by Anna Kyss
His words hit me hard. For the last six months, I’ve been trying to escape each day through meaningless television shows and novels. Alone and isolated, by choice, I’ve been on the exact opposite path as Sage. Rather than making the most of each day, I’ve been trapped in stasis.
A need to rush back to the yurt, to escape from this too-real conversation, floods me. Instead of giving in, though, I fight the urge to self-isolate. The first step is easy; don’t get up. Non-action always comes easier than action. The second step will be much harder. Continuing conversation is something with which I am out of practice.
“What do you like about the stars?” I finally ask.
“The backward-ness of the sky reminds me I’m somewhere completely different. It reminds me I’m living life, and when you’re living, even something as mundane as looking at the stars becomes novel and intriguing.” He squeezes my hand.
Talk about intriguing. I’ve never met anyone who thinks as deeply as Sage does. In the few conversations we’ve had, he’s challenged me to see the world a whole new way. As much as I want to escape to my safe haven of notebook and purple envelopes, I can’t help but think Sage might be right. Maybe I need to start living a little.
I roll toward him. “Thank you.”
When he leans in my direction, we’re so close, our noses nearly touch. His lips are inches from mine. I can’t stop studying them.
“Abby.”
I roll completely off the blanket then jump up as I rub soil from my clothing. “It’s late. We better get back to the yurt.”
He stares quizzically at me for moment then cleans up the blankets and cushions. We hike back to our yurt in complete silence. I can’t decide if I am more bothered by my feelings of betrayal or my cowardice about living.
A WEEK later, I hike down to the isolated boat dock during the grays of dawn. As the sky lightens, the misty outline of buildings appears across the bay. A quick boat ride will bring me back to the small town, and for a moment, I consider escaping.
I can’t help but recall Sage’s first conversation with me. What are you running from?
I had the most disturbing dreams last night. I’ve never been one to remember all my dreams in detail, but this one made an impression on me. It involved Sage. His callused hands, his strong arms, his sun-chapped lips. I had that kind of dream.
I couldn’t stay in that small round room any longer. Even in his sleep, Sage tempts me. To be honest, I don’t fully trust myself around him.
Waiting for the breakfast bell by the water seemed a much safer option. I settle onto the dock as the sunrise paints the water. When the purples and pinks of morning tinge the sky, I cannot delay any longer. I need to write to Robbie.
Thirty minutes later, my notebook sits on my lap, but I’ve only been able to write two words:
Dear Robbie,
I don’t even know what else to say. I want to be honest with him. I want to be loyal to him. How can I share my growing attraction to Sage? My heart will always belong to Robbie, but after all these months of isolation, my body desires more.
While the farm has more space than I’m used to, I can’t escape my strong connection to Sage. I’m drawn to him no matter where I go.
I almost laugh when I think back to how crowded the dorms were. Hundreds of bodies all crammed into one building. Yet I could ignore everyone and focus on my blissful isolation. How are these acres so confining?
When the breakfast bell finally sounds, I hurry to the covered eating area. If I’m quick, maybe I can finish my breakfast before Sage even makes his way down here.
“You’re up early today.” With Zachary on her back, Susan stands at the table, arranging today’s choices: yogurt, granola, and bowls of fresh fruits. “I hope you like muesli.”
“Muesli?” I had heard the name before but never knew what it was.
“Just a fancy name for fruit and granola over yogurt.” Susan fixes herself a bowl, adding three scoops of strawberries to the top. “I’ve only left the country once. We went on a skiing trip to the Swiss Alps when I was nine. I was too nervous to actually ski, but I’ve always remembered the delicious breakfasts our hotel served.”
“Do you wish you could have traveled more?” After preparing my own bowl, I try a bite. The sweet berries contrast with the granola’s crunch and the yogurt’s tart bite.
