Back at the McMillan house, Sarah was sitting on what was increasingly feeling more and more like her own bed, in what was increasingly feeling more and more like her own bedroom. She knew she used to have a different bedroom, but whenever she thought about it, she knew that her old bedroom wasn't right for a girl like her.
But that was wrong too, wasn't it. Wishes. A wishing stone. Something was wrong with the stone, and wishes were coming out weird. All of this was the result of wishes.
Sarah brought a hand to her forehead, as if to appease a headache that was about to form. Maybe she needed to go visit that old bedroom, after all. Maybe that's where the answers were. And especially if the other Sarah was on her way there, it was especially important for her to make it there first. If the other Sarah was on foot, Sarah could still get there faster if she took her car.
Another odd lapse. Her car. How did Sarah know she had a car now?
There were so many things happening, so many things changing, but it felt like the more time she spent away from Mom-- away from Susan, the clearer Sarah's head felt.
But in any case, regardless where the information had come from, Sarah did know that she had a car, and she could use it to get to the Gibson house-- her old house-- her house before the other Sarah.
But she still had to hurry. She looked at herself in the mirror, still in workout clothes. This was... not ideal, but it was good enough. She could leave now. She could go out the door right now, dressed exactly as she was. It was fine. It was acceptable.
It was... a little uncomfortable? Why would she wear gym clothes if she wasn't going to the gym? No, she was in a hurry.
But a girl like her knew that there was a correct outfit for every purpose. So she changed into something more casual, a tank top with a black leather jacket and a black pleated skirt, then put on a light coat of makeup, nothing fancy, just enough to be presentable, slipped into a pair of black ballet flats, and made her way downstairs towards the garage.
"Sarah?" Susan's voice called from the living room as she reached the bottom of the stairs.
I expect you to answer, young lady.
"Yes, Mom?"
"Why are you in such a hurry? Come over here and watch some TV with me."
That offer felt so appealing. Sarah wanted to spend time with her mom. She was excited at the prospect of spending more time with her mom. But she knew she wasn't clear-headed when around Mom. And she needed to figure out what was going on with the stone...
"You're not too old to have some wine and watch Desperate Housewives with your mother, are you?"
No, Sarah decided, she was not. She turned on her heel and made her way to the living room.
"Oh, not like that," Susan playfully admonished her, wineglass in hand, wearing an over-sized T-shirt, pink flannel pajama bottoms, and fuzzy slippers. "Go back upstairs and change into your PJs."
A smile lit up Sarah's face. "Sure, Mom!" Then she ran back upstairs to change into an outfit that matched her mother's.
Several hours later, Richard McMillan came home to find his wife and his daughter curled up together on the sofa, asleep, illuminated only my the light of the Netflix "Are you still watching?" screen. He gave a low chuckle, but let them be and made his way to the master bedroom.
