Take Care, Sara

knees, until control came back. Sara got to her feet, swiped a hand across her sweaty, tear-stained face, and answered the phone. No one was there. She slammed the phone back in place. Sara stood there, shaking. Had the phone even actually rung, or had that been in her head as well?
    On the verge of losing it completely, Sara picked the phone up and dialed a number.
    “Hello?” The voice was deep, familiar. It reminded her of him, and though it hurt to hear it, it helped a little too.
    She sank against the wall, slid down it, and cradled the phone to her ear. Sara closed her eyes and waited for the respite to come.
    When she remained silent, the person on the other end of the line began to talk softly. “Bad day, huh?” He made a sound of derision. “Not that any day is spectacular. I had one a couple days ago. It didn’t make any sense, not really. I was at work, fixing a leak in a roof, when I remembered a time we went fishing. Nothing significant happened that day we went fishing, nothing to make me remember it, or to think of it at that moment. We were ten and twelve.
    “We grabbed our fishing poles and headed to the creek. I carried the bucket of worms. Because I was younger, he said. We sat in the grass at that creek all day. We didn’t catch a single thing and it was so hot out. The sun burned our skin. Bugs had a meal out of us. It smelled like sweat and grass and fish.”
    Sara felt herself begin to relax. She took a deep, calming breath.
    “But it was just us, there wasn’t another soul out when we first got there. Probably because it was six in the morning on a Saturday. And later, because it was too hot out for any smart person to roast away under the sun.” He laughed.
    Sara closed her eyes at the sound and let the sad, but musical notes wash over her.
    “Only thing we heard was the sound of rushing water from the stream and my voice whenever I tried to talk, which wasn’t much, since he kept telling me to shut up. We stayed there all day. We ditched the poles in the late afternoon and jumped in the water. Needless to say, we forgot to mention to our parents where we were going or what we were doing that day.
    “So when we showed up at home, wet and sunburned, it was to find police cars and frantic adults in the yard. They grounded us. For the rest of the summer. And it was only the beginning of June. That summer sucked.” He laughed softly. A long pause. “I hope that helped.” Then a sigh. “Take care, Sara.”
    She turned the phone off and sat there, her back flush against the hard wall and beginning to twinge from her position. Sara didn’t care, thoughts on the phone call. He always ended their one-sided conversation the same: Take care, Sara.
    The longer she sat the more that sense of tranquility fell away from her and sorrow once more cocooned her. But for one small period of time she’d been at peace. Sara clung to that as long as she could and when it finally left her, her heart ached at the absence of it.
    ***
    There were friends, or rather, there used to be friends, but Sara had alienated them. Friends of his, mostly. Sara had always kept to herself; most comfortable in small social groups and with her family. She’d had a few friends growing up, but none close. Any friends she’d acquired since her marriage had been his first and remained his before hers. It wasn’t that she didn’t like people, but she was easily flustered around strangers and wasn’t very outgoing; she preferred her own company to others. He’d been the friendly one.
    They came by at first; his friends, after it happened, and offered their support. Some would cry, others would stumble through awkward conversations, and some even took it upon themselves to try to get a smile or a laugh out of her; all failing, of course. They would give her advice she didn’t want to hear, they would say they’d been in a similar situation, they would say they knew how she felt. They told her it would get better. It wasn’t long before only an infrequent straggler would stop by out of a feeling of obligation.
    Sara had enough sense to realize that her gloomy demeanor chased them all away. She couldn’t pretend things were okay when they weren’t. She couldn’t laugh when she wanted to cry. She couldn’t talk about it, and everyone wanted to talk about nothing but it. Her soul had been ripped out; what was the point in pretending it hadn’t been?
    So she was shocked when there was a knock on the door and she