Take Care, Sara by Lindy Zart_ 11 page

He walked inside and Sara’s heart cried a little. Lincoln stood in the middle of the room, his back to her. The seconds ticked by, turning into minutes. Sara hovered by the door, unable to walk into the room, not with Lincoln in it.

“You moved it in already.”

She frowned, not knowing what he meant. Sara followed the direction he looked and saw the hope chest at the foot of the bed. “Yes.”

“You walked into the room you never sleep in to put the chest I made you in front of the bed.”

“Yes.”

“Why?” he demanded, his broad shoulders tense.

Sara stared at the back of his head, scrutinizing a wayward lock of hair that curled up on the nape of his neck. His shaggier, unkempt hairstyle fit him better than the shorter one had.

“It had to have been hard to move it. Why do all that?” Lincoln turned, his features swathed in nothingness. His face was perfectly neutral.

“Because…” She searched her brain for the right words.

“Because?”

“Because…” Sara looked at the bed she hadn’t slept in for over a year. “Because the room isn’t so lonely with it in here. It’s not so sad, with that…with what you made me in here. I know that sounds dumb, but…” She shrugged.

Lincoln approached her, the blank expression shattering and sadness and ferocity; a strange combination, bursting through the shield he tried so hard to keep erected. “It doesn’t sound dumb. It sounds…”

He swallowed, looking like he was struggling for words. “It sounds fucking beautiful.” Lincoln rubbed his eyes, sighing. “I can’t believe I just said that. I swear I’m turning wimpier the longer I hang out with you.”

“Adding the swear word made it sound more masculine.”

He dropped his hands from his eyes, a grin forming on his lips. “Ya think?”

“Definitely.”

“Good ‘cause that’s what I was aiming for.”

“Spot on,” she murmured.

He laughed and Sara realized no one had laughed in this room since him, the night of the accident. Lincoln said her name and her head jerked up, a question in her eyes. He held out his hand and motioned her forward.

“No.”

“Come on, Sara. I’ll help you. You know I will. Take my hand. Take it.”

Sara blinked her eyes, turning away.

“You’ll never heal if you don’t face what hurts you.”

She whirled around. “How can I heal when I know he’s about to die, Lincoln?” Sara hissed, storming toward him. “I can’t heal from that. It’s like he’s dying all over again, twice.”

His eyes darkened with grief and anger. “He left a long time ago, Sara. You know that.” A muscle jumped under Lincoln’s eye. “It pisses me off that he did what he did.”

Sara jerked back. “What?”

“It wasn’t fair what he did, giving you a countdown, dragging it out for a year. You’re stuck in limbo. You can’t go back, you can’t go forward. And…there he lies on that bed, a shell of himself, a piece of who he used to be, but not him. It’s not him.”

“He did it—” Teardrops fell from her eyes and her throat tightened, making it hard to talk. “He did it to give us time, to give him a chance to come back.”

“But he hasn’t. And he’s not.” Lincoln’s eyes watered and he took a ragged breath. “Nothing’s changed. Nothing’s gotten better. He would have shown improvement by now if he was going to. I understand why Cole had his will set up that way. I understand the hope he had that if anything like this would happen, he would somehow recover.

“It wasn’t fair of him to do that to you though. It was selfish of him, making you wait, making you watch him die. You can’t heal from the loss of him when he’s lingering, not really alive, and not really dead. And you have to heal. You can’t live like this. You’re…you’re…” Lincoln closed his eyes, rubbing his face.

“I’m in the room,” she whispered. It was unbearable to see Lincoln in such pain. He hid it so well. Take it away, Sara, somehow take it away.

He opened his eyes, showing Sara his sorrow even when he smiled faintly. “That you are, Sara,” Lincoln said quietly, not reaching out a hand this time.

Sara reached for his instead, linking them. The room wasn’t so overwhelming with Lincoln in it. The world wasn’t so tragic with him before her, holding her hands. Sara even thought maybe she could get through anything if Lincoln were with her. Their eyes connected, and in the strength of his gaze, she found hers.

“What has the last few days been like?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Why?”

“Yes, you do. Tell me. Did you have fun at all?”

“I guess.”

“Did you forget to be sad, did you laugh, did you smile?”

“Maybe.”

