The next few days went by quickly. Sara had several more conversations with Dawn, learning a couple things. Dawn was bisexual, something Sara had never even thought about. Not that she was against it or anything, she had only ever been attracted to guys, spefically Peter. Dawn was very like Sara, but lived a little more hedonistically. Did much for pleasure, trying to get the most excitement and feel out of her life. She had experimented with most hard drugs, but mainly used ecstasy for kicks.
She was new in town, only been in the city for a month. She had moved in with her then–girlfriend, something she thought was pretty serious. She didn't really like it here, but had stayed and bet everything on staying for her girlfreind, a woman named Natalie. Natalie had left the a couple days before Sara's crash, leaving a heartbreaking and demoralizing note. This sent Dawn on a hopeless downward spiral, drinking and dropping pills in the nights that followed. It was the night of Sara's crash when she had dragged the blade down her wrists. She would have been dead if her neighbors had not heard the crash of her limp, drugged body on the floor above. Sara took all this in with quiet nods, not sure of how to respond. Dawn didn't mind.
Doctors came and talked to her about post traumatic stress and her wrist, she accepted all of this fairly calmly. The police came to talk to her about the crash, telling her there was no trace of a body in the wreckage, which had burned to ash. Peter was gone, that was the simple fact of it. She took this better than she had taken Josh. Peter had meant a little less ever since he was born. It still hurt, cut deep, but wasn't as bad as the loss of her child.
She was dismissed from the hospital in a matter of days. Dawn hugged her, a suprising burst of affection after knowing someone for only a few days. "Good Luck," she whispered in her ear as they embraced, "I'm sorry about your kid." Sara was taken off guard. She hadn't known that Dawn knew. As she walked away, she looked back. Dawn was watching her go, with sad eyes and a sad smile. Sara contemplated running back to her and exchanging information but by the time she decided to do it it was far too late.
She took the bus home, not having a car. The insurance would cover a new car, but that had to be worked out. The bus ride home was odd. She felt blemished, marked by the entire experience. She expected stares, whispers. But there was nothing. No one stared, no one said anything. No one even looked twice.
Sara got off the bus and walked to her apartment. She put the key in the lock and turned, pushed. The door opened. She took one step in, closed the door. Took another step, reaching the couch. And crumbled.
Everything caught up to her, like she knew it would. Tears streamed down her cheeks, unchecked and unbridled. Soft, frightened noises of sorrow escaped her throat. She coughed, spluttered. She shook, shivering and seizing. And then she was still.