"Mother, I don't like this new guy you're seeing. It's as simple
as that. If you trusted me at all you would take that into account."
	"It is NOT simple, Sara-leh. You don't know him as well as I do,
and it is not upon you the burden of loneliness falls! How would you like
it if I said to you not to date? How can you wish that for me?"
	Sarah sighed. "I have all kinds of reasons for worrying about D
in particular, not LEAST of which is that you don't even know his whole
name! None of this has to do with your social life in general. I told you
I hoped you would call Maurie back. He's warmer. I could tell he liked you."
	"D was in Auschwitz, you know that. It changes people."
	"That's not even possible. He's barely 40, to look at him."
	"War takes years off your age."
	"It takes years off your LIFE, Mom. That's exactly the opposite."

	At age 5 Sarah already had a list of intended occupations, none of
them terribly glamorous. 'Private investigator' hadn't been even close to
making the cut, but there she was, hiding in a dumpster outside D's apart-
ment building. She flapped her arms slightly to keep warm, then winced as
she realized she was also wafting stinky garbage air around and back up to
her nose. For the fifth time that evening she heard a door close, but for
the first time, when she looked up it was D's back receding. Sarah vaulted
the dumpster's metal edge and began tailing.
	It turned out that she had a gift for covert surveillance. Sarah's
shopper's face was crucial to making a convincing show of studying store
windows shenever D turned around. Halfway down Columbus Ave. she felt con-
fident enough to jog ahead and grab a bite to eat while D covered the next
few blocks. A certain imbalance in his gait suggested he might be heading
for either Jim's Shoe Repair (1924 Columbus) or the podiatry clinic around
the corner from it. With one eye on her taco, to avoid spillage, Sarah's
other eye kept tabs on the sidewalk.
	D approached the lime-green facade of Interstellar Taco ten minutes
later and Sarah got her first good look at him that day. He was dirtier than
usual, stooped further over, and glowering. He did not wear his five o'clock
shadow well, she noted, before also catching sight of his left sole, which
from the front was obviously halfway to falling off. It felt good to be
right. Sarah brushed the crumbs off her hands to leave.
	They finally came to rest, the two of them, in a cyber-cafe Sarah
had never been to before. The attendant waved D over to one of the mach-
ines. After allowing a few minutes for him to get settled, Sarah smoothly
moved into position behind D and read his screen. He was cancelling his
membership in the personals service Sarah's mother used and sending her
mail explaining why. He had a job offer out of town that it behooved him to
accept, nothing personal, fond memories, etc.
	It was all a pack of lies, Sarah felt sure, but her burden had been
lifted.

written for Sarah (no relation) at Au Bon Pain #1 10/8/01

All of Kay's stories used the requester's names for the main character(s). I haven't followed that example, in general, but I figured "why not?" My mother is 'Saraleh' to her mother, and her father was named Maurice, so this is a tiny tribute to them (though these characters are not in any other way based on them).

Sarah (the character) came out much less sympathetic than I'd planned, but I hit the theme I'd wanted to: looking for fulfillment in the wrong place. Generally, I think, you end up finding fulfillment anyway, but of an inferior type.

The real Sarah never came back for her story. Sarah, if you're reading this, email me!

- everything is by Aaron Mandel; please ask first if you're about to steal something -

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