Are You Mine?
Page 31
Fox sounds so casual, like nothing bad happened between us. I don’t understand how he can be like this, but I love it. “Yeah. I read you a poem I wrote.”
I get ready to recite it, but he narrows the space between his brows as he studies my face. “What are you doing here, Saige?”
“My Gramma gave me my mother’s journal. When she got scared of loving my dad, she went to Italy, but when he got tired of being without her, he flew five thousand miles to ask her to stay with him for the rest of their lives. He had no idea where she was, but found her on a beach.” I reach up and touch the wrinkled skin between his eyebrows. “I’ve hardly ever seen this.”
“I’ve hardly ever felt so crushed and confused. I thought we were over,” he says as he stares down at my feet.
“Yeah. Me, too.” I touch his hand, but I don’t dare hold it yet.
“What changed?”
It takes a moment to come up with something simple yet telling. “I did.”
Finally, Fox looks up at me.
I nibble my lower lip for a moment. “I decided you were worth the risk of getting hurt.”
“You still think you’re going to get hurt though.”
I shake my head. “I can’t predict everything, and I can’t change everything about who I am. I can’t change the fear of losing it all again, but if it does happen, I want to have experienced happiness and joy and love and. . .” I can’t finish the sentence. There are just too many things I want with him.
“Fox, you were right about how much you’ve worked for your dream, and I’m sorry I tried to make you stay and follow my half-baked ideas. I’ve done next to nothing to follow through with anything in my life.” I can feel the tears burning in my eyes, and as much as I don’t want them to fall, I recognize I’m powerless to stop them. “I was so scared of you leaving me I left you first.”
He covers my cheek with his hand and uses his thumb to brush away a tear. All I want for him to do is hold me as my muscles relax and the tension fades.
Fox’s smile is brilliant and louder than the crowd surrounding us. “You followed me here, found me among all these people. You’re following through with me, and that’s. . .” Fox lets the statement hang unfinished as he leans down and presses his lips against mine. I’m not sure what it is, but somehow the kiss infuses even more strength, courage, and resolve into me. He is what I want.
The crowd cheers, and for a second I think they’re cheering for us. We end the kiss and Fox retrains his eyes on the field. I turn around and see that Liverpool has scored again. I refocus on Fox quickly and love the delighted smile on his face and the way he pumps his fist in the air as if Liverpool’s triumph is his own. He brings his eyes back to me and the triumph is shared between us.
“Oh,” I say, as I remember the small gift I bought at the airport. I pull it from my small bag just as the crowd begins to sing again. It’s the song Fox played for me several times this summer, the one about walking through the storm because at the end, everything will be beautiful and you’ll see how lovely the sky is after something so dark as a storm, and instead of thunder and rain, you’ll hear the birds.
I mimic the painting he created, only in reverse. Instead of Fox giving me something; I’m giving it to him. While he’s slow to take it, I get the sense that it is not because he doesn’t want it, but because he understands the true implication of what I’m giving him. It’s not a cheap heart-shaped box from some marked up airport gift shop. It’s my heart, and I’m handing it over to him to hold and protect.
“Open it,” I say. The power of the voices around us almost drowns mine out, but he hears it. I think no matter where we might be, he’ll always hear it.
Just as he plucks the little piece of paper from within the container and squints to read it, two things happen. The crowd gets to the point of the song when they sing the title of the Liverpool anthem, “You’ll Never Walk Alone,” and Fox’s whole face lights up.
He holds the paper on which I’ve written I’m yours up to me. “For real this time?”
I nod. “For real. No matter what happens. As long as I have you in my heart, I’ll never lose you.” Just like my parents.
It’s not until he says, “Smile like you mean it,” that I realize how serious I must look. “Love is fun, Saige.”
“Will you be with me?” I ask because as long as the answer is yes, then I know I’ll be able to smile forever.
“I’m yours.”
My smile pulls and tightens the muscles in my face. It’s a smile that can only be rivaled by Fox’s. I want him to kiss me again, but instead, he says, “Knock, knock.”
“Who’s there?” I ask without hesitation.
“Aardvark.”
If possible, my smile grows as my heart lightens. “Aardvark who?”
“Aardvark all over the world to see this smile!”
“Knock, knock,” I say.
For a second, he looks shocked that I have one of my own, then says, “Who’s there?”
I say, “Olive.”
“Olive who?”
“Olive you.”
Fox doesn’t laugh, just cups my face with both of his hands. He kisses me again and confirms that risking my heart has been worth it.
This time, when the crowd shouts and applauds, I know no matter what’s happening with the players on the field, they’re really cheering for us.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Based in the American Midwest, N.K. Smith is a Technical Writer for a Fortune 100 company. The author of the Old Wounds Series, Ghosts of Our Pasts, and My Only, she is a mother of two who finds the time to write very early in the morning when the rest of the world is still fast asleep.
An avid lover of history, art, music, books, and people, she is interested in telling stories that speak to the human condition.
Website: http://nksmithauthor.blogspot.com/
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Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5358547.N_K_Smith