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?"

"You," she said, then added with a giggle, "But I couldn't get your nose right so I kept on redoing the whole thing until I ran out of pages to sketch on."

Sage rolled over and turned to face me. She held my face and peered at my nose.

"If you look any closer, you'd see my brain through my nostrils."

"I doubt you even have brains," she said. She gave me a peck on the lips when I frowned. "I'm just joking, noodle arms." She sat up and hopped down the stage. "Come on," she beckoned, tugging on my arm before running backstage.

It took a while for me to get up. My feet were still asleep. Man, we really slept in. Even without pillows, I was that comfortable just sleeping next to Sage.  When I regained control of my limbs, I jogged backstage, where Sage was setting up a make-shift easel from mops and cue cards. There was a stool in the middle of the room.

I didn't have to ask what she was doing. I did want to ask why, though.

"Sit!" she chirped, already seated behind her sketch board. 

I did as I was asked and it didn't take long for Sage to get in her zone. It wasn't as I expected it to be. Honestly, I was expecting a Titanic sketching scene to go down but Sage kept about a meter away from me. Her blonde brows were scrunched up. For a while, there was only the sound of the pencil scratching the cue card. 

Then, I spoke up, "This is only the second time you've sketched me."

She peeped from behind her board. "What?"

"I saw your sketch stash in your journal before. There was only one sketch of me," I said, "and I was sleeping."

"Why do you sound offended?"

I huffed. "Because there were, like, 10 other drawings in there. Three of them were of Diego's, if I recall correctly."

Sage stopped sketching and spared me a pitiful gaze. "Four, actually."

"That's not helping."

"Are you jealous?"

"Yes!" I admitted. "He has four caricatures and I only have one sleeping portrait and one in progress."

Back in her zone again, Sage only smirked at my whining. 

"Why are you smiling?" I asked, indignant. 

"Do you really think those are the only drawings I have of you?" she said, not taking her eyes off the board. "I have pages in my sketchbook that are just filled with your eyes."

"My eyes?"

"Yeah. I kept trying to draw you before but I couldn't even get your eyes right."

"What's wrong with me eyes?"

"Nothing," she said. "It's hard to draw without something to base on, you know. I hardly got to see you back then. It'd be at the cafeteria, when you were two tables away from me and I couldn't see you that clearly. The only time I did have a clear basis for your eyes -- your whole face was that night at the lake house."

I smiled. I don't expect the answers that Sage give me to be that open. She catches me off-guard with her willingness to be vulnerable at times. "That night and now," I corrected her.

She pointed her pencil at me and winked. "And now."

It was a fairly quick sketch. When Sage finished, she called over to look at her work. She nailed me (no pun intended). "Damn, I look good."

She scoffed. "You're welcome!"

As a thank you, I leaned in and gave her a kiss on the forehead. 

"Wait!" she shrieked, breaking the embrace. She hurriedly took her pencil at hand again and scribbled something at the bottom left of the page. The arrow with a cross for a tail. Her little artist's sign and watermark. The symbol for Sagittarius.

"I don't understand that," I said, pointing to the sign.

"I told you before. It's the symbol for Sagittarius."

"I know," I replied, "but your birthday's on May 5th. Sagittarius isn't even your Zodiac sign. You're a Taurus. And I'm a Libra. So who's Mr. Sagittarius?" I narrowed my eyes. "Is it Diego?"

"No!" she said and chuckled, though I saw a little blush running along her neck. She was embarrassed! But why? Who is this Sagittarius?

"Oh, come on! Tell me what the sign means."

"I already did. It means Sagittarius."

"Yeah, but what does it mean for you? I can't see a connection between you and Sagittarius."

The blush went to her face and she pulled up her scarf to hide her burning cheeks. She was breaking.

"Tell me," I pleaded. "Who's Mr. Sagittarius?"

"Why are you so sure that it's a Mr.?"

"It's a Ms.?" A girl? Whoa. Is she bi? Is it Kaye? Kaye did tell me she liked girls. Does this mean Sage and Kaye--

Breaking me out of my ridiculous train of thoughts, Sage finally admitted, "It's a me."

"A you?"

"It's me!"

"What?" I was confusion personified at that time. But Sage explained further, much to her embarrassment.

"I'm Sagittarius," she simply said. "Sage-ittarius?"

I snorted back a laugh. "That's a cute pun."

"It's not just a pun. It's my actual name."

That was the moment I looked at her like she was crazy. "Sagittarius?"

"Yeah, it's a stupid name! Blame my dad. He thought it'd be funny, but it's not! That's why I had people call me Sage all my life."

"Sagittarius?!" I really wasn't over it. When it hit me that she wasn't joking at all, a fit of laughter erupted from me. "Sagittarius--" I wheezed, "--Dewirth. Sagittarius Dewirth!"

"Stop!" she chided.

But I couldn't. No matter how hard I tried. I can never say her name without laughing ever again.

"Fine, laugh all you want." Sage huffed. "But if you tell anyone, I will sneak into your bedroom in the middle of the night and smother you to death with a pillow."

"I won't tell anyone," I said, still chuckling a bit. She narrowed her eyes at me and I knew I had to convince her somehow so I made a crossing gesture over my chest. "I promise."

"Seriously, though--"

"Sage," I stopped her, "when have I ever broken a promise to you?"

She crossed her arms over her chest, and over the silence, we noticed that the blizzard had passed. It was almost 9 p.m. when we headed out the door. The cold was biting but the hand holding Sage's was enough to keep me warm.

And so we walked the empty streets, under the light of the lamp posts, on Christmas Eve. Looks like I got my wish after all... and it's all because of this diary I found.