Take Care, Sara by Lindy Zart_ 16 page

Tim crooned about remembering him after he was gone, causing chills to go up and down Sara’s arms. The tears came then and that was no surprise, but the surprise was it didn’t hurt quite as much as it usually did. There was hollowness inside where her love for him had once been. It saddened her that that was what their love had been torn down to.

With a deep sigh, she wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her sweatshirt and pushed the button to open the garage door. The garage door rumbled up, creaking as it went, allowing sunshine and a view of the street in. Sara jiggled the keys in her hand, hauling herself into the cab. It smelled like fresh linen and a fine layer of dust covered the dash.

Sara inhaled and exhaled deeply as she sat in his truck, recollections swirling around her, sucking her into a happier time.

“We’re gonna have a little white ranch-style house ‘cause I’m too lazy to climb stairs. You’re going to plant some pretty flowers.”

“Really? You think so?” Sara grinned as she gazed at the pink and orange sunset from the passenger side window of the truck.

“I know so. We gotta make our residence presentable so we don’t scare possible visitors off.”

“Visitors.” Sara shuddered.

He laughed, deep and low. “You’re right. They’ll interrupt our alone time.”

“Our alone time or the time you’re hoping we’re spending having sex?”

“Same difference.”

The summer day was turning into night, the heat slowly lowering as dusk approached. Sara smiled, enjoying the warm breeze fluttering through her hair from the partially opened window. “And then what?”

“Then, let’s see, two kids?”

She shrugged. “Sure.” Sara glanced at his profile, watching as a slow smile formed to his lips.

“We best get started on that ASAP. That is a prerogative.”

Sara laughed, touching his lips with her index finger. “We can at least wait until after the wedding.” He kissed the tip of her finger, his blue eyes flashing heat at her.

“Right. But there’s no reason we can’t practice our form until then.”

She leaned across the console and planted her lips on his rough cheek, giving him a slobbery kiss. “Love you.”

“Love ya, babe. Even your drool.” He winked, turning his gaze back to the road.

The smile didn’t immediately fade with the memory and Sara was glad of that. She inhaled deeply, almost feeling as if he was sitting beside her, smiling with her.

***

“It’s not Sunday,” she said as she opened the door, cool air rushing into the warmth of the house, causing Sara to shiver.

“I realize that.” Mason’s eyebrows lifted as he waited.

“Uncle Mason?” a little voice chimed and Sara’s gaze was pulled down.

“Sundays aren’t really helping, are they, Sara?”

Sara shifted, her eyes never leaving the blond-haired boy with wine-colored eyes. The boy was a miniature Mason. “Who’s this?” she asked, ignoring the question that really hadn’t needed to be asked.

Mason smiled. “Can we come inside?”

She blinked, opening the door wider. “Oh. Yeah. Come in.” Sara closed the door behind them, crossing her arms and leaning against it.

“It’s obvious I’m not the one helping you,” he said. “Lincoln, right?”

Sara looked away, again not answering. Lincoln—everything with Lincoln was a mess. There were so many emotions involved where he was concerned and Sara was unable to sort through them at all. At least, not yet. The longer she kept her distance, the bigger the chasm inside her grew. She wanted so badly to go to him, but she didn’t know what to do after that.

“Uncle Mason, I’m hungry,” the boy said, tugging his gray baseball cap lower on his head.

“I know, buddy. We’ll leave in just a bit. I just wanted to say hi to my friend quick, remember?”

Uncle Mason? She offered the boy a smile. He had a serious face, his eyes watchful. “Hi. I’m Sara. What’s your name?”

“Derek.”

Sara’s eyes flew to Mason’s. He shrugged; a small smile on his face. “I thought it was time you two met.”

“Derek?” she repeated slowly. “This is Derek? The one you talk to?”

Mason put his arm around Derek, hugging him to his side. “Yep. The reason I had to get my head out of my butt.”

Derek giggled, clapping little hands over his mouth. “You said butt!”

“He’s your brother’s son?” Sara asked, blinking her eyes against tears.

“Yeah. Annie was pregnant when…” He looked at his nephew, his throat working. Mason shrugged, not finishing his sentence. He took a deep breath and continued, “I took one look at this chubby, wide-eyed baby and I wanted to live. I wanted to be someone he could be proud of.”

