Are You Mine

Chapter 20


Fox


Saige acts like she’s just going to leave me at my car and go into her apartment, so after tossing my stuff through the open window of my VW, I catch up to her just as she pulls open the door to the building. I wouldn’t normally just grab a person, but I have to in this case. I doubt she would stop if I just call her name.

I wrap my fingers around her bicep and stop her from going inside. Saige swings back around, pulls her arm out of my grip, then folds both over her chest. She’s not looking at me. She’s looking past me, and it’s driving me nuts.

“What are you doing, Saige?”

“Trying to go into my apartment, Fox.”

I clench my jaw. “I’m not stupid. I see that you’re going into your place. I’m asking what the hell you’re doing with this.” I wave my hand between us. “What did I do to piss you off like this?”

“I’m not pissed off.”

A laugh bubbles up within me, and I can’t cut it off in time for her not to hear it. Finally, she turns her sharp eyes to me, but it’s not the kind of gaze I want from her. “You’re clearly pissed.”

“Not pissed. Just want to go inside.”

“Without me?” I ask.

“Kind of.” Good old Saige, never holding back the harsh honesty. This is what she’s like when she’s drinking, but I know she’s sober.

The deep breath I take doesn’t keep me from feeling the pain that she doesn’t want me right now, but maybe we’ve just been spending too much time together. Maybe she just needs a little break, so I nod. “Okay. Gage invited me to the city tonight, so I’ll just. . . go.”

She doesn’t say anything, but the intensity of her gaze is gone. Not that this expression is much better. Now she looks disapproving with her arms folded over her chest and her lips pinched up tightly. I know she and Gage don’t like each other, but what does she want? She doesn’t want to hang out, and I’m not just going to go sit at home alone. I’m not like her.

I wish she’d say something, but when she doesn’t, I fill in the silence. “So maybe we’ll work on the new novel tomorrow?”

Saige looks away. “I don’t want to work on the stupid gods and demons novel. I only did the other one because it was Myka’s.”

If I thought the pain of her wanting to be alone was deep, the pain of what she said about the graphic novel I’ve been drawing for years is severe. She said she was into it. She said she liked the idea and would love to write it with me.

I don’t know what I look like, but it must be something pitiful if Saige drops her irrational wall of distance for just a moment to say, “Fox, I didn’t mean to say the novel is stupid. I—”

“Well, you can’t really take it back, can you?”

“No, but I—”

“Yeah, well. . .” I don’t finish. All I can think about now is the question running circles in my mind. Why am I here when I could be having fun? It’s not like Saige is even acting like she wants me around. Gage wants to spend time with me. Hell, half the town of Pechimu has been calling me to hang out. I don’t need to deal with this. “I’ll see you later, Saigey.”

If she says anything as I walk back to my car, I don’t hear it.

In three hours, I’m walking around New York with Gage. I wish I could say I’m paying attention to my friend and our surroundings, but I’m not. My mind is on Saige, and I’m constantly checking my phone for texts and voicemails which is ridiculous since she doesn’t text me much and whatever happened today is still too fresh to expect her to leave me voicemails.

The afternoon passes quickly until it becomes evening and evening becomes night. I use my fake ID to get into a loud club with Gage. The women here are gorgeous to the extreme, and it seems like my buddy feeds a line to each and every one of them. He gets a couple to bite. I watch as he dances with a few, exchanges numbers with more than a few, and buys drinks for three different girls over the span of three hours.

For my part, I smile at the women who give me a look of interest, but I don’t go out of my way to speak to any of them. I can’t stand how antisocial I’m being, but I feel tied to this table. Our drinks are here—whiskey for Gage and water for me—and Gage keeps walking away to hit on women. Plus, I’m checking my phone too much to have any kind of meaningful conversation with anyone.

Finally, just when the club really starts hopping, I dial Saige’s number and am disappointed when it goes to voicemail. “Hey, this is Saige’s voicemail. The first telephone recording machine was invented by Valdemar Poulsen way back in 1898, and the answering machine as we know it was invented by either William Schergens in 1931 or by William Muller in 1935, and the modern voicemail system was created in the 1970s, so I don’t think I need to tell you what to do.”

