Life’s But a Dream

My mother was taken aback for a moment. Once she regained her composure, she could barely contain her excitement.

“Peter, you’ve finally come to your senses!” She couldn’t help but marvel, “I hate to say it, but Sage really isn’t a good fit for you. Come back as soon as you can.”

I didn’t argue. After agreeing on a time with my mother, I hung up the phone.

Once my wounds were bandaged, the doctor let out a sigh and looked at me with sympathy. “You’ve had some terrible luck, young man. Be careful not to get the wounds wet over the next few days.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than an anxious-looking Sage Arnold pushed open the door and stepped inside. Her gaze fell upon the injuries on my face, and she let out an exasperated laugh.

“That looks hideous. Peter, were you out of your mind? All you had to do back there was apologize! Why did you have to pick a fight?”

If this had happened in the past, my face would have flushed red as I argued my side. Yet now, I felt nothing at all.

I simply said calmly, “You don’t have to look.”

Then, under the doctor’s approving gaze, I pushed open the door and walked out. Hurried footsteps followed behind me, and my wrist was yanked.

Annoyed, Sage said, “Peter, did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed today? Was it worth getting so worked up over a joke at a concert?”

A joke? So being beaten by a crowd was just a joke to her.

I nodded with a half-smile. “How generous of you.”

Sage caught the subtle sarcasm in my words, and a hint of embarrassment flashed across her face. However, she quickly let out an impatient sigh.

“Simon is just a young guy who finally got to go to a concert. Did you really have to ruin his experience?”

How did me asking her to clarify things for me have anything to do with Simon Lane’s experience?

I felt so disgusted by her guilt-tripping rhetoric that I wanted to throw up. So, I shook off her hand and hailed a cab.

Sage frowned. “Why are you getting a cab? I’ll take you back.”

Yet, right after she said that, Simon’s soft voice came from behind us. “Sage, are you heading home now?”

Sage instinctively denied it. “No, where are you heading?”

The person who had just promised to take me home seemed to have forgotten all about it in a split second.

The cab I flagged down pulled over. Paying no further attention to the two of them, I got in and went straight home.

At eleven o’clock at night, while I was packing my luggage, Sage returned, reeking of alcohol. She walked over to me and sat down.

When I didn’t respond to her after a while, she rubbed her forehead and muttered, “My head hurts so much… I feel terrible.”

I knew exactly why she was making those gestures.

In the past, whenever she returned home smelling of alcohol, I would rush around in a panic to get her a glass of water. Even if she did not want it, I would stay by her side, using every tactic to get her to drink it. Yet now, like a bystander who had nothing to do with this, I showed no reaction whatsoever.

Sage’s cheeks puffed up, and as if throwing a tantrum on purpose, she sat there without saying a word. It wasn’t until I had folded my clothes and stood up that Sage finally couldn’t hold back anymore and grabbed my hand.

The force of it sent me back into my seat, and she pulled a bottle of iodine solution out of her pocket.