by N. K. Smith
“I’m hung over. Thought it was obvious.” She lets her suitcase drop to the floor, and then flops down on the couch. I go to the kitchen and bring her back a glass of water. She doesn’t take it when I hold it out to her.
“It’ll make you feel better. Get the poison out of you.”
She makes some noise that leaves no doubt about her mood. “What?” I ask.
“Poison? Really? It’s alcohol. Your Goodie-Two-Shoes-ness is annoying, you know?”
“I’m not a Goodie-Two-Shoes. I’m a graffiti artist. I think that rules me out for having two shoes made of good, right?”
“Whatever.”
“What’s your deal?” I probably should have said it nicer, but I can’t go back now. “I thought we were okay.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t be together,” she says and my stomach drops.
I keep my voice intentionally light, but I feel sick at her words. “Don’t break my heart, Saigey. Please?”
“Not breaking your heart. Just saving you the trouble.”
I stand up, cross the room, and hope she’ll look at me, but she doesn’t. “Saving me the trouble of what?”
“Wasting your time. I’m like a novelty to you, but you’re going to get bored, or if not bored, you’re going to see what everyone else sees about me.”
“What’s that?”
“That I’m toxic. You belong with fun people, doing fun things. I can’t be like your friend Gage.”
Her voice oozes hate as she says his name.
“I get that you don’t like him, but he’s my friend. You could at least be civil when you say his name.” Maybe I’m missing the point, or shifting the focus, but this is the shiny object of the moment.
“Civil to a guy who—”
“Get over it, already. He’s not the same guy from high school. People can change.”
At this, she sits up and stares me down. “No, they can’t. That’s just your wishful thinking. He’s an ass. He’s mean and cruel. He’s always been that way and always will be. He’s everything you’re not, and I don’t get why you hang with him.”
“Because he’s been my friend forever, and we have fun together.”
“People judge you by your friends. Don’t—”
“No. You judge me by my friends. Other people judge me by who I am.”
She won’t look at me now. “Fine. So I judge you based on having an asshole for a friend, it doesn’t change that we don’t belong together. I’m toxic and weird and you’re—”
“Who says?”
“Your friend.”
“Gage said that to you?” I’m going to kill him. Like straight up murder. But I can’t think about that now. All of my attention has to be on her, on fixing this situation, so I go to her and kneel down. I take her hands in mine and duck my head so I can peer up into her eyes and force her to look at me.
“Weird’s just another word for different. Of course, you’re different. I’m different, too. Life would be really boring if we were all the same. You’re weird. I’m weird, so that means we’re perfectly suited for each other.”
I can tell I’m making a bit of an impact, but still she says, “Right, but I’m toxic and you’re not.”
“So maybe I’m the antidote to your toxicity. Maybe without me, you’re lethal, but without you, I’d serve no purpose. Don’t take my purpose away just because some guy doesn’t understand how well we work with each other.”
“It’s not just some guy,” she says. “It’s—”
“A friend of mine, I know. I’ll deal with him and tell him not to be such a dick, but—”
“You shouldn’t have to command your friend to be human.”
I take my hands away from hers and drag them down my face before straightening my back. She continues to look at me, so for that I’m grateful. “I don’t want to talk about Gage anymore. I’m sorry he was an ass to you, but it shouldn’t matter what he thinks. It should matter what I think. And I think you’re beautiful and kind and good.” Taking her face into my hands, I lean forward and kiss her. “I don’t know a word that sums up all those things, but I know toxic isn’t it.”
“Why do you have to be perfect all the time?” The look on her face gives me permission to let out a sigh of relief. She’s not breaking my heart. At least not today.
“Because I have to be Super Fox to keep up with Super Saige.”
Her voice sounds like a laugh when she says, “You’re a dork.”
“A perfect dork, and don’t you forget it.”
“Okay.”
I take her hands once more and tug her to her feet. “Let’s go tag another bridge tonight. You can wear that pretty dress again. You look terrific in it.”
The color has not only come back to her face, it’s a little pinker as she blushes.
“Want to go, Oregano?”
Saige’s expression lifts into a smirk. “Oregano?”
“Yeah, you know, a play on Italian herbs. Sage. Oregano. Maybe tomorrow I’ll call you Rosemary, and after that Thyme.”
“So funny I forgot to laugh,” she says, deadpan.
“But you smiled,” I say before pulling her into a tight hug. “Don’t hurt me, Saige,” I whisper into her ear, but she gives me no reaction. “I promise if you give me your heart, I won’t break it.”
***
We don’t tag any bridges. Instead, she goes to sleep and I go home and work on a few panels for our book. After a while, I switch to the picture of her asking me if I’m hers. This is the third version. I like these colors better, but I’m stuck on whether I want to draw me giving her my heart or her giving me hers. I stop working on it when I can’t decide.
I dial Gage’s number.
“Hey, Foxy!”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, Gage, but I’m going to come to New York and junk punch you.”
“Wow. Is there more than one way to take that statement?”
“Why’d you have to be rude to her?”
He lets out a deep breath into the phone. “Of course that bitch went and cried to you about it. What’d she say?”
