Maria Undone

Chapter 10 (Brian)

Sarah? What the hell! What's wrong?"

I jogged to her with my heart in my throat as Sarah rose to greet me. I gave a surprise grunt as she lunged at me, wrapping her arms tight around my waist. 

"Oh, Brian!" She cried. Her body was wracked in shudders.

Fear burned in my stomach as Sarah buried her face in my shirt and wept. "What is it? Is it Diane?" I forced the words past my throat. Please, God, no.

Her head shook against my chest.

"I-is it you? Are you sick?" After both her dad and sister passed away from cancer, Sarah had been vigorous about getting herself checked out. We were all concerned about the possibility that the disease was hereditary.

When her head shook again, I let out a sigh of relief. Thank God. This family didn't need any more bad news.

With my greatest worries abated, I gingerly grasped Sarah's shoulders. "Sarah, honey, hang on." I gently pushed her back. "I've been on the job sites all day. You're probably breathing in a lot of dust and dirt." 

"Sorry." Sarah sniffed, but she still grasped at the lapels of my shirt, refusing to let me go.

"Tell me what happened. Why are you crying?"

I wasn't lying when I said I was filthy, so I didn't know what to do with my hands. Her body was still pressed up against mine, but it seemed impersonal to keep them at my sides when she was in apparent distress. 

"Can I come in?" Her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen from crying. "I've just had a terrible day, and I know only you'd understand."

I swallowed back a wave of guilt. I was exhausted and on a high from my lunch with Maria. Seeing Sarah when I was already feeling the burden of ignoring her and Diane's dinner invites had me feeling like an absolute ass. I should've called Diane today. 

But then you would have missed out on seeing Maria.

Renewed guilt clawed at me.

Sarah peered up as fresh tears gleaned in her eyes. I immediately curved my arm around her shoulders and guided her toward my front door. "Of course you can. You're always welcome."

I opened my front door and ushered her inside. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"Just water," she sniffed.

I left her to compose herself in the lounge while I grabbed a couple of bottles of water out of the fridge. When I returned, Sarah was sitting on my couch, clutching her bag to her chest. She looked so forlorn that I considered calling Diane.

"Sar?"

Her head shot up, and she rasped her thanks as I handed her the water. She twisted the cap off and gulped down half the contents. 

"Listen, I need to clean up." As much as I wanted to chat with her, to make sure she was okay, I felt and probably smelled dirty. "I'll be back in twenty, okay? And then we can talk." 

She gave me a shaky smile and a small nod. 

Upstairs, I quickly turned on the shower and shucked my dirty clothes. I stood under the warm spray and let my head hang low, allowing the pressure to rain gently down my neck. I shouldn't have ignored my family. Sarah was absolutely distraught, but how long had she been this way? With Frank and Hannah gone, they both needed me. And what had I done? Made excuses and dodged their calls.

Hannah's beautiful face swam in my mind, and I couldn't help but feel like I'd let her down.
Unable to stand the guilt, I turned the tap cold and lifted my face to the stinging spray.

When I came downstairs, I found Sarah curled up on the couch. The TV was on, and she had grabbed a blanket from my linen closet. Thankfully, her tears had dried up, but her face was still splotchy, her eyes swollen.

I sat down next to her, my brow furrowed in concern. "What happened, Sar?"

She gave a shuddering breath before grabbing her handbag and opening it. With a sad smile, she produced a stack of letters. I frowned as she placed them on my lap. 

A sense of Deja Vu trickled down my spine as my eyes shifted over the feminine cursive writing. A crippling wave of grief had me sucking my breath in a sharp inhale. I knew instantly whose handwriting it belonged to.

"Hannah," I breathed.

"I found them when I was cleaning out my room. Do you remember when Hannah used to send me letters in college?"

I did. Because I was usually with her when she wrote them.
Even though it was easier to just pick up the phone and call her sister, Hannah preferred writing her pages of letters, updating Sarah about her college life. It was a habit she picked up after summers spent away at camp. She would keep in touch with her new friends across the country via letter writing and fell in love with communicating that way.

I recalled laying on Hannah's tiny bed, tossing a ball in the air while she scribbled out a letter. Or quietly studying with her legs on my lap. I always delivered them for her since the post office was near my apartment. When we moved in together, I used to lie with my head on her lap as she read me out a few lines of her letters. She missed her family. I shouldn't have been surprised that when I approached the subject of leaving New Haven; Hannah changed her tune and begged to stay. If only I didn't push back at her so hard about staying.

"She used to write about you a lot. Before I even met you, I felt like I knew you."

Tears blurred my vision as I tried to concentrate on the words swimming on the pages.

Brian got me diamond earrings for my birthday. He said he saved for four months for them. He's amazing, and I can't wait to bring him home for Christmas.

We had only been dating just under a year. Even then, I knew she was the one for me. You didn't just buy your girlfriend of less than a year diamond earrings if you didn't already know she was your end game. That Christmas was the first time I met her family - at that time, it included her dad, Frank. They instantly welcomed me into their fold. It felt like I was always meant to be part of their family.

The guilt I felt that I had ignored their calls these past few weeks ate at me.

Mom and Dad said they love Brian. Having their approval means so much - not that I ever doubted they wouldn't. I've definitely found my soulmate. I can't wait to do life with him.

Renewed grief billowed down me as I read those last words. "Life" turned out to be ten short years. Even when we received her terminal diagnosis, we didn't have time to come to terms with her sickness - to spend quality time being alone together and saying all the things left unsaid. Within three weeks, Hannah was dead. I never got a chance to tell her how sorry I was for our stupid argument about staying in New Haven. It all seemed so trivial now.

"I just miss her so much," Sarah whispered as she twisted her hands on her lap. "I can't imagine what it's like for you."

Like hell. 

That's what it felt like. The grief got easier as time went on, but there would always be a melancholy deep in my soul. Every time I felt like I could breathe a little easier, start to move on, and be happy again, something else came up to remind me of her.

Like a stack of old letters detailing our love story.

As we read Hannah's letters together, I felt Sarah move closer and lean her head on my shoulder.

"What do you miss most about her?"

Fresh tears built behind my eyelids. I blinked them away. What did I miss most about my wife? I tried to speak, but the words were caught in my throat.

Her heart. Her compassion. Her sense of humor. Her love.

"Everything," I finally croaked.

I didn't even tense when Sarah's small hand landed on my thigh, rubbing it in soothing circles.

"She's one in a million," Sarah whispered. "I don't know how you'll ever meet someone who could compare to her."

Dark hair and soul-searing blue eyes flashed in my mind briefly before I pushed the image away.

"I never will."