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And yes. I would love to find a person of my own, but I refuse to let not having a partner preclude me from enjoying my life. It’d just be nice to share it with someone who appreciates and loves me as is.
It’s just a tiny addition, really, but it’s paned glass on all sides and across the ceiling, with a pair of sliders that lead into the kitchen and a single French door for the exit. I’ve got an overstuffed, mustard-colored chair in the corner that belonged to my dad. A footstool stacked with paperbacks and notebooks next to it that belonged to my mom.
I always felt like all his problems with the sunroom were the same problems he had with me. I was also too impractical, too inane. Just like he thought it should be converted into an insulated, more useful mudroom, he always wanted to convert me into something he deemed better, too.
“Didn’t take you long to find our little hidden treasure, I see,” she purrs and nods my way. He lets out a low laugh that makes my ears burn. “I’d say she found me, actually.”
“When people say that life’s too short, I know that philosophy tends to be synonymous with indulgence or with hurrying to accomplish or chase something. Like ‘life’s too short, so you gotta make a name for yourself or see the world now’ sort of thing. But in my case, life’s already reminded me enough times that it’s fleeting.” I feel him looking at me as I run my hand back and forth along one of the oars on the wall. “And I decided a long time ago that life being too short and too beyond my control meant that I’d let the small stuff feel big. To me, at least. If it’s something that doesn’t
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“Something tells me I couldn’t have you pegged in a decade, let alone a few days, Sage. But even I can tell that you’re vast.”
Even if I’m selfishly glad to be the one rescuing her in a low moment for a change, I hate that she’s having the low moment in the first place. As little as I know her, I still know she shouldn’t have to be uncomfortable anywhere in this whole tasteless town. Not someone like her—this interesting dichotomy of warm and fierce. Who gives her time, home, and energy to wounded creatures … even the unfamiliar ones on two legs, like me.
“Right. She’s better, so she brings out a better version of him.” “No, sweetheart.” I push a lock of her hair back behind one of her ears before I can consider it or consider why I’m comfortable doing it. “I’d wager he just knew you were too far above him, so he tried to bring you to his level. By making the things that light you up seem dim to him.”
“Explain how kissing you is a win for me.” God, I forgot how good flirting with a woman could feel. “I could probably explain better with a demonstration.” Her mouth and eyes go wide in a smile. “Trouble,” she repeats.
“I promise I’ll make it quick,” she says. And because my pride is still a little wounded, I decide to do an experiment. “What if I don’t like it quick, Sage?” I ask, rapt on her reaction. “What if I prefer to savor things. Want it good and slow and drawn out?”
“Sagebyrd,” he says, like bluebird or blackbird or like I’m some exotic, rare species he’s just discovered and named. Just like that, it’s officially the only nickname I’ve ever loved.
Just a you fetish, I think. I thankfully stop the answer before it escapes me. “Just curious about you, is all.” Keep letting me in that mind. You make it look like it’s a fun place to be.
“Sometimes I get so lost in my head that I have to remember to breathe, Sage. I … Until I started spending time with you, it was like I forgot how to just be present.” He lets out the saddest laugh. “But I think you make it hard to be anywhere else.”
“Sweetheart, I’m finding when it comes to you, I don’t know what I’m capable of, but I’m happy to test those limits.”
The sadness that pierces through my chest hits me so strongly and severely I want to claw at it and rip it back out. How could those nothing people continue to treat Freya like they’d deserved the same air as my kind-to-a-fault sister, let alone like they were better than she was?
People can’t follow your rules if you don’t make them clear. This applies in all your relationships: parenting, love, and friendships alike. If you don’t tell people what is and isn’t okay with you, they have no way of knowing.
Another one of Mom’s phrases chases it at its heels: Don’t worry so much about the clouds that you miss the flowers at your feet. Flowers might fade, but I think I’ll enjoy them while they’re here.
Sage is honest and curious and vibrant in everything she does. Anytime I set out to tantalize her, she naturally ends up wrecking me.
“Now, you’re gonna get back on that bike and pedal home, kid. You know why? Because riding a bike is one of the greatest things. You might get hurt again, but you’re gonna have so much fun before that. The important thing is to have courage and try again. And what is courage, Indy?” A sniffle. Indy’s tiny voice saying, “Courage is a muscle.” You strengthen it with use.
Love is this. Love is breathing. A sweet, deep, aching relief. And it’s somehow even more disorienting.
It is the most ridiculous, ludicrous, small-town, corny scene. And it’s one of the great honors of my life to be a part of it.
“It’s been a privilege to fall in love with you, Sage,” I tell her helplessly. Her expression shatters, and I kiss the tears from her cheeks before I have to wrench myself away.
Life’s short. Go to the library. Live a million different stories and see a million different places in one. You might not have control over some things, but you can always foster your imagination.
Time will always give the best advice. Take care of your moments and the years will follow suit.
“Nothing’s for certain, except that I certainly fucking love you.” I push up and kiss him because I think I’ll die if I don’t. He hums and I almost weep anew when I hear it. “I did promise a Taco Tuesday and I should try to see that through, at least.”