After the short beep, I take a deep breath, then feel stupid because that’s the first thing she’ll hear when she checks her messages. “Saige. I don’t know what’s up. I love you. I’m out with Gage, but all I can think about is you. Whatever I did to tick you off, I’m sorry. I don’t understand how your mind works, and I’m sorry about that too, but. . .” I let my voice trail off.

Just then Gage comes up and loudly says, “Let’s go someplace else, Foxy. This place is beat.”

Into the phone I say, “I’ll leave you alone, but I’ll say it again. I love you, Saige.” I hang up and turn to Gage.

“Trouble in Toxic City?”

“Shut up.”

“Come on, let’s go to this little dive I know. The shots are cheaper and the women are drunker.”

I place my hand on Gage’s shoulder and push him. “This place is just getting started.”

“Yeah, but all the hot women are already here.” He holds up his phone. “And I got all their numbers. Come on, let’s go.”

Gage isn’t lying about the bar’s status as a dive. It’s a little hole in the wall place. Even though he’s already wasted, Gage does another shot as we sit by the bar. As he lifts his hand up to the bartender for another drink, I take out my phone and check for any new calls or messages. I would have felt it vibrate if there had been, but I can’t stop myself from looking at the unlit screen.

I wonder what Saige is doing.

The sound of glass against wood stops me from thinking too much on the subject. In front of me is a tumbler of amber liquid, matching the glass in Gage’s hand. “I don’t—”

“Drink,” he finishes. “Yeah. I know. But you’re a depressed mofo tonight and it’s ruining my game.”

I take in the bar, making sure to be as dramatic about it as possible to hold Gage’s drunken attention. “Yeah, there’s a lot of need for game in here.”

“You’re usually the life of every party, my friend, but right now you’re Mr. Quiet-Checks-His-Phone-A-Lot.”

“Yeah, well,” I say, but get cut off.

“Well, stop it. It’s not like we get to hang anymore. Let that girl be that girl in Pechimu and get your mind here.”

I push the alcohol to him. “I’m not going to drink that.”

“I know, but just hold it in your hand so you don’t look like such a sad sack of shit, okay?”

I have a strong urge to get angry, but I laugh instead. Laughing at jokes is my thing. Getting angry is Saige’s.

“There you go,” Gage says as he slaps me on my back. “Drink it or don’t. Just be Fox and all will be cool.”

It’s surprising to get such good advice from my friend, but it is good advice, and I take it. I go from scratching at the worn polish of the bar to laughing with my buddy over things that happened years ago. Gage stops every once and a while to text on his phone, and I take the opportunity to talk with the couple drinking next to me.

“So then Max, my old football buddy, falls right into the river! They have to get the cops and firemen to pull him out!” The guy next to me, Trent, hoots with laughter, and I laugh with him. I didn’t pay attention to the whole story, but most people don’t care if you actually listen, so long as you respond the right way.

Trent’s laughing so hard he falls off his stool. His girlfriend Jill gives me an apologetic look as she slides off her stool to pick him up. I help, and she says, “It was good to meet you, Fox. I need to get him home before he starts doing something embarrassing.”

“Will you be okay?” I ask. Jill can only be a hundred or so pounds, and Trent is a huge guy.

“Yeah. He’ll get his footing, and there are cabs all over.”

“All right. Well, take care. Good talking with you.”

“See?” Gage says as I feel his arm move around my shoulder. “This is the Fox we know and love! The guy who can talk to anybody at any time about anything!”

“I’m having a great time, so thanks for kicking my ass a little bit.”

“What are friends for?” He glances over my shoulder for a second, then a certain wide grin that can’t be contained appears and his eyes light up. I know something’s going on. It’s his devious face—the one reserved for cooking up elaborate plans to cause some immature mayhem.

