Take Care, Sara

around herself and hung her head, her shoulders shaking from the force of her weeping.
    “Stop blaming yourself. You closed your eyes for one second? Big deal , Sara. It’s not your fault. One second of not looking at the road does not put you at fault. The other driver was drunk and crossed into your lane. How the hell is that your fault? Cole wasn’t wearing a seatbelt. Was that your fault too?”
    “Stop it!” Sara whirled around, pinning Lincoln in place with the look on her face. She clenched her fists at her sides, her body’s convulsions growing with anger. “Just stop it. Stop being my personal support team. Stop trying to make me feel better. Stop trying to do whatever it is you’re doing. I don’t want you to try to make me feel better. I don’t need you to. What I need, what I want , is for you to leave me alone.”
    It was a lie. It was a lie and it tasted like a lie, bitter with injustice, on her tongue. Sara almost took it back. When she saw the look on Lincoln’s face, she yearned to take it back. It closed. His face, the life in it, it shut down. She tried to look away, but something wouldn’t let her. Her conscience, maybe. Look at what you’ve done; see what you’ve done to him, the only person who really understands, who really cares about you. Are you happy?
    “That’s the way you want it?” A tick under his eye drew her attention to it. It pulsated there; anger in his veins even.
    “Yes,” she croaked, finally able to look away . Her gaze fell to the empty recliner and her throat tightened. Go away, Lincoln, go away and leave me with my pain.
    “That’s too bad, Sara.”
    Her head shot up.
    “I’m not going anywhere. Deal with it. And on that day you sign the papers, I’ll be right there with you. And on that day Cole takes his last breath, I’ll be there too. I’ll be around, even when he’s gone. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving you.” Lincoln’s eyes flashed as he leaned his face close to hers. “You don’t get to tell me to leave you alone. I’ll never leave you alone. I’ll never abandon you. That’s my promise to Cole and that’s my promise to you.”
    Lincoln left, and with him went a little of her fear. Sara stared at his truck as it pulled away from the curb, and even with the distance between them, she could see his profile was stiff, unmovable. Why did he have so much faith, so much belief, in her? Sara was undeserving and at the same time so very grateful. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, some of the guilt disintegrating with his words echoing through her head.
     
     
     

10
     
     
     
    Sara wanted to remember him the way he’d been before the accident. There wasn’t much time left and she didn’t want the present to eradicate the past. She had to keep a piece of her real husband in her memories. It wasn’t who was in the hospital room. That wasn’t him. Sara refused to accept that as him. She feared she’d forget him as he used to be and would only remember him as he was now. Unacceptable, Sara.
    As she lay on the couch in the dark, staring in the direction of where heaven was supposed to be, her thoughts instead went to God. He wasn’t supposed to be designated to some place in the sky. He was supposed to be all around her, always. She’d told herself she no longer believed, yet she was thinking of Him at the time when she’d soon be losing her husband, for the second time, for the final time. So maybe some part of her still had faith, still had hope. But if God was all around her, did that mean he would be all around her too, still with her somehow for always, if he was with God? Maybe that was what she needed to believe; no matter if it was true or not.
    Sara shook her thoughts away, too tired to think of such things. She hugged the ratty robe to her, burying her face in it, wetting the fabric with her sorrow. She wasn’t ready to say goodbye. Sara didn’t think she’d ever be ready. She hadn’t had enough time with him. The years had been happy and fast; now time did nothing but drag. Except that day; that fateful day loomed overhead, approaching much too quickly.
    Warmth swept over her, an unknown trickle of air caressing her hair, that forever elusive sense of peace finally taking pity on her and teasing her for a bit with tranquility. Sara sighed, slumber tugging at her, pulling her into the darkness and away from reality. She welcomed it. Sara pretended it was his arms keeping her warm instead of a blanket,