Chapter 35. Fisher
I try to reach for that blurring ability again, and I find that it’s fucking gone. I’m not spared any of the sharpness when I load up our suitcases and pack up my knives; I only grow more desolate by the minute.
And I’m trying so hard to think of this time as a beautiful thing and to be grateful for it for what it was. Indy and I have come so far, both individually and together. I have finally broken through the numbness of my burnout with my career. I’m actually not dreading it.
I tell myself to put on a brave face for everyone. Remind myself that courage is a muscle and that maybe if I use it this will get easier.
I start my goodbyes with the animals. Legs keeps his back turned to me, his tail twitching in disgust. Sable stays happily unaware, wagging around by my side. I’ve managed to win over Bud with treats and nose rubs, so I give him both, and he snorts his thanks, flaps his lips against my palm. I indulge myself with giving the donkeys the same. I shed my first tear over the damned goats.
I expect to have to draw her out, but I find Sage in the meadow, waiting for me halfway. She’s shrouded in one of her bright robes, a strained smile on her face and something clutched in her hands.
She’s always surrounded by so much life. Her garden and her creatures and just… her. Like some sort of mythical thing.
Except she’s also real, which makes it so much worse. My fantasy and the reality I’ll likely always dream of wrapped up in one. I feel like the life she breathed into me is leaving already.
“I wanted to give you something,” she says, and all I can think is, More? “Do me a favor though and don’t…” Her throat hitches on a swallow. “Don’t open it too soon, okay?”
“Okay,” I say, my voice pathetically choked.
She hands me the little brown book I always see her with, and I know I won’t have a problem doing what she’s asked. The idea of cracking into something that’s touched her so much would be like repeatedly ripping open a wound.
I asked Indy about saying her goodbyes, but she refused all my offers to take her to Sam or Blake, and she shuts herself in the truck now.
“Thank you, Fisher,” Sage says. “For the best summer. Thank you for loving me, as is.”
I think of everything I wanted to say and regret not writing it down.
“Thank you, too,” I brokenly tell Sage. And god, fear almost bowls me over right then because will I ever not find her in everything? Will I ever be able to not make everything about summer and Sage again? I’ll see some spotted cows and I’ll imagine her robe the night we met. I’ll taste berries and think of her lips. I’ll hear any pun and break into a sob. “It’s been a privilege to fall in love with you, Sage,” I tell her helplessly. Her expression shatters, and I kiss the tears from her cheeks before I have to wrench myself away.