One dark eyebrow rose. “You can still miss him; you can still mourn him, without giving up your life. You just have to have a reason to keep going.”

Sara stared at him, her brows furrowing at the truth of his words; at the fact that Lincoln was the reason she had to not give up. She turned away, not wanting it to be true and unable to deny it. He was it for her. It was Lincoln. How had that happened? Maybe it couldn’t have been anyone else, or any other way. Maybe it had to be him.

“Sara?”

“Thank you, Lincoln,” she said quietly, facing him once more.

He looked down. “I’d do anything for you, Sara.” Lincoln’s head lifted. “You have to know that.”

She did. Sara closed her eyes, nodding. “I know.”

“I’ll always be here for you, no matter what. Even when you don’t want me to be. Even when you don’t think you need me to be, or you don’t think you deserve me to be. I’ll never leave you.”

Sara touched a wayward lock of his, surprised by how soft his hair was. He went still, his gaze locked with hers. She didn’t say anything. She couldn’t. But Sara smiled. It was enough.

“Come here,” Lincoln said in a gruff voice, moving toward the bed.

“What are you doing?” she asked warily, watching him as he sat down on the bed.

“I’m not trying to seduce you, if that’s what you think. As much as your blue rag turns me on, I will somehow manage to restrain myself.” Lincoln patted the bed, his eyebrows raised.

“I don’t—I can’t…” Sara shook her head, her chest tightening painfully. It was all wrong; Lincoln on their bed. It would be ever more wrong if she joined him on it.

“Just come here. Please.”

Sara closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and gingerly sat down on the bed as far away from Lincoln as she could get without falling off it.

“See? Not so bad, right?” He stretched his long-limbed body out and put his hands behind his head. “Your turn.”

It was too intimate. Sara couldn’t do it. She couldn’t even lie down on the bed by herself, let alone with a man other than her husband next to her.

“Sara.”

“You’re evil,” she muttered, lying down on the bed, her hands on either side of her body. Her arms and legs were stiff, immobile, like she was frozen by some kind of tragic spell.

“Close your eyes.” Lincoln’s voice was low, hypnotic.

“No.”

“Do it.”

Sara obliged, her teeth clenched, her body hot with annoyance. “What is the point of this?”

“You’re reacquainting yourself with your bed. It’s such a small thing; sleeping in your bed, and yet it holds such power over you,” he mused. “You have to realize you’re stronger than the pain and the sorrow, Sara.”

“I’m not,” she choked out, squeezing her eyes tightly shut.

“You are,” Lincoln said with conviction.

“You know I’m just going to go back to the couch at bedtime, right?”

“That’s fine. At least I got you here now.” Lincoln paused. “Every memory I have of my childhood includes Cole. He was such a big part of my life, big brother and all. It’s hard going each day without him being a part of it. You know what helps me get through it?”

She shook her head, eyes still closed.

“At first I thought by not thinking about him, I’d be okay. But I wasn’t. Instead I made myself think of him and it hurt, a lot, but the more I thought of him, the easier it got. The more I did things I didn’t want to do, the more able I was to function without bawling my eyes out on a daily basis. The more I remembered him, the more I could think of him with happiness instead of sorrow.”

Her limbs loosened a little under the influence of his soothing tone.

“I mean, yeah, it still hurts. It always will. Cole’s my brother. I love him. I also hate him, just a little. But I love him more. You don’t have to accept what’s happened to him, Sara, but you have to find a way to live with it. Know what I mean?”

Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. A hand, warm and calloused and strong, clasped its fingers around hers and squeezed. Sara held Lincoln’s hand, both of them silent, and felt oddly whole for the moment.

It was time. How could he have put such a burden on her? How could he have thought it was right to ask such a thing of her? She couldn’t decide such a thing. Sara would never be able to do it. It was like she was killing him all over again, for a second time. And still she’d had to do it. Sara had done it. Dr. Henderson had sadly smiled as she’d signed her husband’s life away, offering no words of sympathy. Maybe he realized none would be sufficient enough. The antiseptic smell of the room made her stomach roil and though she wanted to run from the room, her feet remained rooted in place.

“No one else can do it.”

