TWENTY-EIGHT SAGE
TWENTY-EIGHT
SAGE
“You still weird?” I ask into the quiet.
The room is too dark; I’m not sure what time it is.
After Mac fucked me stupid, he cleaned me up with a wet rag.
It might have been a wet shirt, I don’t know.
I’m too blitzed to care. My ass is sore; it fucking beats along with my heart, constantly reminding me what we did. And I love it.
This is something we should have been doing for years. I had some second thoughts, some apprehension when we first came to bed. But Mac eased them all, making me feel cherished. It was weird, but also not. Being with Mac like this seriously feels as natural as breathing.
After we were cleanish, he pulled me into his arms. Even while I bitched that I wasn’t a girl, I still curled into his side, resting my head over his heart, my thigh thrown over his legs. Even now, with a layer of sweat mixing between us, I don’t want to move.
“How did you know I was weird today?” he asks lazily, combing his fingers through my hair. Another thing I never thought I’d enjoy. Just add it to the list, I guess.
“You sent ten texts, all saying the same thing in different ways.” I shrug because it’s not a big deal. I’ve known him my whole life. I’ve been with him through almost everything.
Sometimes Mac gets weird. Where he feels manic, I guess.
Thoughts too loud is how he used to describe it before he’d persuade me to do something dumb.
I always would, always willing to go along with his idiotic ideas.
They were usually harmless, stupid pranks, but I got decked in the face for them more than once.
He scoffs. “I’m good. Just…I don’t know. Thoughts too loud.” I feel him shrug as my head lays on his chest. But I smile, because I can still read him. Even after everything we did to each other, even with two years of silence. I still know him better than I know myself.
“Are you sore?” he asks, swiftly changing the subject. His fingers massage my scalp, and I close my eyes. Just enjoying the feel of him.
“Yup. Worth it.” I lift my hand off his chest, and he’s quick to high five me with a laugh. Because no matter what this is between us, he’ll always be my best friend.
“I’m gonna fuck you next,” I inform him. His chest rumbles with a laugh.
“You wanna fuck me, baby?” His fingers in my hair turn harsh, tugging on the strands until I hiss and tilt my head back to see his face. My glare is half assed at best. He’s still looking at me like he loves me, making my heart do some stupid shit in my chest.
“I’m going to fuck you.” It sounds more like a threat than a tease. Mac grins, all his teeth showing. His face takes on a sinister look that has my cock trying to muster up some strength, twitching against his naked thigh.
“Maybe.” He kisses my temple, a gentle press of his lips so at odds with the smile he just gave me.
“We should sleep. We’ve got work in the morning.
” He releases my hair, collecting my hand in his over his heart.
He closes his eyes, pretending to sleep.
“Oh, remind me to tell you about Henry and Aken,” he mumbles through a yawn.
“Who the fuck is Aken?” I keep looking up at him.
His face has gone slack, like he might actually be sleeping.
The room goes quiet. I wait. “Who is Aken?” I ask again.
But nothing, only silence. His breath has evened out under my hand.
A slow rise and fall of his chest. Could he seriously be asleep? This asshole!
I drop my head back down, closing my eyes and wishing I could fall asleep like he does. After a while, I start to drift off. Feeling more at peace then I have…possibly ever. Just listening to beat of Mac’s heart. Feeling each of his breaths.
I feel Mac’s lips press against the top of my head. He mumbles something into my hair, but sleep is already pulling me under.
The next day is just like any other. Which is fucking mind blowing. Something so catastrophic should have permanent changes in the world around me. But it doesn’t; I go to work, and Mac is late leaving like always.
It’s like nothing has changed. But it has changed. Everything has. There is no going back for me now. No starting at the beginning, no returning to the before.
Before last night, I told myself we could always go back to the way shit was.
Back to before I kissed him on the dock.
If shit blew up, if we didn’t work out in whatever this is, we could have gone back to normal.
I could still have my best friend. But now, this is it.
He’s mine in ways I never thought he would be.
It should be criminal how happy I am. It’s at least unnatural. Every few minutes I feel the ache of what we did. A constant reminder that he’s mine.
Even the sweat that poured down my body all day, even the constant drilling along the road, or the smell of fresh asphalt couldn’t diminish my mood.
“What’s wrong with your face?” Jeremy shouts over the wind slashing through the car. The AC went out before he even bought the damn thing.
After having to jump his piece-of-shit Nissan, we are finally leaving, driving down the highway towards home. Mac should be back by the time I get there. I smile over at Jeremy who is looking at me like he’s two seconds away from slapping the smile off my face.
“Nothing, man. Shit’s just…shit’s good.” Jeremy meets my smile with an eye roll. He’s nothing like his sister, Luna. Technically, they are half-siblings, but you would never guess they are related.
While Luna is a tiny firecracker who is always grinning, always trying to lighten everyone’s mood, Jeremy is a tall ox. All muscles and scowls. Even when he’s happy, he scowls. He’s twenty-five and already has a deep wrinkle between his brows from his constant grimace.
It’s what makes being his friend easy for me. I’m usually carrying around years of anger like a fucked-up trophy. Jeremy doesn’t mind. He meets my rage with his own. I have never had to pretend the world isn’t shit around him.