“First, she’s not a bitch, so if you don’t want me to junk punch you and stick my foot in your ass, you’ll take it back.”
“Sound sexy, Fox. How about—”
“Damn it, Gage.”
“Fine. I take it back. She’s not a bitch, but I wasn’t rude, I was drunk.”
“You told her she was toxic.”
“Sounds about right.”
“Do you want me to go around telling every girl you try to hook up with who you really are?”
“Well, that would take you an awfully long time since my list of chicks I want to hook up with is pretty extensive. Plus the kind of girls I hook up with wouldn’t care if you told them I’m a prick. Most of them love a bad boy.”
He’s right, and of course I wouldn’t actually do it, so I say, “I like her, Gage. Don’t mess things up for me.”
“But you could do better. She’s not even in the same league as Natasha.”
I feel an actual pain in my heart when he says her name. “Just promise me you’ll behave from now on. I don’t care if you like her; I do.”
***
It’s hard to go back to work after spending so much time with Saige. I think about her all day at the warehouse. Normally, I could do this without it affecting my job performance, but we’re one picker short today since Erik called in, so I’m relegated to fill orders until we catch up. Even though it’s only June, schools, teachers, and students are buying their books for the fall.
One reason I like my job as packer is because I can just match up the words on the paper with the words on the books, but as a picker, I have to find the spot in the warehouse and select the right book. The warehouse is laid out with numbers and letters on the aisles and shelving, so I constantly have to sing the ABCs to myself to remember where H or any other letter comes in the alphabet so I’ll know which direction to turn my cart.
Numbers are no
better. I keep transposing them, so I keep a cheat sheet on my clipboard, but it’s not a big help since after I read it on the clipboard, my mind grabs hold of it and the numbers get switched around by the time I look up at the shelving.
It takes forever for me to complete my first order, but even longer to complete the second one since thoughts of Saige distract me. I feel better about where we left things, but she almost broke up with me based on something stupid my friend said. She’s not the kind of girl who accepts affection, and I think it’d be easy for her to cut ties early and never look back, even if she kind of likes me.
“Fox?”
I turn and see Jason. “What’s up?”
“You’ve been standing in this section for like ten minutes. What’s wrong?”
I glance down at my order sheet, then back up at the shelving. I’ve lost my place, and while I’ll be able to recover, it’ll take a second to do it. I’m not thrilled to have to do it in front of Jason. No one here knows about my dyslexia. I know there’s nothing I can do to change how my brain works, but I don’t want to show the whole world something they consider a weakness.
Before I know it, Jason’s scanning my sheet and looking at the books in my cart. “These aren’t the right books. Are you working off the wrong sheet, or did you forget to put these with your last order?”
On instinct, I pull the order sheet away from him. I double check what’s in my cart and realize he’s right. Nothing matches.
“Damn.”
He looks at me for a second, but I can’t tell if he’s figured out I’ve got a learning disability, if he thinks I just made a mistake, or if he just thinks I’m stupid. “I’ll help you put these back, then let’s get lunch.”
As if the thing with Jason wasn’t bad enough, when I go to Saige’s, she hands me her laptop. A document is open and is filled with words. She wants me to read it. “One of my projects,” she says.
She never opens up, and I’m sure this is her way of giving me a little insight into her and how her mind works, but the last thing I want to do is struggle to read something in front of her. Feeling stupid in front of Jason today at work was enough, but now it seems I’m going to feel it again in front of her. She already knows my limitations, but this will be such a big demonstration, she won’t be able to ignore it.
But I can’t say no, so I start reading. After what seems like forever, I look up. I feel the heat just under the skin of my face as our eyes meet. “Sorry.”
“Is it that hard?”
“It just takes me a while.” I glance back down at the laptop, flip open the document files and see all the items she may eventually want me to read. “I probably won’t make it too far unless you have a screen reader.”
“Like a robotic voice reading it to you?”
I nod. “My dad got me a program a while back. It helps. A tutor back in fifth grade said I just didn’t try hard enough. Maybe it’s true, but I guess there have always been things more important to me than reading.”
Saige just watches me. I don’t see much judgment in her expression.
“But now I wish I’d tried harder so I could read your work faster.”
“You don’t have to—”
“No,” I say. “I want to. This is straight out of your head, and I want to know everything about you.”
It’s her turn to blush. “Well, I don’t have a screen reader, but I can do you one better.” She scoots closer to me on the couch and takes the laptop. “I’ll read it to you.”
Even though I’m embarrassed to have her read to me like I’m a child, there’s something comforting in her voice and that she’s so willing to do it.
She reads the story about a girl who decides one day to walk across America. The girl just gets up and starts walking from New York to California. “Is that you?” I ask when she sets the laptop on the coffee table.
“Not really. I mean, I’ve had the idea, but the character isn’t me.”
“But you want to go to California.”
“True.”
“And you like to be alone.”
“Also true,” she says. “But I’m not going to walk to California, nor will I leave all my stuff behind.”
“Why don’t you finish the manuscript?”
She just shrugs. I pull her close to me and wrap my arms around her. We’re quiet, and while I love conversation, there’s something incredibly special about just holding her. It’s not like she’d let just anyone do this.