Her head shot up and she looked around the room, her eyes taking in the white walls, the beeping monitor, the hospital equipment, and finally, slowly, slowly going to his still form. His skin was waxen and gray-tinged. He looked unreal, like one of those celebrity replicas found in a wax museum. Tubes ran in and out of his body, giving him an inhuman, robotic quality. She hated the thought; she hated the truth of it. His chest rose and lowered with air that wasn’t his, stolen breaths of life that kept him alive, but not living.

His light brown hair was thick and waved around his head. She lifted a hand to touch it and let it fall back to her side. His body was shrunken in size, the muscle and tan gone from his form. Sara closed her eyes, not wanting this to be him, unable to accept him this way, seeing him this way. He should have been laughing, smiling, spending his days working and loving and living. How could she have signed his death warrant?

“No one else could do it, Sara. It had to be you.”

She slapped a hand to her mouth, eyes stinging with tears. Sara stared down at him, her pulse jumping in incomprehension. It had sounded like his voice. He was silent and unmoving on the hospital bed before her. It wasn’t him talking, but for the first time, Sara realized it had always been his voice talking to her. She just hadn’t heard it as his before; she hadn’t been able to accept it was his voice in her mind. Chills went up and down her arms, encasing her in icy revelation. How could that be?

“You have to say goodbye now. It’s the only way you’ll be able to move on. It’s time for you to move on.”

“I just…I just want to see your blue eyes, just one last time. Please,” she whispered brokenly, hot tears of sorrow making jagged tracks down her cheeks. “Cole.”

Whatever had been keeping her together, sheer will maybe, finally abandoned her when his name fell from her lips. It was the first time she’d spoken it since the accident. It was real. Saying his name made it real. It hurt so much. A sob left her, broken and weak; like Sara. She hung her head as the tears made a river out of her face, her throat painfully tight. Sara wrapped her arms around herself, pretending they were his.

She couldn’t do this. How could she do this? He was her husband, her love. He was her life. Sara couldn’t say goodbye; she refused to say goodbye. Her shoulders shook and she held her head between her hands, trying to hide from the terrible act she’d set into motion with a signature.

The air shifted behind her and two arms overlapped hers, warm and strong and alive, and for a second, she let herself pretend they were his. Sara turned into the embrace with her eyes closed, not wanting reality to creep back in yet, inhaling his citrus scent, and just like that, the spell was broken. She opened her eyes, moving away from Lincoln and closer to him.

An unknown emotion flickered in Lincoln’s eyes. “Dr. Henderson and the nurses are ready, Sara. They’re waiting outside.”

Resignation and defeat warred with a hopeless faith that maybe he’d come back to her. He’d open his eyes and be miraculously healed in all ways. He’d be hers again. Sara took his cold hand in hers and brought it to her lips, softly kissing the stiff fingers, her tears falling to his hand. I need magic tears to bring you back to life, Cole. You’ve been sleeping so long and all I wanted was for you to wake up. Why wouldn’t you wake up for me? Why wasn’t I enough to bring you back?

Lincoln was on the other side of him, blank-faced as he stared down at the shell that was now his brother. “It’s not him, Sara,” he said in a raspy voice, eyes downcast. “He left a long time ago. This isn’t him. This is a way for us to say goodbye.”

“But you said—“

“Forget what I said. I was pissed. I mean, I meant it, don’t get me wrong, but…I’m choosing to believe this.” He inhaled deeply and lifted red-rimmed eyes to hers. “From this day on I’m choosing to believe he held on for this, for us to come to terms with everything, for us to be able to let him go. And I don’t care what you think or say, what anyone else thinks or says. This is what I know to be true. This is my truth.”

She felt her face crumple and her vision blurred with tears. Lincoln’s expression turned pained and he rapidly blinked his eyes, swiping an arm across his face. She’d done this. She’d taken Lincoln’s brother from him. Now she was taking him away again, for the last time.

“Don’t you look at me like that,” he warned in a menacing tone.

Sara looked down, unable to speak.

“I’m sick of you blaming yourself for something out of your control. This is what we’re gonna do now. We’re going to respectfully say our goodbyes to my brother and your husband. There’s no room for guilt in this room, not today. You got that, Sara? You take all that guilt and you shove it away. I mean it.” As if he thought he could will the culpability away, Lincoln glared at her, tight-lipped and stony.