She knelt before the small boy. “You are one special little being, you know that?”

Derek smiled, nodding his head. “Yep. Uncle Mason tells me that all the time.”

“And how old are you?”

“I’m four and a half and I go to 4K and Mrs. Matthews is my teacher and she smells like flowers, but they don’t smell good. They stink.” He wrinkled his nose up.

Sara laughed. “Oh, really?”

“Uh-huh. Uncle Mason is taking me to Pizza Hut today because my mom needs a break and she calls Uncle Mason when she needs a break. But that’s okay because I like Uncle Mason. I don’t like his girlfriend because—“

“Okay, buddy,” Mason interrupted, “that’s probably enough.”

Sara glanced up at Mason, a grin on her lips. She looked at Derek. “What’s wrong with your Uncle Mason’s girlfriend?”

Derek shrugged, fidgeting. “She wears too much makeup and she’s always trying to kiss him and it’s gross.”

“She must like him a lot.”

“I guess. Can we go now?” Derek asked, looking at his uncle.

Sara straightened, catching the expression on Mason’s face as he looked at his nephew. He was looking at his world. She inhaled slowly.

“Thank you, Mason, for everything,” she said, meaning it.

He nodded. “If you ever want to talk or just want to stop to say hi, here’s my card.” Mason pulled a black business card from his jeans pocket.

Sara took it. “I will. So you’re releasing me, huh?”

“It was never about me, Sara. It was about you and what or who helped you the most. It hurts my ego to admit it wasn’t me.”

She nodded, glancing away. “Right. Um…before you leave, can I show you something first?”

“Of course.” Mason turned to Derek. “One more minute, bud.”

Derek sighed. “Okay.”

“You got your book?”

The boy nodded, taking a tiny book from his pocket.

“You can sit at the table and look at it, all right?”

“All right.”

Mason motioned for her to proceed. A chair to the table scraped the floor as Derek pulled it out, situating himself at the table with his book. Sara smiled faintly, turning away.

Every step that took her closer to the paintings made it a little harder for her to breathe. Sara forced her footsteps closer to their destination, her pulse racing. She grabbed the doorknob and tugged, opening the door to the studio.

Two paintings stood against the wall, side by side. Sara stared at them, her heart giving a twinge. One was of a closed blue door, the other the same blue door opened to show gray eyes. It was haunting and mysterious.

“What does it mean?” Mason asked from behind her.

Sara shook her head. “I don’t know. It just…my mind wandered both times and this is what I came up with. Once before he died and the other time after.”

“Who has gray eyes?”

She turned around. “Lincoln has gray eyes.”

Mason smiled softly. “I thought so. It’s okay, Sara.”

“I don’t think it is,” she whispered.

“You know…holding on isn’t holding on. It’s letting go.”

“I don’t know what that means.” She blinked and a tear dropped to her cheek.

“You will,” Mason vowed, moving forward to hug her.

“It hasn’t been long enough,” she said into his shoulder, returning the hug. In the person she’d last thought she would, Sara had found a friend.

Mason pulled away. “Life isn’t measured in time, Sara, but by moments. When you figure that out, you’ll be golden.”

Sara blinked her stinging eyes; turning away from Mason’s knowing ones.

“I think you have all your answers. You just have to see them. I got a hungry nephew to feed. Like I said, anytime you want to talk, look me up. I won’t even charge you.”

See me, Lincoln had pleaded. Sara briefly closed her eyes and more tears fell to her face. She opened her eyes, shaking the memory away. “That notebook you gave me?”

He paused at the doorway, looking over his shoulder at her. “Yeah?”

“It’s full of sketches,” Sara admitted.

Mason smiled. “I’m glad.”

“Thank you, Mason,” Sara said, her voice trembling with emotion.

“I didn’t do anything, Sara.”

“So I should thank you for nothing?” A small smile formed to her lips.

Mason laughed. “Yeah. You’d be surprised by how many times I’m told that, actually.” He tapped his fingers on the doorframe. “See you around, Sara.”

“’Bye, Sara!” Derek called and she called a goodbye in return as they walked out the door.

Sara inhaled deeply, closing her eyes. She missed Lincoln. The ache in her chest widened, became painful. That connection they’d had, before and after they’d explored one another’s bodies in the most intimate way; she needed it. She needed him. Even if they couldn’t be what he wanted them to be, Sara couldn’t imagine her life without him in it. It was his voice she longed to hear, his arms Sara wanted to feel around her. When had it all changed?