“I want you to meet my mom,” I say.
Saige pulls away. “Your mom? Like in the. . .the. . .” Her voice trails off like she doesn’t want to say it.
“The hospital? Yeah. I mean, if you want to.”
She turns her head away as she screws her lips up. She nibbles on the inside of her cheek like she does when she’s thinking. “Is it, um, scary?”
“The hospital?” I’d never thought of this being a concern before, but then again, I’ve grown up visiting my mom in hospitals. “No. This one is like a resort. Okay, not really, but it’s much better than a few she was in when I was little. There was this state funded hospital and some of the people in there were straight up scary. My dad worried about my safety when we went to visit and about my mom’s every day she was there. That’s why he works so hard to pay for this private hospital. There are fewer patients, more staff, and they eat good food. There’s some nature around them, so my mom’s able to get outside and see some beauty, not just lime green walls and fenced windows.”
“Why do you want me to meet her?” she asks.
“You’re so funny, Saige.”
She creases her brow. “Why am I funny?”
“Because you’re asking why I want you to meet my mom. It’s not obvious?”
“Obviously, it’s not obvious if I’m asking.”
I take hold of her waist and pull her into my lap. As I cradle her, I lock my eyes with hers. A little chunk of her hair has fallen over her face, so I use the small finger of my left hand to sweep it away. “Because you’re important to me. I want her to know I have you, and I want you to meet her because she’s important to me.”
Saige swallows as if choking down something disgusting and breaks eye contact with me. I can feel her pull away in my arms. I don’t let her go until I absolutely have to. She sits up, but I keep her in my lap, my arm around her waist.
“Maybe you should meet my grandma then.” Her words are so soft I just barely catch them.
“Because I’m important to you, too?”
She’s silent as she lifts a shoulder and tilts her head toward it. I give her a squeeze because I want to hear it from her. Saige presses an elbow into my stomach. “Isn’t it obvious?”
“Obviously not if I’m asking.”
I shift her just a bit so I can look into her face again. Another strand of hair hangs over her eye, so I move it. “Yes. You’re important to me,” she says. Her voice is quiet again, so I squeeze her once more. She elbows me, so I tickle her.
Saige is incredibly ticklish for a girl with such a hardened personality. Her giggles are awesome. If they could be bottled and put into pill form, there’d never be a depressed person in the world. Saige is also very strong for such a little person. She’s about a foot or a foot and a half shorter than me with not much muscle bulk, but she can put up a struggle.
She wiggles and squirms as her hands wrap around my wrists in an attempt to get my tickling fingers away from her, but she’s laughing too hard to be effective. When I think she’s had enough, I let her go, and to my surprise, she jabs her fingers into my armpits and starts twisting them around. I’m already laughing from watching her squirm, but now there’s no way I can stop.
She slides her hands down my sides, which makes my whole body freeze. If there’s one place that is my tickle spot, it’s my lower sides. Once my paralysis wears off, I grab her hands and hold them up so she’s unable to touch me. “No fair,” she says in a whine.
“I love you.” It’s out before I cou
ld stop myself. It’s her that freezes this time and panic grips me all of the sudden. It’s way too soon to say something like that, especially to a girl like her. She looks freaked out. “Oh, God. Did I just say that out loud?”
She doesn’t answer me, but she doesn’t look away either.
“Yeah, I did, and now you’re flipping out.”
I let go of her hands, and they come flopping down onto her lap. She’s still in mine, and I don’t know if I should move her off me or hold her tighter. I don’t want her to use this as an opportunity to run away, but I don’t know how to keep her here.
“How does the man on the moon cut his hair?”
Saige licks her lips. The crease on her forehead deepens. Shit. I’ve messed this up, but I can’t let it show. That would start an avalanche of emotions I’m not prepared to have, so I give the answer. “Eclipse it. Get it?”
Something presses against my chest. I look down to see her hand there. She curls her fingers into my red shirt. All I have to do is turn my head a centimeter and my eyes are connected with hers again. Those hazel eyes show the intensity of her thoughts, but it might just be too much to hope that she’s thinking she loves me, too.
Just when I think she’s going to turn away again, she leans closer to me and lays her head on my shoulder. It’s not an admission of love, but it’s not a heavy shove out of her life either. She’s not breaking my heart, so I relax, both mentally and physically. We spend the next half hour on the couch. I hold her, and she slowly grows more comfortable inside my arms.
Chapter 13
Saige
A few days after he tells me he loves me, I wake feeling worried that with his admission there’s even more pressure on me to be a certain way. I feel like I’m living someone else’s life. It’s as though I’ve stepped into one of those romantic comedies. The ones that make it seem like a girl like me could actually get a guy like Fox. There’s nothing fundamentally wrong with me; I know that, but I’m not the typical girl who gets the guy.
He said he loves me. I was absolutely terrified. Still am, I think. Love is a choice, and what a huge choice it is for him to give his love to me. He’d probably say it’s not a choice. That you can’t control how you feel, but I know you can. I’ve controlled how I’ve felt all my life.
