Savor It

by Tarah DeWitt

I’d simply like a small victory of my own, I think. Even if I can’t beat Ian, I’d just like a moment of consideration. I want to be worth considering.

I’ve never had huge aspirations in life. I’ve had dreams, but they’ve all boiled down to very simple things. So as far as I’m concerned, I’m living them. I want to be happy.

I’m recovering from an existential crisis over a vacuum.

“Wait. How’d you distract her?” “I handed her my goose.” She says this like it’s in any way a normal sentence.

Our eyes catch again and snag for a moment too long. And I should just tear mine away from her, but there’s so much to look at and I … I get a little bit stuck, I think.

“First of all, I never said he was hot. Second of all, don’t you dare.” “Isn’t that, like, your very exact dream man?” My head falls back, and my shoulders droop. “You promised you’d stop using that information against me.”

“B-bye, Indy,” the sentient penis with a car calls after her, waving a sad hand through the air.

“What’s he doing?” she sneers. A snort tears out of me helplessly. “He’s building you a nest.” And god, I wish she’d appreciate a melodramatic rendition of, “YOU IMPRINTED ON MY SON?!” and get the reference, but alas, I think the nuance would be lost on her. And

“I say yes too easily to people for fear of abandonment if I’m not useful,” I add, a bit disconcerted over the epiphany. “I … I think I keep my world small so I don’t feel insignificant in it.”

“You’d just offer her a job? What if she’s a criminal?” “I’d need more information,” I say with a laugh. “And is she?”

We hastily head back, and I automatically reach into his truck and begin grabbing bags to help. “You don’t have to do that,” Fisher says, awkwardly flustered as I use my elbow to open his front door. “You’ve done enough.” I can’t tell if he’s annoyed or only thrown off-kilter by me. Likely both. “You can help me carry the ladder back if that’ll ease your masculine guilt,” I joke back.

A flicker of gold catches my eye through the window above the sink, and I watch the grass sway slightly in the meadow. The stuff is dense and tall. Not tall enough for me to crouch inconspicuously in, but maybe if I were to lie down, it could hide me?

I try in vain to unlatch him, which only makes him cling harder. I tug again, and I’m certain he draws blood. “I didn’t consent to this!” I say into his furry face. He’s got the nerve to look annoyed to be doing this, his ears pressed back and his eyes narrowed to slits. “What are you doing to my cat?”

“Ah, I see,” she says, nodding seriously. “The one-armed felon. He’s notorious around here. He traps all his victims by convincing them to lie down in a field.”

“And before I forget,” she says, “I should probably get your number so I don’t scare you into running away next time I ring your doorbell, huh?”

“Anyway, I, um—I put duct tape on my nipples and ripped a piece of one off, and it was bad enough that I had to get stitches,”

OH MY GOD. I really did that, didn’t I? I just talked about nipples and ejaculating back-to-back.

“Listen, none of us knew what to think. We just knew what it looked like.” “Which is?” “Don’t do that. Don’t make this be the car ride where I talk about nipples, ejaculation, and penis-shaped erections. I’ve already given you so much.”

“Nebraska. Oh boy, I bet you’re well versed in corny jokes, then,” I say. His eyes clench shut like that joke caused him physical pain. “You’ll fit in nicely here.”

“Well, maybe we’re not all the same.” He huffs a humorless ha. “You mean Spunes isn’t like all the other girls?” he says sarcastically, and I have to let out a genuine laugh in reply.

“Wonderful to meet you, Patty.” And I swear she nearly swoons. Fisher leveling the full force of this charming version of himself on someone is a sight. He thinks my sunroom’s nice! I’m tempted to tell her.

and I don’t give a shit if someone passing through this place thinks my quail kimono is the weirdest thing they’ve ever seen, because it makes me smile, and I love that it was made by someone who cares for me.

