Wander and Roam (Wander #1) (23 page)

S
AGE DOESN’T
want me. He would rather be all alone than have someone by his side. “Why? Why can’t I help you through this?”

Sage remains in his crisscrossed pose. “Studying Buddhism has really helped me come to terms with my tumor.”

“Can you tell me how?”

“Buddhist philosophy centers on suffering. Its causes, what helps, why humans suffer.” He leans back and stretches his legs out until he lies in front of the window.

Maybe that’s a sign this conversation will be too hard to have if we’re looking at one another. I lie down, too, right by his side.

“The texts would say my tumor is not the cause of my suffering.” He sighs. “Because death is an inevitable part of life.”

“That’s ridiculous. I mean, I know everyone dies eventually, but it doesn’t seem fair for people to die before they’ve really lived.” I can’t help but think of Robbie. He never had the chance to go to college or move out of his parents’ house or to celebrate his twenty-first birthday at a club. Life just isn’t fair sometimes.

Sage rests on one elbow and looks at me with troubled eyes. I cannot believe how insensitive I’ve been. He’s more aware than anyone of how much he might lose.

After a long, awkward pause, I ask, “So what is the real cause of suffering?”

“Attachment.” Sage lies back down. “In my case, attachment to living, attachment to all those things on my list, attachment to…” He stares at me, wordlessly communicating something with his pointed look.

He couldn’t mean he’s growing attached to me, could he?
I’m growing attached to him. Otherwise his rejection a few minutes ago wouldn’t have been nearly so painful. Then the truth behind his words sinks in. Robbie’s death would have never hurt so much if he were just another kid from my high school. My love—our connection—created the terrible pain and my unwillingness to let him go.

If Sage had introduced himself as the boy with brain cancer on day one, I never would have allowed myself to become so close to him. I would have been too scared to lose someone all over again. That’s the flaw.

“Attachment may lead to more suffering.” I lie on my side, facing Sage. “But how empty would life be without love? Without friendship?”

“That’s exactly the argument I’ve been struggling with. I don’t think the texts were saying never to get attached to anyone. I think they were saying be aware of how those attachments could be related to suffering.”

“You love all this philosophy stuff.”

“Well, I was a philosophy major.” His eyes twinkle with excitement. “Radical honesty time. You’re pretty cute when you’re talking all philosophical.”

“That’s a turn-on?” He has to be kidding.

“Probably only for a philosophy major.” Sage rests his hand on my hair. His fingers stroke my locks.

“Radical honesty time. I feel pretty attached to you.”

“Oh, Abby.” He runs his thumb along my hairline and over my cheek until it rests at the corner of my mouth. “I can’t fight my attachment, either.”

I try to find words to respond but am distracted by the path his thumb took. Sage’s lips—full and soft—are only an inch from mine. So tempting. Our lips meet. I show him my attachment through the slowest, softest, most tender kisses. When his tongue dances with mine, I know he’s showing his.

He breaks away and gasps for air. “Spend tomorrow with me? It’ll be my last day in Sydney.”

How could I say no? Each moment with Sage has become precious.

I
N THE
morning, I take the first ferry to Circular Quay. While waiting for Sage to show up, I head over to the street performers. The glass orb man performs, rolling his translucent ball along his body. As his actions increase in speed, the glass ball levitates in the air.

“Fantastic trick, even when watching it the second time.” Sage embraces me in a giant bear hug. “I’m so glad we get to spend today together.”

“Where’s your mother?” She can’t be happy I’m dragging her sick child around Sydney.

“I encouraged her to spend the day sight-seeing. I even left a list of the places she’d most enjoy.”

“I sense a ‘but’ coming.” I take Sage’s hand. I don’t want to miss one minute of contact with him.

“She’ll probably stay in the hotel room on her computer, doing pointless research for the thousandth time.” He sighs. “She keeps hoping she’ll find a magic cure-all.”

“You’re her only son. Of course she’d want to do everything she can to help you.” I understand standing on the sidelines, watching the one you love suffer. The fear of knowing it’s only a matter of time until you lose your loved one forever.

“Besides, I don’t want to spend my last day in Sydney talking about my mom.” He leads me away from the docks. “Today’s all about us.”

“It’s really your last day.” He flies home tomorrow, but it still makes me sad to think of finishing my volunteer time without him. The next two weeks are going to be so lonely.

“We’ll head to Susan’s for dinner. She’s fixing a special goodbye meal.” He guides me over to one of the bus stops.

“What else do you have planned?” I glance at the bus destination. “The beaches? We’re going back to the beaches?”

