Take Care, Sara

“I thought you were a Dodge boy?”


“Well. Yeah. But look at it! And I won it.”

Sara smiled at Cole. “I like it. Not above the couch, but I like it.”

“So you’re saying I should put the wedding picture back up?” Cole laughed at the look on her face, grabbing her wrist and spinning her into his arms. He kissed her nose, saying, “We are going to be the coolest parents ever.”

Sara blinked her eyes and the sink full of dishwater came into view; a sink full of water and dish soap for two plates, one cup, and a fork and a spoon. The soap smelled like apples and the bubbles make a fizzing sound. Some things were hard to adapt to, even the lack of dirty dishes. She would give anything to have a sink full of dirty dishes if it meant he was still in her life. With a sigh, Sara quickly washed them and set them in the strainer, wondering how such a small task could so completely wear her out. The effort it took to get through each day wore her out.





4


It was Tuesday. Three weeks exactly from Tuesday the 29th of November. That was the date she’d been told to be there, to talk to Dr. Henderson, to do what had been chosen for her to do. It was a countdown of dread for Sara. She would never be ready to talk about what he wanted to talk about. It was unequivocally impossible for her to do what had been designated as her duty long ago.

Her feet unconsciously moved in the direction of the art room she hadn’t entered in months. Sara stopped by it, running a hand over the rough wood, closing her eyes at an onslaught of sorrow. She couldn’t bring herself to open the door. It reminded her of him. Everything in this house did. But she couldn’t forget. She didn’t want to forget. Maybe part of the reason she couldn’t let go, the reason Sara refused to let go, was because if she did, she feared she’d lose him as well. She couldn’t say goodbye to him.

Sara touched her forehead to the door, hot tears pooling in her eyes and dropping to her cheeks. She closed her eyes, shuddering breaths wracking her shoulders, her whole body. Her mind formed the image of his laughing face with the crinkles around his pale blue eyes and she couldn’t move from the pain that came along with it.

She missed his eyes the most. They’d been electrifying, charged with life and passion, able to see every part of Sara there was to see and those she’d rather weren’t seen. The thought of them never being open again, the thought of never staring into them and getting lost in the blue ocean that was her husband’s eyes, it was heart wrenching. Unbearable.

He used to watch her paint. He’d sit in a chair in the corner of the room and watch her for hours. He’d said it soothed him to watch her work. A sob was torn from her and Sara slapped her palm against the door. She wanted him back. Sara wanted to feel his arms around her; she wanted to have his scent cocoon her. This emptiness inside of her; it was killing her.

“Don’t cry, Sara.”

She inhaled sharply, spinning around. Her eyes scanned the kitchen, looking for a body and face to put with the voice. There was no one. I’m losing my mind. Sara slumped against the door. She put a shaking hand to her temples, closing her eyes.

“He wouldn’t want you to cry for him. It’s okay to be sad. It’s okay to hurt. But you still have to live. You have to go on, Sara.”

Sara kept her eyes closed. The voice seemed to leave only when she tried to find it. “I can’t go on without him. He’s supposed to be here, with me.” Pain tightened her throat, made it almost impossible to swallow.

“He is, Sara. He’ll always be with you.”

With a hand over her mouth and an arm across her stomach, Sara leaned over, trying to shrink in and away from the hurt that never went away. It had wrapped its arms around her and held her tightly within its grasp. She had to get away, from the pain, from the voice that wasn’t really there.

Sara lurched forward, toward the phone. One voice could ground her. One voice could give her relief. She punched in the numbers, pacing in front of the refrigerator, jittery and sick feeling. One ring. Two. Three. Sara whimpered, beginning to pull the phone from her ear.

“Must be one of those days again, huh?” She closed her eyes, immediate relief dropping her shoulders. Sara leaned her back against the fridge as she listened.

“First time he talked about you I knew you were it for him. There was this look on his face. It’s hard to explain, even now. It was shock and joy and kind of a sick look all rolled into one. The look of love. I teased him about it and he punched me in the gut, so I knew it was true. He fell for you fast and hard.” He went silent.

Lindy Zart's books