Take Care, Sara

preoccupied.”
    Sara hung her head, wanting to forget the last time he’d made an impromptu visit. She’d been in the throes of a binge of destruction and rage and pain; smashing and breaking anything she’d laid eyes on reminiscent of her husband. Spencer had shown up in the middle of it, calmed her down, and listened to her terrible sobbing. He’d held her in his arms and rocked her like a baby, and then he’d even helped her right the house. All of that before she’d thrown him out.
    She was still mortified over the incident. Of her lack of control, of her weakness, of allowing him to hold her and offer comfort. Sara was especially remorseful over her rudeness. Spencer had only meant to help. At the same time, she wished he’d stayed away; she wished he wasn’t here now.
    “It’s okay, Sara,” he said softly, with conviction.
    Sara refused to raise her head. She knew what she’d see in his eyes; pity, sympathy. She blinked her eyes against the stinging in them. Sara took a deep breath, composed herself. Say something. Ask something. Don‘t just sit there and try not to cry.
    “You went out a long time, right? You and Gracie?”
    “Yeah. Five years.”
    Five years. One more year than she’d had with her husband before the accident. “Why’d you break up?”
    Spencer shrugged as he got up to refill his cup and plate. “She decided she didn’t like my career, even though I’d had the same one since I met her. Too dangerous. Want some?” He motioned to the coffee pot and cake pan.
    Sara shook her head. “Gracie was nice.”
    Spencer got a slightly wistful look on his face. “That she was.”
    “I’m sorry,” she repeated.
    He sat down and took a bite of cake. Spencer met her eyes, looking sheepish. “I skipped lunch.”
    Sara waved his comment away. “Eat as much as you want.”
    “We still talk. I’m over it, she’s over it. We actually get along better as friends than we ever did dating.”
    “That’s good then,” was the best reply she could think of.
    A long silence ensued.
    Spencer sipped his coffee, his eyes on her. “You done any hiking lately?”
    Sara went still. “No. Why?”
    “You haven’t been to Wyalusing?”
    “That’s not what you asked,” she said stiffly.
    “So you have been there?”
    Sara got to her feet. “Why are you asking me this?”
    Spencer sighed and stood. “Friend of mine was there, Sara.”
    She backed away, toward the counter. “So?”
    The sad look on Spencer’s face was too much. Sara looked down.
    “So I know what happened.”
    “No, you don’t.”
    Spencer slammed his fingers through his hair, messing it up. “Really? Maybe you should explain it to me then. From what my friend said, a woman looked like she was ready to…to kill herself, jump off the damn cliff, for shit‘s sake.”
    Sara flinched, but remained silent.
    “He had me run the plates, Sara, and imagine my shock when I realized the car belonged to you.”
    She couldn’t talk, because if she did, she would cry. So she stood there, silent and still and on the verge of weeping, and willed him to leave. Sara wanted him to go away and stay away and leave her alone.
    “Tell me he was wrong. Tell me it wasn‘t you,” Spencer pleaded, his gaze locked on her.
    Sara glanced up, surprised to find Spencer was so close, and that he looked so very earnest.
    “Talk to me. I lost Co—”
    “Don’t say his name!” she shrieked. Spencer flinched. “Don’t say his name,” she repeated, in a calmer tone.
    “Why?” he demanded, hands on hips.
    “Because,” Sara whispered, tears trickling down her cheeks.
    “Because why?” Spencer asked, sweeping the wetness from her cheeks with his thumb.
    Sara moved her head away from his touch. She hated anyone touching her. It seemed like a betrayal to him, even with the most innocent of intentions. She didn’t deserve to be comforted; she didn’t deserve anyone’s sympathy.
    “Why are you doing this?” He ran a hand over his face. “Why are you living this way, Sara? You can’t keep doing this; you can’t keep living like this. You need to stop. If you can’t talk to me, talk to someone . Talk to Lincoln.”
    Sara looked at him then, flinching at the sound of her brother-in-law’s name. “Don’t you think I know that? That’s why I was there, to stop living this way! Your stupid friend ruined it!” She suddenly let out a weary breath. “And Lincoln can’t help me. No one can help me. I’d be better off—better off