TWENTY-NINE MAC #3
I was so worried about Sage, I haven’t had a second to think beyond that. Hadn’t thought of the life that went up in smoke. I hate that he put himself in danger and got hurt. But I’m selfishly glad some of our life remains.
“Sage.” Emotions choke my throat. As glad as I am to have some of our past, I don’t want him thinking this is more important than his life. It would suck if everything was gone but…I can live without photos of my past. I can’t live without him.
“I know. It was dumb. But I’m fine.” He tries and fails to reassure me. My eyes flick down to his arm. The cut is almost the length of his entire forearm. A few beads of blood still ooze from the torn apart flesh.
“How did that happen?”
“On the window in my room. The damn thing wouldn’t open, so I broke it. Caught my arm tossing everything outside.” It makes sense. That window never worked right. Sage used to keep it propped open with a textbook in case I needed to sneak in.
“How did you get out?”
“Window in Mom’s room—our room.” He’s downplaying it, I can tell. His tone is almost bored, nonchalant. Making it all seem so simple when I know it was anything but. Maybe he’s in shock and it hasn’t actually hit yet.
Now that he’s here, sitting beside me, my own shock is fading. Seeing the trailer, rushing around finding him, adrenaline leaves me so swiftly I feel exhausted. Bone tired and ready to collapse.
I drop down onto the hospital bed next to him, pressing my side against his. I grab his hand and link our fingers together tightly. We’re quiet after that. Both just staring off blindly. Listening to the sounds of the hospital.
Our home is gone.
We are now homeless. The crushing realization slams into me. We have nothing.
Not nothing. Sage’s hand is in mine. His heart is beating, his lungs breathing. He’s alive.
Nothing else matters. Sage is alive, hurt but alive. We’ll figure the rest of it out, we always do. I’m just so glad we can figure it out together.
Four hours later, we’re walking out of the hospital. The doctor stitched up his arm pretty quick. But what drew out the ordeal were all the tests on his lungs. He inhaled a good amount of smoke, and they didn’t want him leaving until they knew he was ok.
“Fuck, how am I gonna pay for this shit?” Sage grumbles, looking down at the printed bill they handed as a parting gift. I felt dizzy after seeing the total. That doesn’t even factor in the ambulance ride. We’ll be paying this shit off till we die.
“Do you have to pay for a firetruck? I mean you have to pay for everything else. Will I get a bill for them putting out my house? Holy shit, Mac, what am I going to do?” He’s spiraling, and to be honest, so am I. I keep trying to figure out where we’re gonna go from here.
We don’t have a home to return to; it’s ash and a pile of rubble. We have nowhere to go and thousands upon thousands of dollars of new debt.
“You don’t have to pay for the firetruck. And we’ll figure it out. Together. You aren’t going through this alone, Sage.” He looks up from the bill and offers a fake-ass smile.
“We’re homeless, Mac.” He waves the bill around between us as we walk through the parking lot. “And this…” He trails off. “Fuck! Wait.” We walk up to Henry’s truck, and he stops in his tracks. “Where’s my car?”
I scrub my hand over my jaw. Adrenaline left me a while ago, leaving me fucking tired. Add in the fact it’s two in the morning, and I’m spent. Running on empty.
“It wouldn’t start; it’s at the garage.”
“Fucking perfect!” he shouts. He throws his arms in the air, rounding the truck and angrily climbing in. I hear him repeating the hospital bill total through the closed driver’s door.
I climb in, turning in my seat to face him. “Hey, look at me.” He does halfheartedly, his eyes full of anger that’s not directed at me but has nowhere else to go. I brush his shaggy, blond hair off his forehead, making his eyes soften slightly.
“We will figure it out,” I say slowly with confidence I am totally faking.
In my head, I just keep thinking we are so fucking fucked.
But I try to keep that to myself. He doesn’t need me flipping my shit right now.
He’s got that panic handled just fine. I lean across the middle seat and kiss him.
The only reassurance I can offer him. When I pull back, I think I have an idea.
“Hand me my phone. It’s somewhere down by your feet.” I never bothered grabbing it when I got to the hospital, but I think I know who I should call right now. He finally finds it and passes it over.
Texts, calls, and voicemails all light up my lock screen. Everyone calling to ask what happened, how Sage is. When someone hits hard times in the park, everyone tries to help. Some just want to gossip, but most truly care.
For now, I ignore them all. Hitting the name instead that has helped me more than I can say.
“Mac.” Henry’s gruff voice cuts through the line before the first ring ends. “Is everything ok?”
“Yeah…well no. Henry…I need help.” Sage is just staring down at the bill in his lap, hands curling the edges of the papers.
“What do you need, son?”