31. Sage
THIRTY-ONE
SAGE
NOW
I am fucked.
Beyond fucked.
The random crap I tossed out the window smells like smoke and is covered in my blood.
But I have it. I sit in Henry’s truck, clutching onto the big-ass bag June put everything into.
Terrified if I loosen my grip, it will catch fire and burn with everything else.
A giant tote bag with bright pink flamingos holds everything I have left.
What am I going to do?
Mac is being…well, Mac. I know he’s tired and just as messed up as I am, but he’s calm. He’s collected. He called Henry and found us a place to crash tonight. He even drove me back to the park to get this random shit.
We stopped by the twenty-four-hour pharmacy, hoping to fill the Percocet prescription the doctor wrote me. When they wanted hundreds of dollars for a handful of pills, I lost it. That pharmacist did not deserve the rant he got.
But Mac called Clint. He lives in lot 42 and sells just about everything.
Why is it cheaper to get pills from the sketchy dealer than where a doctor prescribed?
It’s fucking insane. But I don’t have the mental capacity to handle the pharmaceutical corporation right now.
So I’m buying drugs from the same dude that sells to Karen.
Fucking perfect. A sad cherry on top of a shit-filled cake.
June also told me that some fire marshal is going to be calling me. But I have no idea where my phone is. I lost it somewhere between leaving work and the chaos that followed.
The smell of the smoke coming off this massive tote bag is overwhelming, but I can’t let it go. All that’s left of my mom is right here. Some pointless shit is all that remains of her.
Everything hurts. I feel like I’ve been awake for days. The pills I got from Clint only took the edge off the throbbing in my arm. As soon as the numbing shit wore off, it felt like my arm was being torn apart. But it’s nothing compared to how my heart hurts.
When Mac left and Mom died, I thought I knew what heartbreak felt like. I thought I understood grief and loss. But hugging this stupid bag, I only knew a portion of it. I was so angry and drunk back then that I don’t think I ever delt with…any of it. This feels like losing her all over again.
Yeah, it was a stupid fucking trailer, a trailer I spent so many years hating, but it was her.
When she was alive and sober, she tried to make it a home.
I destroyed a lot of the little things she did to make it that way.
But even afterwards, I saw her there. And now, it’s all gone.
I couldn’t bring myself to look when Mac drove us back to the park.
I couldn’t look at the mess left behind.
I don’t know. I don’t know what will happen next.
I don’t know what I would do if Mac wasn’t here. Even his presence is reassuring. His firm touches, his promises of figuring it out together. I think I would have taken all these pills if it weren’t for him. Just let myself disappear into the pain.
Glancing over at him as he drives towards the garage, it hits me. Like a fucking tsunami slamming into me. I am in love with him. I’ve always loved him. But this feeling is so much bigger, so much more. He’s my fucking soulmate. Just like my mom said he was.
Staring at him as he drives chips away at the pain. My arms loosen around the bag. Not letting go, but not crushing it against my chest, either.
Everything sucks. The trailer, the medical bills, my Mustang, but…he’s here. He’s here, and he’ll help me through this. Some of the pressure in my head fades, too. The trailer is gone…but I have this bag. And I have Mac. Everything else is just shit.
Mac glances back at me and offers a sad smile.
Fuck, he’s trying so goddamn hard to make this all seem like less of a clusterfuck.
When he walked into the hospital room…my heart fucking leapt.
It really was a crap shot if he’d kiss me or punch me.
It was stupid to run back into the burning house; he would probably be justified in punching me.
But he looked so goddamn relieved I was ok. The thought of being mad at me for my carelessness didn’t even seem like it crossed his mind.
Fuck, I love him.
“Remember when I said Aken moved into the old apartment?” he asks, looking back out the windshield.
“Yeah. Wait, so where are we staying?” I think he told me after he got off the phone with Henry back at the hospital. But I was so far lost in the tailspin of that bill I can’t remember.
“In the apartment. Yeah, so Aken is gonna move into Henry’s guest room now. I can’t tell if he’s happy about that or terrified.” He laughs, but I don’t get what’s funny.
He continues to try and distract me from my thoughts. Telling me his theory that they are into each other. Brushing off my argument that not everyone is secretly gay.
By the time he’s parking the truck in front of the garage, I’m laughing with my best friend.
Laughing like my life didn’t just fall apart.
Like my house isn’t smoking embers right now.
He smiles every time I do. Looking so very pleased with himself that he was able to take some of the weight off my shoulders, even for a second.
Turning off the truck, he scrubs at his jaw. Exhaustion clear as fucking day on his face. Since he kind of moved in with me, he’s just as homeless as I am. Since he spent most of his childhood in my trailer, he lost just as much as me. Yet here he is, being my rock.
“Mac,” I say right as he goes to open the truck door. He pauses, glancing back at me. “Uh…” Fuck, I don’t do emotions, man. I don’t know what to say to him, don’t know how I feel, yet alone how to help him. But I have to try; he is for me.
“I know, baby. I know. Let’s go get some rest, yeah? We’ll figure shit out tomorrow, or today, I guess.” He smiles, small and sad, but it’s there. He hands me an out. A way to not say what needs to be said. And I take it. I nod and climb out of the truck, still hugging the damn tote bag.
Using Henry’s keys, he lets us into the garage. All the lights are out except one in the back office, providing just enough light to look around the garage. The whole place looks so different to the only other time I came here.
