She hadn’t told him where she was going not because she was afraid he’d come after her, but because if she had she’d be more likely to return before she was ready to, which really didn’t make sense, but was true all the same. He didn’t know she was only about three hours away, so it was as though she didn’t know how close she was to him either.
It was as she looked so long at the light bulb she began to see spots that Sara finally accepted it. Somehow the light made her see all she hadn’t wanted to. It was a literal epiphany. She’d been in limbo, unable to move on, unable to go back, while Cole had laid there, some part of him unable to let go as well. Sara would have kept waiting. He’d known that too. That was why he’d written that paper and that was why he’d given them a year to find a way back to each other.
She had pushed it past a year in hopes of his recovery, but it hadn’t mattered; their time had been up. At least, in this life. But never in her heart. He would always be in her heart, always. Sara just had to learn to think of him without it hurting so much. She had to learn it was okay for her to live even when he didn’t. Sara had to say his name, think his name without falling into an abyss of despair. Sara was trying. It was hard, but she was trying. She had to do all he’d want her to do. She had to breathe. Lincoln makes you breathe. It was true. Lincoln made it possible for her breathe and took her breath away at the same time.
He’d been such a brute lately, but Sara couldn’t fault him that; frustration and helplessness did that to people. She knew. He’d wanted to force her to see things she couldn’t, not then, but now she could. Sara had had to see them on her own, as all things in life. No one opened their eyes and really saw the truth until they were ready to. Sara was ready to now.
She closed her eyes and gray eyes in a sharply chiseled face greeted her in the darkness of her shut eyelids. Guilt tried to accompany the pang of longing that hit her hard and she breathed deeply to center herself. She sat up and rubbed her face; wondering what he would think of this, wondering if Cole would hate her for having feelings for his brother. He would want to punch Lincoln in the face. He would punch Lincoln in the face.
“True. I did punch him in the face once, didn’t I? You deserve to be happy. That’s all I ever wanted for you, Sara.”
Her hands dropped from her face, the smile at hearing his voice sliding off her lips. Why did she keep thinking she heard him? That hadn’t ended when his life had. If anything, it seemed to happen more often. It came from out of nowhere, but seemed to come from within her as well. Was that where he was? Nowhere and everywhere? Was he nothing and everything at the same time? She was glad to hear his voice, whatever that said of her. It was a little blessing, a small piece of him that hadn’t disappeared with his life. Sara got to her feet and walked over the to the easel awaiting her near the glass doors that led to a small deck, absently twisting her hair up into a ponytail as she stared at the empty canvas.
“Paint for me, Sara. Paint me and let me go.”
She inhaled slowly, trying to find a calm that wanted to evade her, and did as commanded by a figment of her imagination, a ghost, or her unstable mind. Sara painted his profile in grays and black. She captured the powerful gaze, the straight nose, the thin lips. Portraits were capable of imprisoning a piece of the soul for all eternity and in her art, she was able to keep a piece of her husband close to her. Even when his voice left her for good, she’d still have this. Sara stared at Cole’s silhouette, her eyes caressing his features. So different from Lincoln’s. Sara turned from the easel, wiping her paint-splattered fingers on her old jean shorts. Maybe a walk would clear her head. Clear it of what, she didn’t really know. All the jumbled mess of emotions she couldn’t make sense of.
What do you know as truth? she asked herself as she searched the counter in the kitchenette for her sunglasses. You love Cole. Cole is gone. You love Lincoln. Lincoln is here. You blame yourself for Cole’s death. You have to stop blaming yourself. You feel guilty of the feelings you have for Lincoln. You have to stop feeling guilty. Sara found them on top of the refrigerator, shoving them onto her face. If only it was as easy as telling herself to stop doing one thing and to start doing another.
“Not easy, Sara, but worth it. It has to be worth it.”
She rolled her eyes at Cole’s voice, leaving the cool interior of her temporary home to face the humidity and sun of Waupun. It was going to be a scorcher of a day, even for June. As far as scenery went, it didn’t differ that much from Boscobel. There were lots of leafy trees, swaying from the warm breeze, and green grass galore. There was even marshland near the town, another similarity to Boscobel. So basically she’d gone from Boscobel to a bigger Boscobel. Flowers scented the air and awed her eyes at the rainbow of colors as she walked along the sidewalk. Sara had always loved flowers; she just wasn’t good with them.
As she was crossing the street, her cell phone rang in her pocket, blaring out ‘That’s Not My Name’ by The Ting Tings. Sara paused under the shade of a tree, quickly pulling it from her shorts, her breath hitching at the name and number. Her heart pounded harder in anticipation and her palms turned sweaty. He hadn’t missed a day yet. She didn’t want to think about what it meant when and if he did.
“Hello?” she said breathlessly. As was routine, he didn’t say anything back.
Noting a public bench farther down the street, Sara walked to it. “I go for walks every day. Something I used to do and got out of the habit of doing. It’s so quiet here. I mean, there is noise, of course, but it’s like everything inside me is quieter. I don’t know how to explain it. I’m calmer, I guess. Not so sad. I can think clearer and I see things in a different way than I used to. It’s good for me. But I miss you like crazy.”
She sat down on the bench, the metal branding the backs of her legs, but not uncomfortably. “It’s strange to think of us. You, me, Cole, and how we’re all connected.” Sara watched a blond-haired woman walk by pushing a stroller and swallowed, turning away. “You remember when I lost the baby? I was inconsolable. Cole and I were barely speaking. We were both hurting so bad and didn’t know how to comfort each other. You told Cole you were going to kick his ass if he showed up to work one more day in a piss-ass mood. It was the first time he smiled in days.”
Sara tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, eyes on the vehicles ambling up and down the road. A set of modest houses ran along the length of the street across from her. “You made us sit at a table and talk. You started by mentioning the weather. Then we had to say what our favorite colors were. Then you said something about how bad I was at sports and Cole agreed. Totally ridiculous stuff, but the point was; we were talking. You brought up funny memories and told some bad jokes. Before long, Cole and I were laughing and looking at each other as we talked. You saved us. You’re always saving people, Lincoln. But what about you?” She took a deep breath.
“You’ve always been there for me and Cole. You were there, even then, shoving us back to life. You’ve always done that, Lincoln, but at what cost to you? It had to have been hard, loving Cole and loving me, and wanting us to be happy, even though it meant you couldn’t be. You sacrificed your happiness, again and again, for mine, for your brother’s. You are truly an exceptional person,” Sara said tightly, her throat thick. “Take care, Lincoln.”
***
Freshly showered, Sara tugged on a pair of lightweight pink shorts and a yellow tank top, the emptiness of the motel room somehow soothing. She’d done some minor shopping at the local grocery store earlier in the day and had the preparations for a salad. Salad made, she sat at the small table by the windowed doors, staring out at rolling skies of gray clouds the color of Lincoln’s eyes. A storm was coming. She wondered if it was storming where Lincoln was.