“I’m satisfied with the life I’ve created here. I’ve always been a bit of a homebody, so staying on the farm and taking care of Zachary satisfies me.” She smiles as she rubs his little foot, the only part of him she can reach. “Besides, I get to listen to stories from all the travelers that spend a few weeks on my farm. Since I’ve signed up to be a WWOOFing host, I get to experience exotic places by proxy.”
While Susan appears satisfied with listening to the tales of her volunteers, others’ stories must be a sad substitute for actually being able to travel. To immerse oneself in the smells, tastes, sounds, and experiences of a new culture. I’ve been living life in a similar way, though. Hiding away in my own secluded corner of the world—my old dorm—without joining in the activities all around me.
For a long time, I thought I was protecting myself. Perhaps I was merely extending my pain. Sage’s words from last night have echoed on my brain: I’m not going to waste another minute of my life.
Maybe I’m done wasting minutes. Maybe I’m ready to start living. It’s so tempting, but the thought of Robbie makes me question everything again and again.
“Good morning, Sunshine.” Sage walks to the table. He must have just left the shower. A towel’s draped around his neck, and he carries his shirt. That’s right, he’s wearing absolutely no shirt at all. I stare at him for a moment, unable to take my eyes off the water droplets falling from his wet curls onto his bronze-hued shoulders. The droplets weave their way down his body, some winding around his muscular arms and others tracing a path on his smooth, golden chest.
“Where’d you disappear to this morning?” He fills his bowl completely to the top with all the fixings. “I heard you tossing and turning, then you were just gone.”
He heard me last night? I become engrossed in scraping my bowl into the compost bucket. I hope I didn’t verbalize any part of my dream. I can’t even imagine how awkward that would be.
“I was in the mood for a walk.” No need to tell him where I was walking. Best leave that information to myself, in case I need to hide another morning.
“Morning, Sage.” Susan collects all the breakfast materials onto a tray after ensuring we’ve had all we want. “Unfortunately, I need you to rototill the left side of the field today. I want to try my luck at growing a new grain next year.”
“No problem. I’ve seen the machine in the shed.” He grins. “I’ll be finished by lunchtime.”
“You’re such a help.” Susan mouths her thanks again to Sage. “Abby, could you fill two baskets with cucumbers? I’m ready to start pickling today.”
“No problem.” I help her gather the last of the breakfast dishes. “I’ll have those to you by lunch.”
Susan leaves, and Sage and I sit across the table from one another. Since the dishes are all gone, I can’t even ignore him under the pretense of eating and drinking.
“Disappointing how we’re going to work alone today,” he says. “I’ve grown used to having you by my side this week.”
“Having some space can be nice, too.” But I’m just as sad. I thought I’d look forward to long, solitary hours in the garden, but I’ve grown to love his playful bantering. Sage can make even the most tedious gardening tasks entertaining.
“I have an idea.” Sage beams at me. “Why don’t you join me after lunch?”
Every day after lunch, Sage disappears from the gardens. I assume this is when he’s doing his “practice”, as he calls it. He has guarded his privacy fiercely, never allowing anyone to come along or interrupt him.
Why invite me to join him now?
I’m so nervous, I immediately want to decline his offer. But when I open my mo
uth, the only word that comes out is, “Yes.”
“Perfect. Let’s meet here for lunch and then you can hike with me.” Sage gives a friendly wave, finally pulls on his shirt, and sets off toward Susan’s tool shed.
I’m left alone at the table with my ever-building guilt. It would have been so much safer to keep our distance for the entire day. I could blame my rash words on a whole bunch of factors, but it comes down to a single reason.
I want to spend more time with him. Something about Sage calls to me. I have a feeling I’m going to be in trouble after lunch. But I’m far too excited about my Sage-time rendezvous to consider the consequences.
SAGE MEETS me for lunch. He unpacks our sandwiches, turkey for me and vegetarian for him, along with small bags of fresh fruits and veggies. “I can’t believe you actually said yes.” Sage grins at me before taking a bite of his sandwich.
“Why is that surprising?” I can’t meet his eyes. “Do I seem that unfriendly?”
