“It doesn’t hurt as much. I don’t know if it’s because I’m away from it all or if it’s because I’m simply healing. But I can think of him without feeling like my heart is being ripped out. I can think his name. I can say his name. Slowly, painfully, my wounds are closing. I know it won’t take weeks or months to be completely healed. I don’t know if I ever will be. But at least I can breathe without feeling like my insides are being crushed.
“I…” Sara swallowed and turned away from the window. “You don’t remind me of him, Lincoln; you obliterate him. That makes me sad and relieved all at once.” Sara’s throat tightened. “I’m losing him, the part of me that loves him; it’s leaving, fading. I hate that, but I know it has to happen. He’s gone. I finally accept that Cole’s gone. It hurts. I know it will always hurt. But you…you make it stop hurting. I miss you, Lincoln. At first I told myself it was because I was lonely. I told myself a lot of things at first, but I do…I really do. I know…I know you can never replace him. I don’t want that. I see you now, Lincoln. I think I always did, but I wouldn’t let myself. I see you and I—“ She bit her lip to keep the declaration in. The silence from Lincoln was thick and full of longing. She could feel it; hers mirrored his. “I see you. I know that, if nothing else,” Sara said lamely. “I’m not making sense. Good night. Take care, Lincoln.”
***
The rain pelted against the glass, blurring the darkened world outside the room. Sara stared at the rivulets as they slid down the pane, each one a piece of her past washing away. She looked at her reflection, sucking in a sharp breath at the face looking back at her. It wasn’t her own. A sad smile partially lifted his lips and his eyes stared all the love he had for her, would always have for her, back at her.
“Cole,” she whispered, her tears mocking the raindrops on the window as they trailed down her cheeks. “I miss you, Cole.” Sara’s throat was tight and her chest ached. That part of her heart that would always belong to Cole mourned him. “It scares me that he’s taking over your place in my heart.”
“He’s not taking it over, Sara. You’re just making room for him. You do have the capability to love more than one person.” She heard the grin in his voice, closed her eyes to better hear him.
“But I think of him instead of you. I want him like I used to want you.”
“You should. He’s alive. I’m not. I get it, Sara. I’m okay with it. You’re the one who isn’t and has to be.” A pause. “Take care, Sara.”
Sara lifted a palm to his face and it shifted away like sand in the wind, one tiny particle at a time until only her image could be seen. She couldn’t see him, but his words stayed with her, whether actually heard or imagined. Take care, Sara.
***
“You’re ready to go.”
Sara played with a dandelion in the grass, staining her fingers with yellow. She brushed her fingertips over the soft petals, thinking of Lincoln’s lips. Sara shivered in spite of the humid, hot day; her clothes unpleasantly sticking to her.
“How can you tell?” she asked Dana, glancing to where she sat cross-legged on the blanket, surprisingly sprite for one so old. She wore a purple and hot pink zigzagged shirt and silver capris. Sara wore a more muted down outfit; a white tee shirt and black cotton shorts.
The tree they sat under afforded shade, but little respite from the heat. It had been close to eight weeks since Sara had made the trip to Waupun, lost and confused. She wasn’t either of those things anymore, though she also wasn’t exactly whole.
She and Dana had gotten closer over the weeks, spending more than their habitual morning coffee and doughnut time together; going for walks, Dana playing the local tour guide to Sara, watching movies at night, sitting on Dana’s deck that was connected to the motel. Sara absolutely thought the world of Dana. In her she’d found a friend. They looked like grandmother and granddaughter, but that had little bearing on their kinship.
Dana drank from her glass of vegetable juice, the ice clinking against her teeth as she tipped her head back. “Your eyes. They aren’t so sad. Your back is straighter. You don’t hesitate with every action or word you say. You’re ready.”
It was all true. The oozing hole of agony was shrinking, deteriorating in size and power over her. She could finally breathe again, on her own. And that was what she’d needed before she could begin to absolve herself of responsibility over circumstances out of her control.
Sara pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head and gave Dana her full attention. “How did you meet my parents?”
A smile stretched Dana’s red lips. “Darcy and Jim. My second husband was distantly related to them. Very distantly. I met them at a family reunion many, many years ago, before your time. There was something about your mother that drew me to her, much like I was drawn to you; an inner spark, a flame that wouldn’t be snuffed out; a quiet strength that seemed frail, but was stronger than steel. People like that get underestimated a lot, I’ve found. Sometimes they even underestimate themselves.”