***

The ring that never left her finger, other than when it slid off, was heavy. It weighed her down, like the love she had yet to completely say goodbye to, like the past she had to move forward from. Was it as simple as removing a ring? Would the shedding of it take all she couldn’t get over with it as well? Sara took it off her finger, raising it to eyelevel. It twinkled when the sunlight filtering in through the thin bedroom curtains caught it. It was a solitaire diamond. Simple.

Sara placed the cool metal to her lips and kissed it, clasping it tight within her hand for a moment. Closing her eyes, she bowed her head, willing the release to come, willing the ache to go away. It didn’t. Neither happened. It was a silly thought.

With a sigh, Sara opened the jewelry box on the dresser that housed rings and earrings and necklaces; all the things she used to wear and no longer did. There was a silver cross necklace her mother and father had given her as a graduation gift from high school. With a twinge, she pulled it out and clasped it around her neck, feeling closer to them merely by putting it on. They’d touched it once, they’d bought it for her; it was link to them.

Sara set the wedding ring down on the cream-cushioned interior, resisting the impulse to pick it back up, and with resolve stiffening her jaw, she picked out a pair of white crystal studs and a ring. Tucking her hair behind her ears, she put the earrings in her lobes and pushed the silver-leafed ring on the middle finger of her right hand.

She stared at the image looking back at her, noting the smudges under her eyes and the hollowed-out part below her cheekbones. Sara didn’t recognize the face; it wasn’t the one she remembered. The features were the same, but the look; that was something new. Continually beaten down, but still standing; that was the look in her eyes; that was Sara. You are strong, she thought, her brows lifting at the truth of it. Sara blinked; a little piece of herself given back to her with that realization.

***

She found him in the woods, surrounded by blooming trees and newly born grass. The earth was back to life. Sara envied it. The air was cool, crisp. Birds flew past, singing their joy. It smelled like fresh grass and Sara inhaled deeply, feeling like maybe she was looking at a form of perfection.

Lincoln wore dark jeans and a gray tee shirt. Sara’s heartbeat picked up at the same time her stomach swooped. Something inside her, maybe all of her, sighed at the sight of Lincoln. She dug her hands into the pockets of her light jacket and stopped beside him. Lincoln didn’t look at her, but Sara knew he knew she was there. His body slightly shifted toward hers, unconsciously pulled to her.

“I love you, Sara.”

The air was stolen from her lungs at that admission. “Lincoln—“

“I love you so much it hurts.” He turned his head toward her, his eyes glaring the truth at her, demanding her to see it. “My heart literally aches when you’re not around, even when you are. My throat tightens and there’s this horrible pressure in my chest. Because you’re not mine and I want you to be, and even if you were, I don’t know that this fucked up feeling would go away. It’s…it’s…part of me.” Lincoln muttered something, wearily running a hand through his dark waves as he looked away.

Again she tried to speak and he cut her off with a steely look. “I think of you all the time, I see your face in my dreams, I even feel you in the wind. I know it should be wrong, I know it shouldn’t be happening. It shouldn’t have happened, but it did. Or maybe it was supposed to happen. I don’t know. But now…” His throat convulsed. “Now I just love you and it’s all I can do and it’s all I’ll do. Forever. I’ll just keep loving you.” Lincoln turned shiny eyes from her to stare through the wooded forest.

Sara’s followed his and she saw her husband waiting for her in his black tuxedo, his eyes lit up with happiness, a grin on his lips. The vision of their wedding day faded and it was a forest of trees once more, but the sorrow stayed. It always did. Such a powerful thing: sadness. It had the power to wipe out happiness in the span of one second. Sara knew.

“He’d want you to be happy. Cole wouldn’t want you to be pining after him for the rest of your life, scared to live, scared to love again.”

“I know,” she said quietly.

“But you’re going to keep hiding, aren’t you? You’re going to keep denying yourself, denying us, until everything we have, or could have, is gone. Because you’re scared.” Lincoln faced her again, his eyes too bright. “You don’t think I’m scared too? Every breath I take is full of fear, but I keep breathing. I keep hoping, even though it scares the fuck out of me. Because the thought of losing you, of not having you at all, scares me more.”