To be so sure of something, to have such faith when you had no reason to; Sara envied that about Lincoln. She inhaled deeply, briefly closing her eyes. Be strong. If you can’t be strong for you, be strong for Lincoln. Lie to him without saying a word. Sara opened her eyes and gave a stiff nod just as a knock came at the door.

***

It was all so anticlimactic. Sara didn’t know what she’d expected, but it hadn’t been the quiet, somberness of all those around her as the mask was removed from his face. She stared down at him, not recognizing the still being on the bed as her husband. Maybe Lincoln was right. Maybe he had left a long time ago. The doctor and nursing staff were silent and still; this was just another regrettable task they were designated to perform within the course of their workday.

His heartbeat didn’t quicken like she’d hoped. His chest didn’t continue to lift up and down as she’d told herself it would. Lincoln held one hand and she the other, the two of them trying to force life into him from theirs. His parents stood behind Lincoln, his father stoic and his mother quietly weeping. There were some things that couldn’t heal, no matter how long the wrong had been committed. She knew her relationship with her husband’s parents was one of those things. Their connection was cracked beyond repair. It didn’t matter, not now.

She looked up at the same time Lincoln did, saw him breaking on the inside though he remained impassive on the outside. It was in his eyes; his gray eyes were shattered. She had to look away before she shattered as well.

Sara leaned forward and rested her forehead against his cool one. “I love you, Cole. I always will. Be at peace,” she whispered, teardrops falling from her eyes and landing on his expressionless face. She watched one tear trickle down his forehead and touch the corner of his eye before moving on to rest on his too prominent cheekbone. It was as though he cried as well.

For the merest of seconds, his face was as she remembered it. The piercing blueness of his eyes, his lips lifting into a smile; it blinded her and tore her breath from her lungs like he’d sucked it away and back into himself for one stolen minute of life before all existence was gone. Sara saw him as he’d been before the wreck, and then once again, she saw him as he really was.

The beats lessened, slowly trailing off and ending. Her breaths became quicker as his became nothing. Sara was trying to breathe enough for the both of them, but it was pointless. The countdown until he was officially pronounced dead had run its course. She was frozen, her eyes glued to his face. Move. Make a sound. Come back.

Nothing. There was nothing.

The monitor stopped with one terrible, never-ending beeeeeep. Sara’s entire body jerked with the pain of her heart being severed and ripped from her as the realization that he was truly gone and would never come back slammed through her. Someone unplugged the machine, a faceless being registered with her peripheral vision.

“I’m messy and a slob and I like beer a little too much. I work long hours and I like to be outside more than inside. I’m restless and reckless, and yes, I admit, a pervert. Upon occasion. But I love you. I’ve never loved anyone like I love you, Sara. Never will. I want to be with you until I take my last breath, and even when I take my last breath, I want it to be next to you. Please. Redeem my selfish soul and make it better, make me better. Say you’ll be my wife.”

The last breath was a sigh, an unspoken final goodbye, and the world stopped. No one moved; the silence almost intolerable. The quiet was filled with pain so thick to utter a single word would destroy her, him, all of them. Sara watched him, willing him to breathe on his own, to make his heart start again, willing him to open his eyes. The minutes dragged on, the profound loss unbearable to her. Sara pressed a lingering kiss to his stiff, cold lips, saying a silent farewell. She pulled back, unable to look away from the soulless shell that no longer housed her husband. Come back. Sara knew he wouldn’t, but it didn’t stop her from wishing it anyway. He was gone. He wasn’t coming back. Never again.

She unconsciously cried out and fell back against a desk, close to collapsing. She wanted to lie down, close her eyes, curl up in a ball, and become dust, nothing, erased. Instead Sara turned and blindly fled from the room, bumping into a nurse on her way out. Sara’s heart pounded so hard inside her chest she thought it was going to slam right through her body. She couldn’t see. She didn’t know where she was going. She only knew she had to escape.

There was a buzzing in her ears, getting louder and louder, so loud she wanted to scream just to hear something other than it. Never again. Sara stumbled, almost falling over as a wave of pain hit her, slashing into her midsection with a knife of agony. She bent at the waist, trying to shield herself from the inward ache there was no relief from.

“Sara!”