When I try to turn my head to see what’s behind me, Gage stops me with a hand on either side of my face. “So, Foxy,” he says with a slurred voice. “You are not going to believe who I bumped into a few days ago. I mean, seriously, I didn’t believe myself because she’s such a. . . a. . .you know, one of those things that not many people get to see?”

I try to shake my head, but I can’t because he’s holding it so tightly. “You’re drunk. Why don’t we—”

“Look who just got here.”

When he lets go of my head, I crane my neck. My eyes settle on Natasha. “Oh, my God.”

The smile she wears is bright enough to make the entire room fade from view and everything beyond her in my mind disappears. “Hey, Fox.”

***

I have no idea what time it is, but Natasha and I left Gage back at the doorway to his apartment hours ago. What should be a strange and awkward early morning stroll with her is actually quite calm and natural. It’s like the past couple of years evaporated, and none of that horrible business of breaking up happened. The only physical difference is that we’re not holding hands.

In the past few hours we’ve covered every topic from her school to my art, her parents, and my dad—she didn’t ask about my mom—plans for the fall, and the current economic and political climate in America. Well, she covered that topic, I just listened.

I notice differences between her and Saige. These are all things I’ve forgotten about Natasha, like how much she smiles and laughs and how comfortable she is. I can’t imagine a time when Saige would just do a little spinning ballet twirl in the middle of a New York sidewalk. I mean, it’s the wee hours of the morning and all, but still, there are people around, and Natasha acts like twirling is natural. Free isn’t exactly the word I’d used to describe her, but it’s something like that. It’s not like if I asked her to pick up and come to England with me, she’d do it. Natasha is big on obligation. She likes it, she respects it, she conforms to it, but I don’t think she’d act like it was such a big deal if I go.

Not like Saige. Saige pulls away every time we talk about the future. Not just England, but her going to NYU or California, too.

I look over at Natasha as she climbs up onto the rim of the fountain and holds her arms out to help her balance. She has long legs, and she lengthens them as she takes each step around the fountain. “I’d forgotten how graceful you are,” I say. I sit down on a park bench and just watch her.

“Yes, my mother is still upset I’m no longer taking ballet. So what else is new with you, Fox? Do you have a girlfriend?”

“Yeah.” I look at my lap while I pull out my phone and see no messages or missed calls from Saige. Natasha hops down from the fountain when I look back up. She strides over to me, gathers her long hair into her hands and pulls it over one shoulder before sitting next to me.

“So why are you in the city at,” she pauses to check her watch, “four fifteen in the morning without your girlfriend?”

It all hits me at once. The argument with Saige, the long night with Gage, the tiredness I feel, and that I’m sitting in some park in New York with my ex-girlfriend all press down on me. I rub my face with my hands. “I don’t really feel like talking about it.”

“Aw, come on,” Natasha says as she nudges me with her shoulder. “You might recall, I’m a great listener.”

I do remember how she listened to the things she wanted to, but never wanted to hear anything important I had to say. “I’m not going to talk about it with you.”

She blows out an annoyed breath of air and scoots an inch away. I don’t look at her though; not even when she asks, “Why not? I’m—”

“Because talking to an ex-girlfriend about my current girlfriend seems like the wrong thing to do.”

“Why? I’m not going to seduce you or anything, Fox. I mean, I have a new boyfriend myself. I’m just asking you about her. That’s all.”

I stand up and shove my phone and my hands into the pockets of my jeans. “No, Tasha, you didn’t. You asked me why I’m here instead of with her, that’s not the same thing as asking about her. And I never thought you were going to seduce me. The fact that you even said that—”

Natasha stands up, folds her arms over her chest, and juts out one hip. This is her angry pose. “Whatever, Fox. I don’t know why I let Gage talk me into coming out to see you tonight. You made how you felt perfectly clear the day you broke up with me.”

“I did?” That’s news to me because I remember the break up being confusing, not clear.

“Yeah, you did.”

“How? I still loved you when I broke it off with you. The only reason I broke up with you was because you were too smart for me, and I didn’t fit in with your crowd.”