It was happening. She was falling, being torn apart, and this time, it was in the anguish she witnessed in Lincoln’s eyes. The pain she’d put there.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Lincoln,” she whispered. “There are things I don’t understand, and one of them is how I feel about you. I know I think about you all the time, I know I miss you when we’re not together. But what it all means…I don’t know. I have to learn how to move on without him and I’m stumbling right now. I have to learn how to accept that he’s gone and even though it’s not okay, I can still be okay. Somehow. I have to do this on my own, Lincoln. Otherwise…” Sara took a deep breath. “Otherwise I’ll never be okay. Not for myself, not for you, not for anyone.”

Lincoln exhaled noisily, squinting into the sun. “I know what you’re saying, I do. But…it doesn’t stop the way I’m feeling. Ya know, I always wanted to be like him. But not this time. This time I want nothing to be like him. I only want to be me. And I want that to be what you want. I want you to look at me and see me, not him. I don’t want to be a reminder. I want you to look at me and forget him.” Lincoln faced her, the force of him overpowering.

“I want you to want me for me. But you have to let go of him to find me, Sara. I can’t be the filler guy. I won’t be. So you have to figure that out. You have to decide what I am and you have to mean it. I’m yours. I just want to make sure, I have to know, that you’re mine. So you go do what you have to do.”

She blinked her tear-filled eyes, the chasm inside her lengthening. “Okay, Lincoln.”

“Okay.” He showed her his profile, his features stiff, unyielding.

Sara turned in the direction of her car, lost once more, and was immediately grabbed and whirled around. Lincoln threaded his fingers through her hair, pulling her face up, and assaulted her lips with his. Longing crashed over her and Sara responded to Lincoln’s fire with her own, her body thrumming with need. She grabbed his hair and twined it around her fingers. Lincoln moaned, moving them against a tree. The rough bark abraded her skin through the thin material of her jacket. He kissed her with a raw need, hunger in every touch of his lips to hers.

Lincoln tore his lips away, eliciting a whimper of yearning from Sara. His chest heaved up and down and his eyes blazed with passion as he stared down at her. “You think about this moment, right now, while you’re out finding yourself, Sara. ‘Cause you know what? I already found you. You’re mine. I’m yours. I know it. You know it. You just have to see it.”

***

The need to have a connection to him, even if only from her end, had been strong and Sara had walked into the garage before she’d known what she was doing. She’d stayed away for so long; not moving forward, but now it was time. She had to do it for herself, if she ever wanted to be at peace; if she ever wanted to be happy; even if she ever wanted to have a future with another man. Lincoln’s gray eyes shimmered in her mind and she pushed them away. This was for her. He couldn’t be a part of it, though he always was with her, no matter what she was doing or not doing. Imbedded into her heart, her soul, her being.

The boxes were endless; her past sprawled out around her in cards, letters, and photographs. Sara sat on the dirty floor of the garage, randomly plucking a faded piece of paper from the top of the box. She opened it, laughing shakily as she read the note.

Roses are red

Violets are blue

I got a boner

And it’s because of you.

Happy Valentine’s Day.

She wiped her damp eyes, staring at his messy handwriting. Sara had loved everything about him; even his warped sense of humor. She set the note back in the box. Sara sorted through her past, keeping remembrances of him she could never part with, setting aside all she could. She found a black baseball cap with a snowmobile logo on it and set it on her head as she reconnected with what she’d lost. Halfway through she even grabbed a beer from the mini-fridge, but it was old and she didn’t like Busch Light anyway. One drink and she tossed it out.

The doors of the house were open; as were the doors to the future. It was time. It hurt. But it was time. She couldn’t live in the house anymore; she couldn’t live in the past. Sara had finally come to terms with that, though knowing something didn’t make it hurt any less.

She’d taken most of their belongings to be auctioned off. Sara knew she had to start over fresh, and even the most generic of items were reminders of him. Not that she wanted to forget; never that, but Sara wouldn’t be able to progress beyond what she now was if he was staring her in the face every place she looked. The house was so empty, but it didn’t feel emptier. Everything that had meant anything to her had been gone for close to seven months now.

