15. Sage
FIFTEEN
SAGE
When I was ten, a boy stormed into my life. Stood up for me when my mouth got me into a fight I wasn’t ready for. I was angry. I think I’ve always been angry. Deep-seated rage that could never go away.
Back then, my life had just fallen apart.
Dad left, Mom was drinking again, and we moved.
Mom couldn’t afford a drinking habit and our old rent.
I left the only place I’d ever known and moved here.
I remember hating it. Hating the water-stained ceiling my glow-in-the-dark stars couldn’t stick to.
I hated the lawns covered in dirt and cigarette butts. I hated everything.
I hated the first day at the new school. I got into a fight. It was childish and stupid but felt important at the time.
Stephen Harris started calling me white trash.
My clothes were dirty, and my lunch box was a brown paper bag.
Before Stephen pointed out this now-known fact, I didn’t realize I was trash.
Mom said the move was temporary. Mom said she would get better and work harder so we could move soon.
Even then, I knew it was a lie, but it was one I wanted to believe so desperately I almost tricked myself.
I was never trash before Dad left. Sure, we had money problems. Sure, Mom would drink sometimes, more than the other moms. But we had what we needed. At least I thought we did. Dad did not agree.
Then Stephen fucking Harris burst in, spitting truth, and I hated him for it. We got into a fight, punching and kicking as hard as our ten-year-old selves could.
Suddenly, there was Mac. His clothes were stained and his shoes looked too big and old. But he stood over me, screaming at Stephen. He took my fight and made it his.
That was the first time I knew Mac was special. That was the first time my anger wasn’t burning a hole in my gut. My body spread out on the asphalt right over four square, and I smiled. I smiled at this kid who stood up for me at a time no one did.
I wish I could remember what he said to me when he helped me off the ground. But I remember him smiling. His lip was split, and his teeth were red from the blood, but there he was, smiling at me.
Ever since that day, I stayed with Mac. When I was with him, the trailer park wasn’t a death sentence. When I stayed with him, everything was brighter. Most of all…I wasn’t so fucking angry.
Then he left me, just like Dad did. He walked out the front door and vanished. My anger came back, hot and fierce. Reigniting the fire that he put out in my gut.
I tried everything to put it out on my own. Tried drinking—until Luna stopped me—tried fighting. Nothing ever put it out. Anger burned through my veins, turning everything else to ash. Tainting memories along the way.
That fire was doused with ice water when he came back. I couldn’t hold on to the feeling that got me through so much shit, not with him around. Sure, I still feel that rage bubbling up sometimes. But it never sparked. It’s skin deep.
So that anger kept the secret for two years. I always figured he’d find out somehow. Cave and talk to Karen, June, see it on the news, so many ways for him to find out the truth. But when he started having panic attacks about Dave coming back to get him, I knew he didn’t know.
I should have said something then. Should have confessed. But I couldn’t. Not when I finally had him back in my life. My anger was replaced by fear of losing him again. I’m a goddamn coward. A selfish coward. But now he knows.
Now he knows, and he said he wouldn’t leave me again.
Yesterday, after we apologized to each other, we didn’t talk much.
Just cleaned up and climbed into bed. That’s right, bitches, he slept in my bed.
Just like we used to—me snug against the wall, him dangling over the side.
We were both raw and emotional; we didn’t care that it was only 4:00 p.m. The entire day had been an emotional rollercoaster, and we were both ready to call it.
My bed was too small back then, and it’s sure as shit too small now. My morning wood is pressed against the wall. I slowly and carefully pull back. For the first time in two years, I don’t feel this unnamed weight pressing down on me.
That feeling of relief is short lived when I move more than I should be able to with a Mac truck in my bed.
Shit. Shit. Shit. My bed is empty. I pat the empty space as I jump up onto my knees. He’s not going to magically materialize, but I can’t stop checking. My mind drags me back to that morning. The morning he left.
This can’t happen. Not again. Please, fucking God, not again. I know I fucked up. I know I should have told him the truth. But he promised. He promised he wasn’t going to leave.
He promised that night, too. You think just because you jacked off together, he’d stay? He’s free now. Dave no longer haunts him. Why the fuck would he stay here, for you? HA!
I am going to punch my inner voice. Even if what it says is true. I climb from the bed and take the same path I did then. Running to check the bathroom, the living room, the kitchen. Each empty room has my stomach filling with dread. My heart feels like it’s being ripped open, torn apart.
