m sorry, and car accident, and didn’t suffer. With those utterances, all the goodness was sucked out of her world; she truly heard it, like a vacuum. Next thing she knew, her mum was with her. And Nick. Thank god for Nick. They did everything for her. Her mum even took her to the toilet, put water and food to her lips and tucked her into bed, as if she were a toddler again.

The taxi’s horn stops her thoughts, brings her back. She locks the door to her apartment and grabs her bags. Placing them in the boot of the car, she hops in the back seat and directs the driver to the airport.

 

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