“You’re freaking me out. Knock it off.” He stares forward, glaring at the road like it owes him money. I just laugh, propping my boot against the dashboard. I watch the miles between me and Mac pass by in a blur.
When we pass the sign for Jessie James Park, I see the first sign that something is wrong. My heart starts to slam against my sternum. The smell of smoke hits me before I see it. It fills the car, choking my throat with each breath.
I drop my foot from the dash and lean forward. Tall plumes of black smoke swirl up into the sky. My stomach drops as realization knocks out my air. All I can do is stare out the windshield. Connecting the smoke to my trailer. Dread swiftly replaces the happiness I felt.
“What the fuck?” Jermey asks as he creeps forward, carefully passing people all standing around watching as my house burns. I’ve jumped from the car before he came to a stop, boots crunching over the gravel in my frantic race towards my home.
My entire life is on fire. Flames lick out the broken windows in the front. The siding is starting to tinge black and peel off the frame.
Panic like I’ve never felt before takes over. My eyes dart around, looking for my car. Trying to find Mac amongst the other residents of the park.
Relief is swift and short lived. My Mustang isn’t parked outside; that takes a drop of the panic. Mac isn’t home, he’s not burning inside. He’s safe at least.
My life is burning before my eyes.
Everything going up in smoke. Mom’s blankets, photos, memories, they are all turning to ash as I watch. I can’t just watch. I can’t just stand here and let my entire history be destroyed. My thoughts are as black as the smoke, as foggy and chaotic.
I act before I can think it through as I run towards the front door.
Jeremy, June, and others all scream out my name, begging me to stop.
But I can’t stop. I can’t let everything I kept of my mom’s just be gone.
Those pointless things are all I have left of her.
All that I have to hold onto of the woman who raised me.
The door buckles under my body slamming into it. I’m forced to take a step back when the heat flares out the door. I don’t stop; I move into the trailer I’ve lived in since I was ten years old. The trailer I hated, the trailer I dreamed of burning to the ground so many times.
The smoke stings my eyes, making them water.
The heat feels like it’s blistering the skin off my bones.
I cough, pulling my shirt over my mouth and nose.
The shirt doesn’t stop the smoke from choking me; it pushes down my throat with every breath.
It feels like I’m breathing the fire into my lungs.
I ignore the feeling of smoke suffocating my lungs.
My mind flies to everything I want to try and save.
The flames are climbing the walls of the living room, eating away at everything.
The TV is nothing more than melted glass and metal.
Moving as fast as I can, I dart around billowing flames, past the couch that holds a lifetime of memories.
Past the kitchen Mac kissed me in this morning.
Past the bathroom where I patched Mac up so many times.
My bedroom is almost untouched by the fire. The flames just starting to work their way down the short hallway.
I fight the window that never liked to open, finally smashing the thin glass with the lamp my mom gave me when I was scared to sleep in the dark. The glass shatters outward with the blow. Turning, I scan the room. What to grab first, what to take, what to sacrifice.
I start ripping photos from the wall, posters, mementos.
Tearing a few in my haste to save them. I’m quick to toss them all out of the broken window.
My arm snags on a shard of broken glass.
I feel my skin split when I yank back, but I can’t let it slow me down, the pain muted by the adrenaline and panic.
My mind hardly makes a Cliff Note of the damage I just caused.
Even as blood drips down onto the carpet, I just keep throwing my life out the window.
One last glance around, one last look at the twin bed. The bed Mac used to sneak into, the bed he vanished out of. I want to catalog everything. A hysterical need to remember every detail of the room I won’t ever see again. Not like it was.
The fire is moving, spreading, burning more of the hallway now. The heat is unbearable. My eyes burn so bad I have to blink over and over while I run to Mom’s room. I shut the door, closing the fire in the hallway.
I read once that if you shut a door during a fire, it might be enough. But I don’t think this trailer has fire doors. I don’t think it’s anything more than flimsy cardboard waiting for its turn to burn.
I didn’t know fire was so damn loud. It’s deafening, consuming. I didn’t know the life I had was worth saving until it was on fire.
When we cleaned out Mom’s room, we packed up her terrible blankets, small shit she collected; shit I couldn’t part with.
Put it all in a box packed away safely in the closet.
Grabbing the box and anything else I can carry, I go back to the door I closed.
But when I grab the handle, it burns my hand, forcing me to drop it.
Smoke is sneaking in under the door, curling at my feet. I step back, frantically looking around the room Mac and I were supposed to share.
This window opens easily, fresh air filling the room that’s quickly starting to suffocate me. I suck in lungfuls of air and choke on it. Coughing roughly, I toss the box outside. Swinging my leg out, I pause.
This is it. This is the end. The place I hated, the home I never wanted is gone. Every inch of this trailer holds a memory, and the fire is eating through it all. Tears are flowing down my face. My eyes burn and sting with emotions almost as suffocating as the smoke.
The room fills with smoke, and I jump from the window, landing hard on my feet. I collapse down onto my knees, doubling over while my lungs scream for air. My throat hacks and heaves in an attempt to clear my airways.
It’s all burning.
The shit I risked my life to save is all that’s left. It’s gone. Just like that, the universe provided the change I thought would happen after last night.