An offer had been made on the house and Sara was going to accept it. The truck was gone; the camper as well. Each time she parted with a piece of him, of Cole, she was brought that much closer to herself, whoever she was. Sara had to think his name; say his name, to make it real. She had to let go of him to find herself, to live. Sometimes she felt guilty about that, but most times Sara felt as though the restriction on her lungs had loosened a bit. He was with her; Cole would always be with her, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t move on as well.

And then there was Lincoln.

Lincoln was absent from her everyday living, but never far from her mind. Sara didn’t know where they would go from here, what would become of them. She knew she missed him, everything about him. He had been the one solidarity in the flowing river of her despair, a lifejacket to keep her from drowning. But did she love him? Could she love him without feeling remorse? It was hard to think about him without thinking of Cole. None of this would even be an issue if he was still alive. But he wasn’t. And it was.

I saw you first, whispered through her, causing her to shiver. Lincoln saw her first, but she didn’t see him, not really, not till now.

Sara finished up with the last box, adjusting her teal blue cotton shorts and purple top as she stood. It was done now; all of him designated to cardboard boxes. Not that he could ever truly be kept within a box; he was in her heart and that was the safest, soundest place for Cole to be. Sara took a deep breath, trying to center the contradiction that was her. The need to see Lincoln; the need to stay away. The need to never let Cole go; the need to let him go.

All that was left was to remove the belongings from the house, along with her. That day would be upon her soon. In less than a week Sara was leaving. She couldn’t leave without saying goodbye. Sara looked at the neat boxes sitting around her legs, stacked in rows. She turned away from her past. Sorrow and relief hit her as she left the garage. The sun was warm, soothing as it heated her. She looked at the house they’d bought together, remembering the wilting flowers around it, remembering their first night in the house, remembering him. Sara brushed tears from her eyes and pointed herself in the direction that would take her to Lincoln. She began to walk.

It was Sunday, which meant chances were good Lincoln wouldn’t be working. Sara knew that wasn’t always the case, especially with the weather nice as it was. Sunny days were working days for builders, no matter the day of the week. She had no words planned, nothing was forthcoming as far as what she should say when she saw him, if she saw him. Please be there.

With each step, her apprehension and anticipation built. Sweat began to trickle down her chest and Sara pulled the rubber band from her wrist and knotted her thick hair at the top of her head.

It took over an hour to reach the house in the woods. It loomed before her, Sara’s pulse speeding up as she took in the structure that epitomized all she loved. All I love? She froze, her hand pausing on her damp brow. Her hand slowly lowered to her side and Sara pushed the shock away, deciding now was not the time to think about that.

But as she walked up the steps of the deck and knocked on the door, seeing that drooping Christmas tree in the window, emotions she couldn’t ignore, not this time, slammed into her. Why hadn’t he taken it down yet?

“What are you doing here?”

Sara whirled around, her heartbeat escalating as she took in his unclothed chest. It was bronzed from the sun, muscled from daily physical labor. She knew that chest. Sara had run her fingers over it, smelled it, kissed it, felt it pushed against hers. Her eyes went up, meeting his dark gray ones. Lincoln’s hair was damp with perspiration and winged up around his ears and on the back of his neck, making him appear younger than he was. The black athletic shorts he wore hung low on his hips, showing the toned cords of his lower abdomen. She wanted him. Sara wanted Lincoln to hold her, kiss her, never let her go. Oh God, when had it happened? When had the emotions shifted, turned into more, become love?

“Were you running?”

“Yeah,” was Lincoln’s curt response.

“Why’d you keep the tree?” she blurted.

His eyes shifted down as he slammed a hand on his hip. “I felt sorry for it.” His pose was belligerent, like the set of his jaw.

Sara walked down a step. “You felt sorry for a tree?”

“Yeah. I did. It just…it looked so pitiful and tried so hard to survive and…yeah, I kept it. What do you care?” Lincoln scowled at her.

Another step.

“Why are you here anyway? I thought you needed time, space, whatever.” Lincoln’s words were harsh, but his voice was strained, like he was struggling to stay in control, like he was hurting on the inside and trying to hide it on the outside.

“It reminded you of me, didn’t it?”

“No,” he quickly denied.

“Liar.” She was almost to him.

“It has a much nicer disposition.”

Sara stopped before him, smelling sunlight and sweat, and underneath that, Lincoln. Emotions welled up, threatened to burst through her and expose all she felt.

