Page 72 of Our Sadie

“I’m just...” I gesture towards all the majesty surrounding us. “Taking in all the natural beauty.”

“Never took you for the crunchy granola type wanting to live in the woods,” she teases, her eyes twinkling. It does me good to notice this. To reflect on how sunny her mood’s been lately.

Even the mention of her parents when we discussed her family’s wine cellar didn’t cause any alteration in her. In fact, she’s wearing a knit cap with a poof on the top. So, I figure turnabout is fair play.

“Never took you for the cute little poof on a beanie type.”

She reaches up, her slender fingers feeling out the poof as if she forgot it was even there. “That’s Win’s fault. She sent it to me from Iceland.”

“Win?”

“Winter Corsair. My best friend.”

“You have a best friend?” Jerome glances at her with wide eyes. “Why is this the first time we’re hearing about her?”

In a Dom-like gesture, Sadie lifts a shoulder and lets it drop, not bothering to make eye contact as she rearranges her left hand. “I don’t know. I wasn’t trying to keep her a secret. We chat over text and email all the time. She’s part of the reason you three are here.”

I blink at her. “Really? How? Did you tell her about us?”

Suddenly Sadie peers up at me, reminding me of a deer caught in the headlights before the expression fades. “Yes. It is a unique situation, after all.”

“True,” Jerome picks up the discussion, and whatever bizarreness I picked up on passes.

Maybe I imagined it.

Besides, the Meredith Market has a myriad of kitschy souvenirs perfect for my needs. There are cards in the shape of pine trees, stickers of every shape and size, postcards featuring lots of local sights, stuffed black bears, a ceramic teapot covered in bright autumn leaves and tons more. Mom would have a field day in here.

I just wish Dad and I could come back and visit this shop with her in tow. Hell, I could carry her in piggyback style. She never weighed much, and in her increasingly frail state...

Well, I’d rather not think about all that. I’m not playing dumb. I realize that MS doesn’t currently have a cure and that her treatments are becoming less and less effective. But I’m not giving up on her. Not ever. If I hadn’t come across Elegance, I would’ve begged, borrowed, or stolen whatever necessary to get Mom the medical care she requires.

The gift she needs the most is for this shit to go into permanent remission.

The thought of her wasting away into nothing is excruciating.

“Hey, man, I found a fridge magnet shaped like New Hampshire state with covered bridges on it. Do they like campy?” Someone asks me. Jerome.

But, no. Or at least she didn’t used to.

She used to love minimalist and simple decor. Classical styles because she’s a class act. That’s what Dad has always said. He’s right, too. She is a class act. Abruptly, my throat closes up, a knot in it the size of a fist, and the only thing I can do is abandon the store without explanation.

It’s only as I’m inhaling that frigid outside air that I’m able to calm down. It’s Sadie who catches up to me, but I don’t look at her. Instead, I stare at a sign advertising the market’s homemade ice cream.

“If you aren’t finding what you like, we can switch stores.”

Sadie is being kind. Way too kind. It’s making my throat hurt worse.

“Not...Not necessary,” I croak like a fucking bullfrog.

“Zach...” She grips my shoulder, but I can’t take it. I jerk away from her, requiring some space. It’s only when I hear her gasp with obvious pain that I whirl back around to find her sprawled over the gravel-littered parking lot.

“Shit, I’m so sorry.” I scoop her up. She’s not crying or making any sort of agonized sounds, but I do detect blood on her knees at the same instant that Dom and Jerome step outside to discover us.

And that’s how I find myself in the unenviable position of hovering over her like some slack-jawed brute.

Fuck me.

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