Page 97 of Sparking Sara

I find it hard not to smile. I love that after a few weeks of outpatient therapy, he still likes to come and keep me company sometimes.

I raise my eyebrows. “Your place? Just what kind of surprise are we talking about?”

He laughs. It’s a boisterous, friendly laugh. But the glance we shared for a millisecond before that is not lost on me. Did he have the same fleeting thought that I did?

“Do you have the time?” he asks.

“I’ve got nothing but.”

“I wasn’t sure if you had plans with Oliver.”

I shake my head and look at the ground. “He’s out of town until Saturday.”

Denver studies me. “Sara, you looked upset just now when you said that.”

“I did?”

“You two are making progress, aren’t you?”

I shrug. What am I supposed to say? That over the past week, I’ve become much more comfortable at home? That Oliver has been so kind and patient, giving me the time and space I need to accept my circumstances? That every night before bed, he kisses me and I’ve gotten more used to those kisses? That I think Idomiss him now that he’s gone?

But I don’t say any of it, because even though I know that’s what everyone wants for me, I can’t help feeling guilty. And I’m just not sure why.

“So, how’s Nora? Are you two going out much?”

He sucks his cheek into his mouth, making a popping noise. “We go out some. Caught a movie the other night and she cooked dinner for me on Sunday.”

I smile. I smile even though I don’t feel like smiling. Because although I have no right to be, I’m jealous over the thought of Nora cooking him dinner. At the thought of him being at her apartment. At the thought of them being intimate.

The timer goes off on the foot bike, ending my exercise.

“You did good this morning, Sara,” Donovan says. “Go enjoy your lunch and then you can go see George.”

George is my speech therapist. He’s trying to get me back to reading and comprehending normally.

When we’re in the courtyard eating lunch, Denver asks if I want to read some more of the book we’ve been reading.

I put down my slice of pizza and wipe my mouth. “No. I’ve got some mail to go through, and with Ollie gone, I thought maybe you could help.”

Denver looks surprised. “Ollie? I’ve never heard you refer to him by his nickname. I know you try to use it when he’s around, but typically when you speak of him, you use his full name.” He regards me thoughtfully. “I’m glad to see you getting back to normal.”

“I’m trying,” I say, pulling out the stack of mail. “Most of these are medical bills. They’ve started piling up.”

“I’ll bet. I hope you have good insurance.”

“Oliver says I do.”

I’m not sure why I consciously chose to call Oliver by his real name just now. But it doesn’t go unnoticed by Denver.

I open some of the bills and pass them to him. “If you can read them for me and make sure there aren’t any surprises. I can pretty much understand them, but I want to make sure I’m not missing anything.”

“Of course,” he says, paging through the papers.

I open something from a brokerage firm while he’s looking those over. My eyes bug out when I see the numbers on the page. “Oh, my God.”

“What is it?” Denver asks.

“Uh … I guess it’s my portfolio statement.” I stare at it in disbelief. “I mean, I knew I had money. My parents left me well off, but this …”

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