“Not unfriendly. More like… cautious.” Sage studies me while I meticulously examine my sandwich. “Like somebody’s hurt you before.”
Just like that, he cuts to the crux of the matter. I am cautious. I have been hurt before. How can he read me so well?
“H-have you ever been hurt?” I finally ask. Anything to get his attention off me.
“Do you mean, hurt by a girl?” The corners of his mouth rise up.
I force myself to ask him the question that’s been on my mind all day. “Do you have a girlfriend?”
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
He had to ask the question I’ve been dreading. I’ve practiced my answer, and I only hope the multiple times I recited it to myself help make my answer sound real. “I… I used to.”
“So we’re both free—” My expression must have been pretty interesting to stop him mid-sentence. “Free to hike now. Are you ready?”
I try to decide between escaping to the isolation of our yurt and accompanying Sage. Going to the yurt would be the safest choice, but Sage tempts me with his eager smile.
“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he whispers as we hike.
So have I, which is exactly why I’m in trouble.
Sage leads me higher and higher up a rocky trail, until white sailboats dotting the far-away bay appear. He stops next to a large, flat rock overlooking the water and climbs on top of it. After settling in a cross-legged position, he gestures for me to sit across from him.
“Best view within walking distance of the farm.” He waits for my reaction.
“Do you come here often?” I’m curious about where he always disappears.
“Every day. This is my favorite place to meditate.”
I can see why. The tree cover breaks just enough to allow rays of sun to stream down on the rock. The water sparkles. This could be the most peaceful spot on the farm.
“So, what do you think?” he asks.
“Flat rock is a pretty amazing place.”
“Flat rock? That does not capture the specialness.” He shakes his head, over-exaggerating his disappointment. “We definitely need to come up with a better name.”
“Seeing as how I don’t even know how to meditate…”
Sage claps his hands together. “That’s it! You need a lesson in the ‘now.’”
I can’t hold in my sigh. “I don’t even believe in that ‘now’ stuff.”
“There’s nothing to believe in. It’s just something you need to experience.” A grin spreads across his face. “Please? Try it once?”
I wonder what the harm would be. Meditating can’t hurt. It could even help. “Okay.”
“Okay? As in yes?” He leans closer.
“Yes, I’ll try your ‘now’ stuff.” I hurry to set up rules and boundaries for our experiment. “I’ll try it once. Don’t think I’m going to start eating that vegan junk or praying to the Buddha.”
Sage laughs. “You don’t pray to Buddha. It’s more—”
If he starts talking philosophy, it will be dark before we hike down the butte. “I just need the rules for how to be present.”
“Rule Number One: let your body experience what’s happening in the moment, and embrace those feelings. It won’t work if you’re thinking about the future or the past. You have to remain in the moment.” His face grows more serious. “Rule Number Two: radical honesty.”
“Radical honesty?” The phrase scares me before I even know what it means.
“Full and total honesty.” He watches me, as if he suspects this might be the hardest part of our experiment.
I make a face. “I’m not sure I can be fully honest.” Even talking about radical honesty makes my heart race. I’m not ready to share all of my secrets.
“What if you only had to be honest with yourself?”
Relief flows through me. “I think I can manage that.” As long as I don’t have to share anything about Robbie, or how I came to this Australian farm, I can manage. I should be able to be open with myself. It can’t be that hard.
Sage scoots closer until we sit knee to knee. He reaches for my hand. “Like this.” As he places it palm-up against my knee, he brushes his thumb gently along my palm. I quickly flip the other hand over, eager to avoid his soft touch. He rests his hands on his knees then whispers, “Just be.”
I sit and wait. Unsure of what is supposed to happen, I focus on my body. The sun shines down on my face and the back of my arms, creating pleasant warmth. A gentle breeze blows strands of hair across my forehead. My fingertips graze against Sage’s, creating fiery tingles.