Henry and another guy I’m guessing is Aken must hear the door and exit the office.
I feel like shit that they stayed up and waited for us to get here.
They both look bone tired, but they also look…
guilty? At least the tanner, younger guy I think is Aken looks guilty.
He’s pulling down a hoodie that’s seen better days while casting weird, shocked glances between Henry and us.
“You didn’t have to stay and wait,” Mac says, walking closer to the pair. I lumber behind him, feeling completely wrecked.
Henry just waves off the remark. “Of course, I fucking waited. How you doin’, Sage?” The sympathy on his face and in his voice makes me nauseous. I hate when people pity me.
“Getting through it,” is the best answer I can give.
He nods like he understands, crossing his arms over his massive chest. Henry is a big man, tall and burly.
Definitely older than us, probably forty or so.
Aken is smaller, short and lean, but most of him is hidden under the hoodie.
He’s also closer to our age, maybe younger.
He stands behind Henry awkwardly, hands stuffed in the front pocket of his hoodie.
If Mac is right about them being into each other, and after seeing their guilty, weird looks, I think I agree. They have an age gap, that’s for sure, plus the whole Henry was married to his step-aunt-cousin-sister thing. I have no idea; Mac’s explanation was confusing.
“Well, the apartment is all ready for you guys. Don’t worry about work tomorrow, Mac. You two just get some rest and let me know if you need anything.” Henry grabs Mac’s shoulder and gives it a squeeze. The affection he has for Mac is obvious. He looks at Mac how dads in TV shows do.
“Thanks again, Henry. You’re saving our asses tonight.”
“Think nothing of it, son. Come on, Aken, let’s get out of here. See you boys tomorrow.” The silent Aken offers a quick wave before trailing after Henry, leaving us alone. Mac turns towards me with a wide grin.
“See?” he asks, gesturing wildly towards the pair that left. I can’t stop myself from smiling back. He’s such a dumbass.
“Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Lead the way to the shoebox.”
The apartment is just as small as I remember, but I’m too exhausted to give a shit. I just throw myself back onto the bed, careful of the flamingo bag. But not careful enough of my arm. I land wrong, it hits the mattress, and I gasp. Shit, that fucking hurts.
“Hang on,” Mac says, walking into the tiny bathroom. He returns with a glass of water. Pulling out the baggie of pills from his pocket, he offers one. Dropping the pill into my palm, I’m quick to swallow it down dry. Drinking the water, I pass back the cup.
“Thanks.” I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and lay back down. I move the bag to my side but keep my hand on top of it.
Mac places the empty cup by the hot plate and starts getting undressed.
I’m too tired to bother. I don’t even give a shit that I reek of fire and sweat.
Mac must not mind, either, since he climbs in next to me.
I feel his body dip the mattress, then mold against my side. I didn’t even realize I closed my eyes.
I’m not sure if I can sleep…
Smoke fills my throat, burning my eyes. Fire licks across my skin, burning the fuzzy hairs along my arms. I choke.
Coughing and coughing, but nothing clears away the smoke that fills my lungs.
I move backwards, trying to escape the flames that are eating away at everything.
My home is swallowed into flickering embers.
The flames reach out to me, beckoning me to come closer
I take another step back. Then another. Anything to distance myself from the heat. My back hits something hard behind me, and I frantically look back.
Mac stands tall and unmoving as fire slowly climbs up his jeans. I shake him by his shoulders, but his unwavering stare is locked onto something behind me. His face is a cold mask of indifference as the flames climb higher.
I scream out his name, but no sound leaves my dry lips. Only black smoke curls out of my mouth. I scream and shake, and lash out at Mac, trying to get him to notice me.
The fire snakes higher, wrapping around his torso and chest. It swirls onto my hands, on his shoulders, coiling around him and now me. I don’t feel the pain of the flames. The heat of the fire slithers up my arms.
Only panic and dread consume me. I have to get Mac away before it swallows him completely.
But I’m too late. My shouts are too quiet, blocked by the smoke I exhale.
I stare up at Mac as panic turns into something tangible, stumbling backwards when his eyes meet mine.
The eyes I’ve looked into for most of my life no longer look familiar.
They’re cold and dead. Harsh and cruel. A foreboding leer curls his lips into an unsettling smile.
One I’ve never seen on his face before. His lips part about to speak.
Reality slams into me. I jerk awake with a terrified wheeze. Sitting up, I grab at my throat, expecting smoke to replace the air I suck into my lungs.
I exhale.
A dream.
My relief is short lived. A thud jerks my attention away from myself. Pulling my focus outward to the bag that hits the floor.
“Fuck!” I throw myself down onto the floor. There is hardly enough space between the wall and bed. My need to know everything I saved is still intact is stronger though. I hardly register the pain that flares up my knees when I land. Don’t feel the pain that radiates from my arm.
My hands hysterically run over every item, cataloging each thing I saved. Every item of my mom’s that wasn’t taken away from me. I touch every one with delicate care. The lingering panic of fire making me fear the irrational. That my touch will spark the flames anew.
“Baby!” Mac calls out into the room, an edge of panic lacing the single word. I let out the breath I was holding when everything is accounted for.
“Yeah. I’m fine,” I lie. I’m nowhere close to fine. I’m unraveling at the seams. I hear Mac moving on the bed, the frame creaking with his rushed movements.
I don’t look up at him. I can’t face the look I know he’s drilling into me right now. Can’t see the heartbreak he’ll wear on his face.
I can’t.