“See you around, Officer,” Fisher says, not bothering to tear his gaze from mine, either. There’s a delighted, wicked gleam in his eye, and it eases something in me to think that he’s having fun with this, even if it’s just to piss off Ian. When he finally does look away, he hits them with the widest smile I’ve yet seen from him. “Nice to meet you, Chastity. Have a good day,” he states before he takes me by the hand and hauls me away.

again—it’s also that same quality about Sage that makes it impossible to be anything but fully present when she’s around. Like when your sock slips down the inside of your shoe and it feels like your entire nervous system becomes focused there.

She points in the general direction of the rest of the library, and I keep smiling like a moron at her pretty face.

We’re both leaned up against a bookcase, huddled closer somehow. “I think sometimes some people make us different versions of ourselves, whether we mean to let them or not.”

“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.”

My thoughts and emotions resemble shattered glass lately. Pieces of them everywhere, sharp, some fragments so tiny and hidden I’ll never find them until I unavoidably slice myself on them later.

Mine is still thrashing around in my chest and trying to reset its rhythm the morning after kissing Fisher, and I am desperate to find purchase again.

“Hold on, it’s like six A.M. What are you doing up making all of this?” I laugh. “Not sure. Maybe too much excitement yesterday,” he says with a shrug. I can’t stop myself from fishing. “Ah yes, the history of Spunes keeps me up at night, too.”

“And a red mist came over you, I know,” he says, feigning sincerity. “Bloodlust. Savagery. Murder.” My chin wobbles guiltily, and his face quickly folds into a laugh. “I’m kidding, Byrd. Come on.” And then he wraps an arm around my shoulders and leads me away from the garden.

One from my brother Micah with a meme of an open-mouthed lizard that just says, “Hehe. Nice.”

“What do you think gophers hate the most? Smooth jazz?” Maybe something like that will help my heart return to a healthy resting rate, too. “Bear in mind that we also will be subjected to whatever you play.” “So definitely go with the Kenny G, then?”

“I always felt like I was never much of anything growing up. I wasn’t incredibly smart or dumb, athletic or clumsy, loud or shy. I think it manifested physically, too,” I laugh. “Am I blond or brunette? I’m something between. I’m not tall, but I’m not short. I’m not curvy, but I’m not thin. I’m a lot of nots.”

“I never thought I’d ever do anything extraordinary. My brothers and I were always just trying to get by and figure out our dreams individually as we went.

“But … the first time I grew a silly little flower here was the first time I felt like I could contribute something really beautiful to the world, with what I had within my reach. Everything

“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.

“I do think the hard part is done,” she says. “Another dick joke?” I ask, and she tosses her head back in a delighted chuckle, the sound sending goose bumps along my arms. “It truly wasn’t,” she says, “but god, what an endless treasure trove that place is bound to be.”

Every time I’m with Sage, I find that I want to see her more, and every time I feel a little more fucked. It’s like a squeeze of longing for the next time hits me even before that current one has a chance to end despite how much I try to fight it. I ran out after her when I spotted her across the field this morning. I know what her mouth tastes like and the fascinating things she can say.

“Don’t be nervous.” “I’m not nervous,” I say nervously.

“Just make them feel important and included, and they’ll be happy to support you, too, I promise. I’m going to kiss you and show you affection now.” “What?!” I balk.

“I’m going to act like I’ve never been happier because of you. Win you some more points, you know? Like I’m having the time of my life....

“Not up on your supply of orgasms?” I should probably be a little shamefaced about the huskiness in my voice. She flushes red to her ears. “I’ve been single for, like, a year.” “So, no, then?” She makes a scandalized sound, but grins widely. “I’m giving it my best effort on my own, but I could probably stand to put in some more work.”

Is he trying to tease me? Every time he says something like this, it takes a herculean effort not to titter like an idiot. I apparently have the pent-up libido of a catcalling construction worker because my mind yells, “I’ll give ya something to occupy your hands with!”

“I’m not saving lives, Sage. I’m definitely not in any real danger, either. I’m usually making pretentious shit by overly complicated methods.”

Why is it that someone hugging you and holding you together can make you feel like you’re about to shatter?

wish there were a way for me to tell her I’m proud of her for being open to making friends, but I can’t imagine doing this and it not earning me one of her mortified scowls.

We both can’t seem to stop finding one another.