Natasha shifts her body, loosening her posture and letting her arms fall to her sides. “You’re smart, too. I don’t know why you always felt—”

“Because I can’t talk about the books I’ve read or the greatest philosophers in the world or about all the intellectual things I’ll do or say or think. You—”

She interrupts me, which is just pay back for me doing it to her. “If that’s all that came between us, there’s no reason we’re not together. I didn’t always fit in with your crowd—which, by the way, includes just about everyone in the universe, making it much harder than the people I hang with—but I tried to fit in. I tried because I wanted to be with you.”

“Yeah, but you not fitting in with my crowd wouldn’t have held me back in life. We both know I would’ve limited your social climb and—”

“My what? Social climb? Is that what you think is important to me?”

I move backward when she takes a step closer. “No, but it’s important to your mother, to your father, to all the people you hang around with.”

“So that’s what matters? What the people around me are interested in? This isn’t you, Fox. You don’t make these kinds of stupid statements. We can fit with each other.”

“Thought you had a new boyfriend.”

“So?” she says, like it doesn’t matter at all. “He’s not you.”

While her words feel good to my ego, they hit my heart hard. “I have a girlfriend. I love her.”

“You loved me once, too.”

The hope in her eyes is strange. I never thought I’d be in this dilemma. When I broke it off with Natasha, I honestly thought our paths would never cross again. She’d be with her highbrow crowd changing the world and making it spin, and I’d be tagging bridges and living with Pop.

This whole situation doesn’t sit right with me. It feels off, like it shouldn’t be happening. I might have loved her once, but I don’t think I love her anymore. I love Saige.

Natasha asks, “You can’t love me again? You can’t—”

I don’t want to answer her question because it’ll hurt her feelings. “I can’t stop loving my girlfriend, Tasha.”

“Why not?” She folds her arms over her chest again. “It seems obvious you stopped loving me easily enough.”

“I didn’t stop loving you, but I guess I just love her more.”

***

It’s eight in the morning when I get to Saige’s apartment. I expect her to be sleeping, but as I raise my fist to knock on her door, I can hear sounds and voices coming from within. Like a nosey little boy, I press my ear to the cold metal of the door and listen.

I hear Myka say, “Don’t sabotage this, Saige. He’s a good guy, and he likes you. Being in love is scary, but it’s okay.”

“You’re projecting,” Saige says back. “You don’t know how I feel about him or in general.”

“Right, because I haven’t been friends with you for years. I haven’t spent huge chunks of time figuring you out.”

“You know, everyone keeps telling me it’s okay to feel scared or whatever, but I don’t like it. I don’t want to like it. And what is it going to get me? A confrontation I don’t want? Some undefined time in the future when he leaves? I mean, I didn’t even call his graphic novel idea stupid and he took off because he wanted to believe I think he’s dumb.”

“Are you sure it’s not you who wants to believe something?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Myka sounds irritated when she speaks next. “You want to believe everyone in the world will leave and worse than that, you want to believe people leave because there’s something wrong with you. Your mom was killed because she worked in a place that seemed powerful to other people. Your dad was killed because he wanted to do something about your mom. And your grandmother? You left her, not the other way around.”

“Yeah, well, thanks for this stroll down heartbreak lane,” Saige says. “Thanks for coming over so early to cheer me up with the death of my parents. If you’re finished now, you can go. I’m sure Valentine has some metal hearts and flowers to—”

“Don’t be like this, Saige. You’ve got a guy who is so into you, and you’re into him too. Just go with it.”

I could probably stand out here and listen to their conversation all day, but it doesn’t help me convince Saige that it’s okay to love me. I stand up straight, raise my fist again, and knock. A few seconds later, the door swings open. Myka’s smiling at me, but she has a certain wide-eyed look that must come from her conversation with Saige.

She has a couple books in her hands which she flips end over end. “Hey, Fox.” Myka’s voice is loud, like she’s trying to make sure Saige can hear her greeting me.

“Myka.”

