Take Care, Sara
She wanted it all to stop. The animosity was stifling, making it hard for her to breathe. Sara didn’t want them fighting, especially over her.
“You know what I say is true.”
“No. I don’t . Sara isn’t responsible. She was driving the car, yes, but she wasn’t the one that crossed the center line. She wasn’t the one drinking. Sara didn’t do this to your son. You know that.”
Lincoln was wrong. It was her fault. He didn’t know. The room was starting to fade, their angry voices becoming background noise. Sara shook her head, but only made herself woozier.
She started to fall.
“What do you want do when we get home?” Sara asked, glancing at him with a smile on her face.
The wind swept in through the open windows of the black Grand Am, playing with his light brown hair and sending his scent she loved over to her. The sun caught his eyes just right and they glowed with blue heat. A lazy smile turned his lips up. Sara laughed.
“I think you know how the birthday celebration is supposed to continue once we get home.”
She nodded; her eyes on the road. “I do, yes.”
“Explain it to me, so I know we’re on the same page.”
“Hmm. Okay. You’re going to get naked…”
“Mmm-hmm. I’m liking this.”
“You’re going to straddle me.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“And give me a full body massage.”
“Uh-uh. You had it up till then.” He reached over to play with her hair and Sara’s insides sighed. “Thanks for dinner, babe. It was good.”
“Welcome.”
“You always spoil me.”
“You need to be spoiled now and then.”
“Want to spoil me some more and go fishing with me tomorrow, feed some fishies?”
Sara smiled. “Sure.”
She liked to go fishing for the peacefulness of it, but she abhorred the worm and hook part of it and the actual catching of fish part of it. Sara liked to feed them and let him do all the rest.
“It’s a date.” His fingers moved from her hair to caress her earlobe and then down to massage her shoulder.
“That feels good,” she murmured, briefly closing her eyes.
“Sara.” His hand painfully squeezed.
Her eyes flew open to see a red truck in their lane, heading directly for them. Sara tensed, watching it like it was on a movie screen and not really before her. It swerved back and forth, making it impossible for her to guess its destination. She couldn’t think. What do I do?What do I do ? It was getting closer and closer. Sara wrenched the steering wheel, fear and panic overtaking logic.
“Sara, look out! Sara! ”
The car spun, its side colliding with the much larger truck once, twice; horrible crunching, shattering sounds drilling through the car, through her ears. He doesn’t have a seatbelt on, she dimly thought. Why doesn’t he have his seatbelt on? His hand was torn away from her on impact, his body slamming against her, then the side of the car the truck hit, only a layer of metal between him and the other vehicle.
Sara’s heart died as she watched his body thrown forward, then backward, and then he didn’t move at all. The airbag went off, crashing his already ruined body. Sara screamed, reaching for him. Blood trickled from his head and he still wasn’t moving, his eyes halfway open, staring, but not seeing anything.
She tried to unbuckle her seatbelt, but her fingers were shaking and slick, and the pain; the pain was everywhere. Not for her, but for him. Dying. She was dying. If he was dying, Sara was dying. She couldn’t get to him. There was this terrible pressure on her chest, so heavy with foreboding, so thick with finality. It was killing her.
Sara screamed in helpless impotence. “Cole! Cole!” she shrieked, her voice high and unnatural. Over and over she called his name, willing him to respond.
He didn’t move. Why didn’t he move? Tears burned her eyes and cheeks, blurring her vision. Sirens blared in the distance, getting louder. Still he didn’t move. Still his eyes remained in that partial place of not really closed and not really opened.
“Don’t you die on me, Cole, don’t you die on me,” she pleaded, straining against her seatbelt to touch the fingers of his hand. Hers grazed his, just barely, choking sobs leaving her lips. A crack in her heart formed, grew, became her, as she stared at her broken husband Sara knew couldn’t be repaired. She died on the inside, dimmed, as she watched him, waiting for the impossible.
Sara’s eyes slowly opened. His eyes never opened. She’d waited and
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