***
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?