Take Care, Sara

pocket.
    “You can sit at the table and look at it, all right?”
    “All right.”
    Mason motioned for her to proceed. A chair to the table scraped the floor as Derek pulled it out, situating himself at the table with his book. Sara smiled faintly, turning away.
    Every step that took her closer to the paintings made it a little harder for her to breathe. Sara forced her footsteps closer to their destination, her pulse racing. She grabbed the doorknob and tugged, opening the door to the studio.
    Two paintings stood against the wall, side by side. Sara stared at them, her heart giving a twinge. One was of a closed blue door, the other the same blue door opened to show gray eyes. It was haunting and mysterious.
    “What does it mean?” Mason asked from behind her.
    Sara shook her head. “I don’t know. It just…my mind wandered both times and this is what I came up with. Once before he died and the other time after.”
    “Who has gray eyes?”
    She turned around. “Lincoln has gray eyes.”
    Mason smiled softly. “I thought so. It’s okay, Sara.”
    “I don’t think it is,” she whispered.
    “You know…holding on isn’t holding on. It’s letting go.”
    “I don’t know what that means.” She blinked and a tear dropped to her cheek.
    “You will,” Mason vowed, moving forward to hug her.
    “It hasn’t been long enough,” she said into his shoulder, returning the hug. In the person she’d last thought she would, Sara had found a friend.
    Mason pulled away. “Life isn’t measured in time, Sara, but by moments. When you figure that out, you’ll be golden.”
    Sara blinked her stinging eyes; turning away from Mason’s knowing ones.
    “I think you have all your answers. You just have to see them. I got a hungry nephew to feed. Like I said, anytime you want to talk, look me up. I won’t even charge you.”
    See me , Lincoln had pleaded. Sara briefly closed her eyes and more tears fell to her face. She opened her eyes, shaking the memory away. “That notebook you gave me?”
    He paused at the doorway, looking over his shoulder at her. “Yeah?”
    “It’s full of sketches,” Sara admitted.
    Mason smiled. “I’m glad.”
    “Thank you, Mason,” Sara said, her voice trembling with emotion.
    “I didn’t do anything, Sara.”
    “So I should thank you for nothing?” A small smile formed to her lips.
    Mason laughed. “Yeah. You’d be surprised by how many times I’m told that, actually.” He tapped his fingers on the doorframe. “See you around, Sara.”
    “’Bye, Sara!” Derek called and she called a goodbye in return as they walked out the door.
    Sara inhaled deeply, closing her eyes. She missed Lincoln. The ache in her chest widened, became painful. That connection they’d had, before and after they’d explored one another’s bodies in the most intimate way; she needed it. She needed him. Even if they couldn’t be what he wanted them to be, Sara couldn’t imagine her life without him in it. It was his voice she longed to hear, his arms Sara wanted to feel around her. When had it all changed?
    ***
    The ring that never left her finger, other than when it slid off, was heavy. It weighed her down, like the love she had yet to completely say goodbye to, like the past she had to move forward from. Was it as simple as removing a ring? Would the shedding of it take all she couldn’t get over with it as well? Sara took it off her finger, raising it to eyelevel. It twinkled when the sunlight filtering in through the thin bedroom curtains caught it. It was a solitaire diamond. Simple.
    Sara placed the cool metal to her lips and kissed it, clasping it tight within her hand for a moment. Closing her eyes, she bowed her head, willing the release to come, willing the ache to go away. It didn’t. Neither happened. It was a silly thought.
    With a sigh, Sara opened the jewelry box on the dresser that housed rings and earrings and necklaces; all the things she used to wear and no longer did. There was a silver cross necklace her mother and father had given her as a graduation gift from high school. With a twinge, she pulled it out and clasped it around her neck, feeling closer to them merely by putting it on. They’d touched it once, they’d bought it for her; it was link to them.
    Sara set the wedding ring down on the cream-cushioned interior, resisting the impulse to pick it back up, and with resolve stiffening her jaw, she picked out a pair of white crystal studs and a ring. Tucking her