She glances quickly at the foyer wall, but I know the little flick is to alert me of Saige’s presence in the kitchen, right on the other side of that wall. That little action causes my stomach to tumble like I’ve just gone over the edge of the big drop on a roller coaster. “She’s freaking,” Myka says in a low voice. “Don’t let her push you out.”

Although it is not, it feels like a threat, and it’s enough to take all my words away. Myka must be able to tell how nervous I feel because she takes the stack of paperbacks in her hands and thwacks me with them on the shoulder. “Ow,” I say and rub my arm.

Myka points at me. “She likes you. Don’t forget that.”

I run my tongue out over my bottom lip and move it from side to side quickly. I’m not sure what to say or do once I get inside Saige’s apartment, but right as I think to ask Myka for better advice, she slips out the door beside me and is gone.

I step into the foyer, close the door, and hate the heavy feeling that layers every good thing within me right now. It doesn’t have to be like this, so I take a moment and imagine the perfect image of Saige and me together. We’re surrounded by thousands of people cheering us on as we smile at each other and kiss and smile some more.

Usually when I focus on something I want, I get it, so after a moment, I feel confidence coming back to me, and I round the corner to the kitchen. Saige is at the table with coffee in hand.

“Morning,” I say. She looks up at me, but doesn’t say anything. I’m not sure what her expression means, but given the conversation she just had with her best friend, I figure it’s not good. I won’t acknowledge it though.

I sit down across from her and smile like her frown doesn’t cut into me. “So I spent the evening in New York City and guess what I did all night?”

Saige presses her lips together and subtly shakes her head.

“I checked my phone for messages from you. And then I called. And then I checked again. And then—”

“Fox, I think it would be better if we don’t—”

I grab her hand, draw it across the table, and press my thumb into her palm while I use the tips of my fingers to graze her knuckles. “First, I forbid you to break my heart. Second, stop pretending you’re going to break up with me. Third, and this one is going to sound harsh, but it comes from love, so don’t freak, okay?”

Saige stays quiet but tries to pull her hand back. I don’t let her.

“So third, Saige, I’m going to need you to get over this issue you’ve got going on. You’ll never experience half the great things in life if all you do is protect yourself to the point where no one can get to you.”

“Experience is overrated, especially if it comes with pain or at the expense of comfort.”

I shake my head and squeeze her hand. “That’s stupid.”

Again, she tries to pull her hand away, but I keep hold of it. Her expression has hardened, but I used the word for a reason. “We can be stupid together, you know? You can protect yourself from the world; just keep yourself open to me. I’m not asking for much, Saigey.”

She lets out this breath that’s half a laugh and half a snort of disbelief. “Yeah, you’re not asking for much; just a complete overhaul of who I am and how I think,” she says after a good length of time has gone by.

“No. That’s not it at all. I love how you think. I love who you are. I just want you not to put that wall between us. Use that wall to keep other people out; just don’t use it on me. Because I’ve got to tell you, I have all the cool wall scaling tools and equipment. If you make me, I’ll break out my grappling hook and scale your fortress wall like a ninja. You’ll never see me coming until it’s too late.”

Although I meant it as a joke, Saige’s expression doesn’t shift. “It’s already too late.”

Her words feel like a punch to the gut, but I turn them around. “See? Ninja Fox, already inside your heart. It’s too late to turn back now. You’re stuck with me, Saigearina.”

I release her hand, stand up, grab a cup, and pour some coffee. I am beat and would love to take a nap, but I’m not sure she’s ready for me to go climb into her bed like we didn’t just almost break up again. “So what do you call a guy with a rubber toe?”

“What?” The confusion on her face is priceless, and when I repeat the question, she transforms her confusion into exasperation, but I can see the tiniest of smiles playing on her lips. “I don’t know, Fox, what do you call a guy with a rubber toe?”

“Roberto.”

Saige looks out the window for a second, but then returns her gaze to me. “You’re a dork.”

The light has come back into her eyes and there is no more expression of sadness or neutrality.

“I’ll take it,” I say.