“I want to revisit some of our favorite spots on the hike.” A city bus pulls up. Its brakes squeal as it rolls to a stop, and the doors open automatically. “Is that okay?”

I step aboard the bus instead of answering. While we did make some special memories at the beginning, I completely broke down mid-hike.
Why would Sage ever want to bring me back there?

The morning passes without incident. Neither of us brought our suits, so we had to skip the inviting blue water, but we did make our way down to nearly every beach along our hike. At the last beach, Sage visits the refreshment shop and comes back with two double-decker ice cream cones. As I hike, I lick at the quickly melting cone, trying to catch each drip before it falls.

“Having fun?” He takes a big bite of his ice cream.

I’m not sure how to answer that question. I love spending time with him, but with each step we take, my dread builds. While I said my goodbyes to Robbie, I’m not sure I’m ready to face the cemetery again.

He picks up on my struggle and gives me the most awkward dripping-cone-in-hand hug ever. “There’s a reason I wanted to come here.”

“Yeah?” I nibble my cone and study the trail. Anything not to make eye contact right now.

“You’ve got a heart of gold, Abby.” Sage places his free hand over my heart. Its beat intensifies under his gentle pressure.

“But putting everyone else first isn’t always a good thing. You give and give and give until you have nothing left for yourself.” He begins walking again.

The trail’s rising higher and higher. We’re nearly there. I wish we could just retreat down the trail, but he keeps moving. “Sage—”

He doesn’t look back. “I know. You don’t even want to see the cemetery.”

So why is he making me do this?
For a moment, his cold determination is so different from the kind-hearted, sweet Sage I know.

“We can’t just pretend everything is fine.” He takes my hand and walks around the next corner. Waverly Cemetery appears on the right side. “Abby, there’s a fifty percent chance that I’ll be lying in one of these next month.”

The rows of gravestones, Sage’s words, my memories of Robbie. It’s all too much. I freeze. Sage glances at me, groans, and leads me to a small bench. We’re not actually
in
the cemetery, but Sage makes sure we have a prime viewing spot from this bench.

“I know you want to come home with me,” he says gently.

“I do. I want—”

“To take care of me,” he finishes. “You’re probably an expert at it, too. That’s the thing. You’re only nineteen years old. You
shouldn’t
be an expert. You should be out living your life.”

“I don’t mind. I want to take care of you.” I squeeze his hand. “Wouldn’t it be easier to fight if I was right by your side?”

“It sounds tempting, but it would be selfish to ask you to sacrifice your life for a second time.”

“Is it really a sacrifice if I’m doing it willingly?”

“What would make me happy is to see you actually enjoy life, create new experiences, make new friends, and see different places.” He kisses me softly on my cheek. “Please, Abby. Since I’m not able to, would you be my eyes and ears?”

“I don’t know.” I couldn’t go on enjoying life while Sage is in pain. It wouldn’t be right. “What if I don’t agree?”

He covers his face with his hands. I can barely hear his muffled response, “Then we say our goodbyes today and go our separate ways.”

He would leave me?
This living-life thing must be important to him, if he would end our budding relationship over it. I turn away from him and study the ocean.

“I just want to protect you from sacrificing yourself. If I don’t make it, I need to know you won’t lose yourself again.”

“Who cares about all your attachment nonsense?” Tears roll down my face as I face him again. “There’s this thing called grief. It’s normal for people to grieve their loved ones when something happens.”

Sage tugs at one of his curls. Even when he’s frustrated, he’s absolutely adorable. “Sure, grief is normal. We’ve all experienced grief. Locking yourself away from everyone, getting kicked out of school, running all the way around the world to get away, none of that is normal.”

Touché
. I don’t even know to respond. I can’t exactly deny any of his charges. I am guilty, guilty, guilty… of loving too much and too long and too deeply.

“If something happens to me, I need to know you’ll be okay.” His eyes plead with me.

“I can’t promise,” I whisper.

“But if you’re in the habit of living, it will make it that much easier for you.” Sage caresses my face. “It’s going to be so hard to be bedridden for months. I want to see the world through your eyes.”

I savor his gentle touch. Sage has seen me at my worst, guilt-ridden, lonely, and broken. He helped put the pieces together, after all. I can’t blame him for wanting to protect me. Besides, he may be right. When my world revolved around Robbie, I had absolutely nothing left after he died.

Maybe practicing living will help, and if it makes Sage happy…

“Okay.” I kiss his sun-reddened lips. “I’ll be your eyes.”