I’m alone.
I’m so fucking stupid. Just as gullible as I was at thirteen. Of course he left. We just got caught up in the moment. Overwhelmed and letting our emotions direct our actions.
What did I expect? A future where we sleep in a twin bed in a trailer?
Working shit jobs to earn just enough to stop starvation?
That’s not the life Mac ever wanted. He wanted out of the park; he wanted to live on a houseboat and become a cage fighter.
Not the biggest of dreams, but bigger than this. More than I can offer him.
Mac has always been so much more than the life he was born into. He’s smart and strong. He wasn’t supposed to live this life. I’ve accepted that I belong here, but never Mac.
Now he’s free. And I’m alone.
The couch groans into the empty shit hole when I fall into it. Elbows on my knees, I cradle my head in my hands. Memories play out, mixing with the present. The same circle I’ll be trapped in forever.
My breathing is shallow and quick. I’m spiraling, I’m spinning the fuck out. Mac is gone. Are the walls closing in? There’s a ringing in my ears that won’t fucking stop. Everything is too loud but so goddamn quiet at the same time. Because I am alone.
I want to be the man who’s happy his person is free. Happy he can now live a life without fear. Happy he’s free of his past. But I’m not. I’m fucking devastated and heartbroken.
I’m his past! I’m his person! I can’t do this without him. Not again. Not a-fucking-gain.
The park wakes up outside. People talking, parents gripping at their kids, cars starting and tires crunching over gravel. Life goes on as normal, as if I’m not breaking inside.
“Hey, Sage, you got any—” My head pops up so fast I get whiplash.
Mac stands in the doorway, his large presence dominating the space. He’s wearing sweatpants he chopped into shorts and a tank top he hacked the sleeves off of. His hands are black and stained, even as he wipes them on a towel.
“Fuck. Baby! Are you okay?” He rushes towards me, dropping to his knees at my feet, his blackened hands on my knees leaving handprints behind. I can’t even enjoy the fact that he called me baby. He’s here.
“You didn’t leave…” My voice is so low and weak. Reeking of the desperation I feel. All the concern his face held slowly vanishes. His frown twists into a small smile.
“I told you. I’m not leaving, not unless you come with me.” He did say that, but he did that night, too. I couldn’t believe it. Not when the trailer was empty and so quiet.
His eyes are so bright. So goddamn bright it hurts to look at me. His hair is dirty and covered in sweat, a black smudge on his neck. But he is fucking beautiful. Mac. Mac. Mac. All I see is him.
“I’m not going anywhere. It’s you and me.” His thumb wipes whatever is on his hands into the skin on my knees. He leans forward, kissing me. So gentle compared to the last times. It’s not frantic or rushed. It’s slow and sweet. I smile against his mouth.
“You called me baby,” I mumble, not moving away from him. Just speaking directly against his lips. I feel his smile.
“Yeah, it felt right. But now I feel weird about it.” He laughs and kisses me again. The kiss is kind of a mess. Both of us smiling and trying to avoid teeth. It’s insane how quickly he manipulated my emotions.
“I don’t know, you’ll have to try it out again when I’m not freaking out.” I shrug, feeling self-conscious. “What were you doing?” I grab one of his dirty hands and look at the mess he left.
“I was fixing your Mustang. When was the last time you did anything to it?” He sits back on his heels but keeps his hands on me. Almost like he needs to touch me as bad as I need him, too. Or maybe he’s doing it for me.
“I don’t know. Jeremy poured water into something when she overheated a couple months ago.” He looks at me like I’m disgusting, a disgrace.
“You never did deserve that car.” He shakes his head. “I got it to start, so I’ll drive it to the garage and see what I can do.”
He’s leaving. Oh my fucking God, you codependent little bitch, get it together.
“I get off at five. I’ll even grab food on the way home. Then we can talk.” He kisses me because that’s something we do now, almost making me forget the threat of an emotional conversation.
“Sage?” Luna calls into the trailer, the door flapping closed behind her. I look up at her from my spot on the couch. She at least has the decency to look sheepish.
She must have just gotten off work. She still has on the apron from the diner. She works part time at Earl’s and part time at the laundromat. Both below minimum wage, both leave her with distinct smells after every shift.
“Soooo…I see you didn’t murder each other? Unless Mac is rotting in the back?” She makes a show of looking around, flaring her nose, trying to sniff out a possible corpse.