Sara shoved her shoulder against the metal door that led to the stairs, jarring it at the impact. She rushed forward and swayed at the edge of the winding steps, almost tumbling down them. For an instant she contemplated letting herself go, but instead her hand reached out for the railing. Never again. A sob was torn from her lips, grating to her ears. She was falling again; falling on the inside, falling on the outside.

The world swayed and Sara sank to the cool floor, shaking and dizzy. Her eyes wouldn’t focus, the buzzing in her ears was now a roar, and she thought she was going to vomit. She leaned her head forward and a flash of his lifeless face greeted her. Sara whimpered, covering her face with her hands and rocking forward and backward.

She sat there, images and words and emotions hitting her one after another, overlapping and melding into a collage of him that was heartbreaking to endure. The way his laugh had made her laugh. His eyes that had always looked at her so intently, so focused on her and nothing else. His arms, warm and sure, enveloping her within them, making her feel safe. The way his kisses had taken her breath and given her life at the same time.

Never again.

The arms wrapped around her from behind, two muscled thighs cocooned her frame. Sara stiffened. Her first inclination was to move away, but she couldn’t, not this time. She needed to feel a connection with another human and she knew Lincoln needed it as well. It fit, somehow, that they should mourn together. Sara’s hands gripped his forearms of their own accord, and when he rested his chin on her shoulder, she felt the tears from his eyes dampen her skin through her thin shirt. His citrus scent was familiar and welcomed; the feel of his soft hair against her cheek a caress of empathy. She slowly relaxed, her eyelids sliding shut. Lincoln’s chest trembled against her back and she cried for Lincoln as much as she cried for herself and for him.

Time ticked by, slow and painful; that horrible thing inescapable no matter how much she wanted to. They quietly grieved him and each other. He was gone, and so was a part of her, and so was a part of Lincoln. Sara inhaled and exhaled, gently pulling away. She moved down a step, still sitting with her back to Lincoln, but not touching.

“He always wanted to be more like you. He said you had all the brains and talent and he just had the brawn. He said it annoyed the piss out of him because he was the older brother and you were supposed to look up to him, not the other way around,” Sara said softly, staring at the white wall.

A long pause ensued before Lincoln said brokenly, “I looked up to him.”

She nodded, blinking her eyes against the endless tears. “He knew you did. He loved you so much, Lincoln. If we…” Sara swallowed as a fresh wave of pain washed over her; a different kind of pain, but as profound as the pain of losing him. The pain of a lost child never held, never seen. “If we’d had a baby, he said he hoped he or she took after you more than him. He said, of course, he or she could take after me however much they wanted.” Her voice cracked.

Lincoln didn’t say anything for a long time. Sara knew why. If he tried to talk, he would break down, lose control. She’d been there. She was there now.

His voice was strained when he finally said, “Come on. Let’s get a cup of coffee. Or not. I don’t care. As long as we leave here. I don’t want you to be alone. And I don’t want to be alone either.”

She heard and felt him move behind her and a hand appeared before her face. Sara looked up, flinching at the damaged look of Lincoln. His shoulders were hunched as though to protect himself against unfathomable anguish and there were brackets around his lips. Without thought, Sara stood and grabbed him, pulling his stiff body to her. He slowly hugged her back and when he did, it was crushing, but essential. They were struggling, both of them. It was real. How could it be real?

“I don’t want to be alone,” Sara whispered. If she was alone, she feared she’d disappear and never come back. She’d lose herself and be trapped within herself, like him. Sara would disintegrate.

She began to walk down the steps, her legs stiff, her movements jerky. The walls and stairs moved around her, shrinking and growing before her, and she paused as a wave of dizziness plowed into her.

“Sara?”

He’s gone. Sara closed her eyes, swaying back and into Lincoln. His hands gripped her shoulders and steadied her. Nausea formed in her stomach and Sara stumbled down the rest of the stairs and outside, falling to her knees and retching in the bushes beside the tan-stoned hospital.

She dry-heaved long after the small amount of food in her stomach was gone. An acidic taste in her mouth and over her teeth and tongue, Sara grimaced. The cold chilled her more than she already was, biting and unforgiveable. It jabbed at her, stabbing its hatred toward her into the sensitive skin of her flesh. Even the wind blamed her. You just killed your husband, it shrieked. Her body jerked from the icy air, from the guilt. It registered in her head that Lincoln was behind her, holding her hair away from her face. It was too much. Sara hung her head, the pain building and building and rupturing from her in broken sobs.