“Why are you here, Sara?” Lincoln repeated slowly, his eyes locked with hers. There was something in his expression, a vulnerability she’d never seen before. Her heart squeezed.

“I’m leaving.”

He stiffened, his eyes, his face, everything shutting down. “What?”

Sara brushed hair from her face with a trembling hand. “I got a temporary place up north. I’m going to stay there for a month or so, maybe two. The house…” she trailed off, her throat tightening.

“What about the house?”

“I’m going to accept an offer on it tomorrow. I’m getting rid of everything, Lincoln. I’m…” Sara stopped when Lincoln showed her his back. It was taut, sculpted, and shaking. Her fingers yearned to touch him, to trace a pale thin scar on his left shoulder blade, to take the quiver from it.

“You’re leaving,” he said in a dead voice.

“Only for a little while. Just until…until I have things sorted out.” Sara watched his back move with the force of his breaths.

Lincoln turned and glared at her. “What is there to sort out?”

You. I’m scared of what I feel for you. I don’t know how to accept it yet. I’m scared of what you feel for me. The way you look at me; like I’m everything, it scares me. When I look at you, I’m lost in you. I’m trying to find myself and I can’t do that with the distraction of you. You consume everything. But she couldn’t say any of that.

Sara swallowed, glancing down. Her throat was dry. “Me, Lincoln. I need to sort me out.”

“Up north where?”

“I don’t know if—if I should tell you,” she said, looking down at the ground.

“Afraid I’ll follow you? Don’t worry. I won’t.” His words were cold, final, and they hurt.

Sara’s eyes jerked to his and Lincoln looked away from the pain on her face, his expression ashamed. “That was uncalled for.”

“You leaving is uncalled for,” he snapped back. Lincoln closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “God, I’m saying all the wrong things,” he groaned. Lincoln rubbed a hand on the back of his head. “I feel like we’re going around in a circle, you and I. If you know you don’t feel the same as I do, if you know there’s no chance for us, at least tell me, Sara. You don’t have to escape Boscobel to escape me. I’ve kept my distance, for you. It kills me, but I’ve done it. I’ll leave you alone, if that’s what you want. Is that what you want?” Lincoln’s pain-filled eyes met hers.

It broke. Whatever had been keeping her emotions in check shattered and Sara reached for him, feeling complete, centered, only when she finally held him. Lincoln’s skin was hot and hard against hers, wet with sweat, and when his fingers gripped her waist, digging into her flesh, when the hardness of his body was flush with the softness of hers, Sara was lost again. Or found. Maybe Sara had to be lost in him to find herself.

“I love you, Sara, love you so much,” he murmured into her ear, his hands holding her face steady as Lincoln studied her. “I love you,” he repeated, his words thick with the truth of it.

Sara blinked her eyes and tears slid down her cheeks. She couldn’t say it. She loved him; she loved Lincoln, and Sara couldn’t say it. She’d always loved him; that hadn’t changed, but the way she loved him; that had. So much.

He stepped away, dropping his hands from her. She fought the need to touch him again. Lincoln’s face was blank, his eyes dim. Her heart cried at the devastation in the set of his shoulders, in the way he held his head. Sara wanted to ask him to wait for her, to not give up on her, but that wouldn’t be fair to him.

“Have a nice trip,” he muttered, striding for the house.

No. Don’t leave like this. Don’t let it be like this, Sara. Go to him! Run. Tell him you love him. Tell him! No matter how loudly or passionately her conscience shouted at her, Sara didn’t have the power to do it. She couldn’t. Instead she turned around to begin the long walk to the house that soon would no longer be her home.

Sara fiddled with the cellular phone, facing the car. She took a deep breath, staring at the phone number on the phone. It was time to go. Her belongings had been reduced to what was in the car and the rest had been put in a small storage unit until her return. The thought of leaving without telling Lincoln goodbye weighed on her. It felt wrong not to tell him, but she wondered if it was right to tell him. It seemed like that was all she thought about now; what was right and wrong. Was it wrong or right of her to love her husband’s brother? Was it wrong or right of her to want another chance at happiness, though her husband could not? Lincoln felt right; Cole had felt right. What did that say about Sara? Maybe it said absolutely nothing, maybe it didn’t matter, but still, she felt it said something.

Date: 2015-04-20; view: 544