While I look everywhere but up, Sage watches me the entire time. I slowly meet his gaze. The corners of his mouth turn up slightly. His eyes crinkle, and a full smile emerges. He could be playing connect-the-dots with the freckles on my nose and cheeks. I squirm just the tiniest bit.
“What are you feeling?” he asks.
What an unusual question. Most people ask how others are feeling, seeking definitive answers. Sage has posed a more open-ended question, though. “The sun feels amazing.”
“Your freckles are cute. I like all thirty-seven of them.”
I gasp. He was counting! “I could look at the boats for hours. It’s so peaceful watching them sail.”
“I love the breeze. I especially love the way the wind is blowing your hair around,” he whispers.
This radical honesty is way more personal than I was expecting. I pause, thinking how to respond.
Sage shakes his head, his wild locks bouncing with his movement. “Don’t think. Just be.”
“I like the way our fingers feel together. I don’t want to separate them.”
Before I can even wonder how that escaped my mouth, Sage moves his hands closer, interlocking our fingers. “I don’t want you to move them, either.”
I cannot stop staring into Sage’s chestnut-hued eyes. I’m not going to share that thought, though. Not trusting myself, I remain silent.
He leans close. “I want to kiss you.”
“I want to kiss you, too,” I whisper before clenching my lips together.
Sage brushes his lips against mine. His sun-scorched roughness caresses my lip-glossed softness. After one light kiss, he eases back.
“More,” I whisper. This time, my lips are the ones to seek his.
Beneath the warmth of the sun, alongside the gentle breeze and overlooking the scenic bay, our mouths meet. He tastes of mint-tinged sweetness. His tongue dances with mine, and our lips crush together. All the while, my fingers tingle as they remain interlocked with his upon our knees.
With a small groan, Sage breaks away. “Welcome to the ‘now’, Abby.”
I’ve never kissed anyone other than Robbie. All this time, I’ve stayed loyal to him, no matter how big our troubles became. My throat tightens, and my eyes well. Forgive me, Robbie.
“Abby?” Sage strokes my cheek.
The spell is broken. I jump up then hurry back to the path.
“Wait for me. What did you think?” S
age gathers his backpack and catches up to me.
I liked it, and that’s the worst part of this mess. I liked kissing Sage. I swallow and blink my eyes to keep the tears from falling.
He touches my shoulder. “What’s wrong? Talk to me.”
Determined not to cry, I move a little faster down the trail. “Was that one of your moves? I have to admit, that was pretty slick.”
“You think I have moves?” Sage grins. “No, that was fully experiencing life in the present.”
I should have never agreed to try one of Sage’s silly meditations. My body was obviously confused after being alone for so long.
Sage hums as he hikes. The happy tune wears at the last of my patience until I grab a small pebble and flick it at him.
“Ouch! Are you actually mad at me?”
He knows I’ve been hurt. He mentioned it at lunch. With each step down the hill, my body grows tenser.
When I don’t respond, he adds, “You wanted to kiss me just as much as I wanted to kiss you. Remember, I’m the one who stopped the smooching.”
I glare back at him.
“And FYI... you are the only one I have meditated with.”
I toss another pebble.
“Radical honesty,” he calls before ducking once more.
I BARELY make it through the next morning’s chores before the need to write another letter overwhelms me. I try to focus on today’s final tasks to escape the rush of feelings that threaten to break loose. As soon as I harvest the last of the zucchini, I grab my notebook and favorite pen.
I have a confession to make. I kissed Sage yesterday. Even worse, I liked kissing him. It wasn’t planned. If he or I had tried to plan it, the kiss would have never happened. I would have kept control.
Robbie, it’s just not fair that we can’t be together. If you were here, I would have never been tempted to kiss another boy. You and me. It was always you and me. If the world were fair, we would have been the ones kissing yesterday.
I can hear your voice telling me to be happy. You aren’t mad at all about the stolen kiss, are you? Well, I am angry with myself. I wanted so badly to stay loyal to you.
