I huff. I shouldn't have brought it up. "No, but…she said—and this is a quote—that no woman in her right mind would ever take my attention seriously. That bothered me."
"Again…why?"
"Because what if I did fucking like somebody, and I wanted them to take me seriously? I'm a serious person."
"Pfft, no you're not. You're an angry person; that doesn't make you a serious person."
"Saige—"
"It's not a big deal, Elias. It's just…who you've become. It's who you wanted to be that night I almost hit you with my car. I mean, your pain was palpable then, but you were warm. It may have even been what made you warm, but you aren't like that now. And your coldness—your indifference—it's a warning to anyone who's paying attention. So, no, no one would ever take your attention seriously; not now."
"Okay…great."
"Say it with conviction—you got what you wanted. No one and nothing will ever disappoint you because you don't care. And I don't think you could make yourself care at this point, so don't be angry or sorry about it now. Why would you be? People do whatever you want, you're never lonely, and you never get hurt." She rolls onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. "I wish I could be like that."
"It's overrated."
"Itriedto be like that," she says softly. "It didn't work for me. I still ended up like this." Laughing a little, she adds, "Remember when you were the drunk one telling me your secrets?"
"We've come full circle."
"Nah, not full circle. I liked you then. I still hate you now."
"You liked me?"
"I mean, you were different; I told you that. You know—not that you care—but I really didn't know. I thought I was getting a little brother. Like Pokémon cards, action figures, and…Ninja Turtles."
"I like all of those things."
Saige scoffs. "You don't like anything. You don't even like hockey anymore."
My jaw ticks. It's a sore spot for me, made worse by the fact that I think Saige might be right. I think on some subconscious level I didn't want to try after my accident, because if I wasn't ever one hundred percent again, hockey would be another thing that made me fucking hate myself.
No one can hurt me. Hockey can't hurt me, either. But Saige does.
The Wolverines did look like shit, though. I don't even think I'd need a good arm to outplay any of them.
"You don't like writing anymore," I counter.
"How do you know about my writing?"
I pay a lot more attention to you than you think. "Social media."
"I have you blocked."
"Not anymore."
"It's not that I don't like writing—I have nothing to write about anymore. Nothing feels good, and the things that feel bad…don't feel bad in the right way."
"What's the right way?"
"Um…it's not really something I can explain. It's definitely not something I can explain to someone likeyou." She sighs. "Anyway, it's been super fucking weird, but the floor has stabilized, so I'm going to go to bed. And since you've been so weird, I'm also taking the dog."
I laugh a little. "Okay."
She stands and then pats her leg. "Come on, Arcadia."
I follow her out of the bathroom, feeling this weird sinking sensation in my gut as I watch her leave the bedroom. I want her to stay with me. I wanted her to sleep in my bed.