“Come on, Sara, let’s take you home.” Lincoln let her hair fall through his fingers and reached for her.

Sara let him help her, let him escort her to his truck. Her teeth chattered. The ice was crawling up her legs, entering her heart, and freezing it over. When he buckled her in, she wept harder. Sara was dying, dimming, fracturing. Lincoln stood by the door, saying nothing. He didn’t have to. Finally he shut the door and got in on the other side of the truck.

***

The thought of going into their house, knowing with an aching finality he would never be in it again, was something Sara couldn’t deal with. Lincoln somehow knew that and had wordlessly driven to his house instead of hers. How long they’d sat in the unmoving and quiet truck, Sara had no recollection.

The truck was off. She stared straight ahead, seeing him standing on the deck, adjusting his baseball cap, laughing. She could smell the dirt layered on him from work, the somehow sweet taste of beer on his lips. He turned and winked at her, his blue eyes promising he’d love her in all forms once they got home. She sucked in a painful breath, bending over from the agony of it. It was happening. Sara was finally crumbling, splintering into so many pieces she’d never be able to be put back together again.

“Sara?”

Lincoln’s fingers grazed her arm as she fumbled with the door handle, falling out of the truck and landing on the cold ground. She stayed that way, crouching, wanting to sink completely into the ground. Sara’s fingers clawed through the icy slush; her nails finding grass and dirt beneath it. Choked sounds of pain left her and Sara crawled, head down, out of her mind with grief. She wanted to be where he was; if he was nowhere, that’s where she wanted to be. Let me die. Let me close my eyes and not wake up. Let me be with him. Please. I never asked You for anything. Just this one time I’m asking You. Let me be with him! Sara flung her head back and howled. She screamed and screamed with all the agony living inside her. It wasn’t enough. It still hurt. She was full of anguish, would never be able to get rid of it all.

Strong hands grabbed her under her arms, pulling her up and away from the cold, hard ground. Sara fought. She didn’t know why. She just knew she had to. He would thwart her plan. Lincoln would keep her away from what she wanted. Death. She wanted to die. She wanted to be with her husband. Sara kicked her legs and slapped at him, tortured gasps and cries bursting from her. She was hot; she was on fire, why didn’t she burn up and melt? Pieces of her were chipping, falling away, leaving her. What was she? Who was she? Ugly. Sara was ugly. She was ugly without him.

“Let me go!” she shrieked, turning around and shoving him.

Lincoln stumbled back, his chest heaving, tears streaming down his chiseled features.

“I killed him! This is my fault! I killed him! He’s dead. Because of me. He’s dead.” Sara couldn’t breathe, she continued to breathe, she wanted to stop breathing. In and out, in and out, still she breathed. Sara breathed too fast, she breathed too heavily, but she still breathed. Her lungs were on fire, her body scorching, her throat dry flint ready for the littlest of sparks. And then she could burn up and die.

“Stop this,” he pleaded in a low voice, a voice Sara barely heard under the roar of the flames burning her from the inside out.

Sara tried to speak and only mewing sounds found their way out. The flames licked at her soul, turning it to ash. She was numb. Nothing was left inside her. It was all gone. Burned up. Dead. Ashes. Dust.

Lincoln opened his arms, his head slightly tilted. He waited. If Sara went to him, he’d burn up with her too.

“I killed him.”

He shook his head, not speaking, arms still open. Waiting. Always waiting for her.

“I want to die,” she confessed. “I’ve tried…I want to die, Lincoln.”

Lincoln’s face distorted. “Don’t you fucking say that, Sara!” he thundered, storming toward her. “You don’t ever say that again, you understand?” Lincoln’s voice shook. “Stop saying it, stop thinking it.” His fingers dug into her arms, showing her she wasn’t dead, not yet.

“I’m lost. I’m lost and you can’t save me, Lincoln.” Sara stared up into his pained eyes, caressing his features with her gaze. He was always trying to save her.

His jaw clenched and his grip turned painful. “Yes. I can. I will. I just lost my brother. I’m not losing you too. I’m never losing you, Sara, never. I’m not letting you go. Ever. Your life is worth living. You don’t get the right to throw that away.”

Date: 2015-04-20; view: 512