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It unsettles me; her being so far away, but I meant what I said. She does need to fly.
I can’t keep her here like a bird in a cage.
So pretty to look at.
So easy to love.
But she’d resent me in the end, and then things would turn bad, just like they did before.
Sage won’t be caged in, that would kill her spirit, and I could never be the one to do that.
As much as I want her to stay, I have to tell her it’s okay. That she should go and follow her dreams, that life will be fine without each other, even though it feels like my chest just got ripped open and my heart can no longer function because she’s going to be gone.
It takes all of my masking techniques, something I’ve perfected over the years, to not fold and beg her to stay.
She’s two years into her degree. I’m not going to interrupt that just because I’m a selfish bastard. It does make me happy that she’ll be doing what she really wants, it just sucks it has to be in California, three thousand fucking miles away.
I don’t even want to think about other guys, even though it’s inevitable.
Sage is a knockout. Add to that, she’s bright and bubbly, and people like being around her because she’s warm, genuine and has no agenda. Yeah, guys are gonna try their luck.
I don’t fucking want that. I want to be the one. But I can’t have what I want.
Not this time.
It’s done.
So I tell her part of my truth, that she will be fine and she will succeed at whatever she sets out to do, because she will. Then I make a joke about getting a suntan.
What a fucking schmuck.
“So what you’re saying is you really will miss me,” she asks, when we finally slide apart.
“Yes, but don’t tell anyone, I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”
She smiles, picking up her fork.
I’m glad her wounds have almost healed. Seeing the bruises all over her was just a cruel reminder of everything that happened. I know she hides a lot of things emotionally, and maybe those wounds may never fully heal, but all I can do is be there for her like I am right now and see where the road takes us.
“Of course you do, ever the ladies’ man,” she muses.
“I’ll still be here.” I shrug. “You can drunkenly text me anytime, or call me to whine about how much med school sucks because you got puked on or some old guy needed a rectal examination.”
She slaps me on the arm. “That is disgusting.”
“Hey, you’re the one who wants to be a doctor.”
She gives me a look. “So not funny.” Her eyes dance with amusement.
I know we’ve gotten closer; we both know it, we both feel it. That’s why this is so hard.
“How do your parents feel about it all?” I ask, knowing they will have their reservations too.
She shrugs. “They’re worried, but they know I have to start making real decisions about my future. Sometimes being here feels like being a kid all over again. Not that I’m not grateful. My parents are the best.”
I nod in agreement. “Yes, they are.”
“I can’t stop thinking, though,” she goes on as I take another mouthful of the cold pasta. I could heat it up, but I’d rather watch her talk instead. “About that kiss.”
