This Diary I Found

Epilogue

EPILOGUE

Sage used the coupon... on Christmas Eve Day. Talk about a Grinch!

"It'll only be a few hours. It's just that the janitor is this really sweet, ol' man who has to prepare Christmas dinner for his grandkids! I didn't want him to stay here and clean all of this up. Think of the kids!"

Yeah, Sage's pretty good with guilt-tripping. She's mastered the art of the puppy face. Ah, what the hell. Even without those pleading eyes, I still would have said yes if it meant spending more time with her.

"Just a few hours?" I asked.

"Yes!"

"Good, because you know I have to get back home before midnight." It was Christmas Eve, for crying out loud! I had to be with Lally and dad when the clock struck 12.

"You will be back home before 7 p.m., I promise," she said.

Famous. Last. Words.

In Sage's defense, though, neither of us could have predicted that a blizzard was going to lock us in the theater for hours. We spent about two hours cleaning the place up. The Monobloc last chair was stacked at exactly 5 p.m. but when we opened the doors to leave, a harsh winter wind blew us back in. Literally. Well, for me, at least. Sage stood her ground against the breeze and even muscled the door close. Meanwhile, the wind being caught on my coat triggered some sort of mechanism that turned my clothes into a parachute that dragged me backwards. Man, I gotta put on some weight!

As the metal door thumped close and the sound of the blizzard kept out, I heard Sage's footsteps hurrying towards me.

"Are you okay?" she asked, immediately bending down to help me up. 

"Mhmm," I grunted. I was not okay. When I tried to straighten up, my spine cracked twice. 

"Remind me to put rocks in your boots when it's windy outside," Sage quipped, as we walked back to the stage.

"That was a strong wind!"

"Didn't knock me down."

"You were holding on to the railings. I had nothing!"

"Excuses, excuses," she tutted. 

I had to remind myself that I can never win an argument with that girl. She had the brains and the stubbornness of an undefeated debater. 

We agreed to stay in the theater and wait the blizzard out. We tried everything to keep ourselves from being bored. We listened to music until Sage's phone's battery life hit 0% (I swear, she cried when she realized she didn't bring her charger). We did little improv bits on stage. We played never-have-i-ever, where I found out that Sage had shoplifted before. "It was a Snickers bar. I was hungry," she reasoned out. We also fell asleep at one point, after cuddling by the heater to stay warm. 

It was half-past 7 when we woke up. Waking up with her frizzy, blonde hair all up in my face never gets old. She smelled like strawberry. Not even the elegant kind of strawberry smell. She smelled like one of those kid's perfume from Macy's. But I loved it. It fit her so well. She did act like a kid at times. 

I hugged her tighter and kissed the back of her head. She stirred up from her nap.

She groaned. "I was dreaming."

"Of what?"

"Sketching," she replied. "I was in Mr. Pascal's class and I was sketching."

"Boooring," I joked, but she didn't find it very funny. She elbowed me in the stomach while I laughed. So I stopped and asked, "What were you sketching?"