Take Care, Sara

either since the accident. Each song had a story to tell, each song was a small, but significant tale. It had manipulated her art to be either ethereal or angry or simply bold. A good song had the power to change someone’s whole outlook in so many ways.
    He began to sing along, completely off key and Sara knew that was on purpose. Out of the two brothers, Lincoln was the one gifted with a musical voice. When he chose to use it. Sara looked at him. Lincoln caught her eye and winked, bellowing out the next verse. He made his voice really high, so high it cracked, and Sara’s lips unconsciously curved. She bit her lip to stop the smile from completely forming, but when he changed the words to ridicule himself, a snort left her.
    Sara clapped a hand over her mouth, widening her eyes. Lincoln took in her expression and laughed long and hard. For that moment, Sara forgot everything. For that moment, she was her old self. The person she’d been before the pain had overtaken everything and warped her into what she now was. She giggled; her eyes on Lincoln.
    “Come on, Sara, help me out.” Another song started and Lincoln mutilated that one as well, doing a neck roll and upper body dance as he drove the truck up the hill to Fennimore.
    She shook her head. “No way. I’m not adding to the horrible sound coming out of your mouth.”
    “What was that song we sang at karaoke that one time?”
    “The song you forced me to sing even though I didn’t know it?”
    “Yeah. That one. You learned it soon enough. What was the name of it?”
    “’Love Shack’.” Sara swallowed thickly. It was supposed to have been a double date, but Lincoln’s girlfriend dumped him right before it was time to go and as he had gotten stuck finishing up a company project it had ended up being Sara and Lincoln. In spite of all that, it had been a fun night.
    “That would be it. We should do that again.” Lincoln pulled the truck into a gas station parking lot and put it in park. “Let’s get some bad coffee. You game?”
    “You go. I’ll wait here.”
    Lincoln hopped out of the truck and turned back to her. “If you don’t go inside with me, I’ll be forced to stand on the sidewalk and sing at the top of my lungs. Loudly. And badly. Promise.”
    “Why does it matter if I go in or not, Lincoln?”
    “It doesn’t. To me. But I think it matters to you. Let’s go, Sara.”
    Sara glared at him. He was right. Every normal act she’d used to do without thought took great effort from her to accomplish these days, even getting out of a vehicle and going into a gas station to get a cup of lousy coffee. Even getting into the truck. Showering. Getting dressed. All of those things wore her out and some days she couldn’t even get them done. Even eating was a chore lately.
    One of Lincoln’s eyebrows lifted as he intently gazed at her, his eyes never leaving her. With a sigh, Sara opened the door and slid down from the cab, huddling in her coat and tucking her chin under the collar of it to keep as much cold away from her skin as she could. It didn’t help much.
    Lincoln met her on the sidewalk, smiling, bumping her shoulder with his arm as they walked inside. Sara knew she was being paranoid, but she felt like everyone was watching her, like everyone knew what she was responsible for and they all hated her because of it. He was the only one she didn’t imagine looking at her like that and Sara’s eyes continued to drift to Lincoln because of it. He was her rock. That scared her, knowing she’d come to rely on him so much, because she knew that would change in weeks to come.
    It smelled like pizza and coffee and doughnuts in the convenience store; an odd mixture that was somehow enticing all tossed in together as it was. They stood side by side, looking at the different kinds of coffee. Sara and Lincoln looked at each at the same time and when he smiled, she felt her lips turn up in response.
    “They all sound terrible.”
    “They probably all are terrible,” she murmured, eyes back on the coffee selection.
    “Here goes,” he said, reaching for a cup and pouring ‘Jamaican Me Crazy’ into it.
    Sara watched his face as he sipped it. Lincoln’s face went perfectly blank, revealing nothing. “Good?”
    “Mmm-hmm,” was all he said, lifting his cup in a salute. He methodically raised the cup to his lips and took another drink.
    She fought laughter and lost, surprising herself and Lincoln. He went still, blinking at her. Sara