AllFreeNovel
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I laughed under my breath.
"You don't have to actually share," Sage said in a gentle voice. "I'm mostly teasing."
"No…" I took a breath. Complaining about my family had been something I avoided over the years. Besides Amaya, I had few friends who I felt comfortable sharing my problems with. Amaya's family was never really around, so it felt ungrateful to complain. I was lucky, and I knew that deep down. I also felt deep down that if I complained, the universe might retaliate. Take everything away from me.
"They're nice," I whispered.
"And?" Sage nodded, eyes so soft and non-judgmental. I felt warm, surrounded by art in a dimly lit hallway with a woman who was more beautiful than anything captured on canvas. She looked at me like I could never say anything wrong—except she'd seen me be wrong. Sage had seen me ruin artwork and tremble with anxiety during class critiques. She'd seen my frustration in meeting rooms, knew I overthought every line I put down. There was no reputation to uphold or ruin with her. I was safe. She'd seen me and she was still here. I was safe.
"And I feel like they don't really see me," I said and closed my eyes for a second, embarrassed. "God, that sounded melodramatic."
"No, it's okay." Sage stepped closer. "Keep going. I want to know. I want to understand why you look like two different people when you talk about them. One part of you is gracious, the other part sad."
"That's exactly it." I nodded. "I've been trying to make my art career work for so long. They've supported me in so many ways, but there's this deep fear that I'm going to screw this up. When they talk about my job and my work, there's always caveats. I know they're just waiting for me to strike out. They're waiting at home with open arms, and that messes with my psyche. I can't figure out how to tell them that it's not helpful. They are the people who know me best in the world, so if they don’t believe in me, then why should I believe in myself?"
"Because—much to my displeasure most days—you're an incredible artist."
"Did your insides catch on fire a little as you admitted that? There might be a pig flying outside, too. We probably should find a window."
"Yeah, I'm a little on fire. I'll manage," she said. "The pig can wait, though, because I'm about to make hell freeze over."
We laughed.
"I mean it, Pastel," she said with a smile. "Your work's amazing. You have a track record to prove it. It's long and impressive. I knew from the moment I started drawing in your sketchbooks back at school that you were going to make it, that I'd be fighting within an inch of my life to keep up with you one day."
"What?" My eyes widened at her confession. "Stop playing with me."
"How am I playing with you?"
"You knew from the moment you drew in my sketchbook?"
She shrugged, not understanding. "Yeah."
"Sage, you were taunting me," I said.
"Taunting you?"
My smile fell slightly as I took in the seriousness of her eyes. "Yes, taunting."
"Don't get me wrong, that does sound like something I'd do."
"You don't say."
She held up her hand. "But I can promise you, the sketching wasn't taunting you. I was having fun. And…also, kind of looking for my first queer friend. I had a hunch about you, but I couldn't be sure."
I laughed. "What?"
"I didn't know how to ask people back in college. I barely knew how to ask myself," she explained. "The drawing was fun. I thought we were having fun until you started glaring at me during class and giving my pieces low scores during our silent critiques. After the third straight one-star, I figured it was time to wrap that shit up and move on. I can take a hint."
"I only did that because I thought you were making fun of me. And you were!" I snapped my fingers as I remembered. "You told everyone I was afraid of art, that you were surprised I was still there."
"I mean, I was surprised." Sage rocked back and forth, looking guilty. "But I should have had a better filter and been aware that those art school kids liked to gossip."
I huffed. "So you're saying baby queer Sage was too nervous to ask a girl if she liked girls?"
"Yeah. I mean, weren't you?"
"Not really. I just always ask." I shrugged.
