Free Circle in the Sand by Lia Fairchild Page B

push her into talking; I only try to be there. Maybe that’s not
     enough anymore.
    At first, we all steer clear of the past. We also don’t talk about our current lives.
     Instead we talk about books, movies, reality television—safe topics that will keep
     this conversation light. None of us wants to bring up anything that will take our
     mood down, which makes me consider we all might be holding on to something that could.
     It also shows me how hesitant we’ve become to share our feelings.
    Later, we discover two treasures: The Anderson’s extensive CD collection with tons
     of great albums from the eighties to now, and frozen cookie dough in the freezer.
     I take charge as DJ while Emily gets the cookies going. Sage slips away to get on
     her laptop. I switch from song to song, continuing until the boos being shouted from
     the other room subside. Finally, I put on Madonna’s Greatest Hits, the perfect party-girl
     dance mix. Moments later, I come up behind a rapidly typing Sage.
    “Really?” I say over her shoulder.
    “I’m sorry. This is important.”
    “It’s the weekend. Your boss can’t give you a break?”
    “I’m under a lot of pressure,” Sage says never stopping her fingers. “You wouldn’t
     understand.”
    Of course I wouldn’t understand the pressure since I never had a real job. “Nice,” I say and walk away.
    “Wait!” Sage turns in her chair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I swear.”
    “So how did you mean it then?”
    Emily comes up behind me. “What’s going on, ladies?”
    “Sage was just about to explain to me what it means to hold down a real job.”
    Sage gets up from her chair, walks over to us, and leans against the counter. “Actually,
     I wasn’t.”
    Emily and I exchange confused glances and then turn our attention back to Sage. I
     can see now there is something more. No matter how far apart we may have grown, I
     can never miss the concern in my friend’s eyes. I decide it’s time to lose the attitude.
     “What’s going on, hon?”
    Sage folds her arms, stares down at her feet. Madonna is ironically singing about
     celebration, something we had for a while there. “It’s not only about the work,” she
     says. “I don’t really want to talk about it. We’re supposed to be having fun, remember?”
    The three of us stand in silence for a moment. We’ve never had this awkward space
     between us before. It feels off and frustrates the hell out of me. I hope I’m not
     the only one who cares. The only one who wants things to be the way they used to be.
     I also don’t enjoy being a hypocrite, knowing I’m keeping my own secret from them.
     “God, this sucks. Why can’t we talk to each other the way we used to?” My tone comes
     out overly exaggerated. I wonder if they can tell I’m not only talking about Sage.
    More silence. Then, finally, Sage says, “It’s about my boss, Christine.”
    Emily and I cross over to her, each standing on one side. “What do you mean?” I say.
    “At the Christmas party, Christine’s husband hit on me.”
    Emily snorts a laugh like old times but quickly stifles it. “Sorry. It’s just so typical
     Sage.”
    “No it’s not,” Sage says sounding offended. “And what’s that supposed to mean anyway?”
    Emily puts an arm around Sage, gives her a squeeze. “It’s just that men have always
     fallen at your feet. That’s all I meant.”
    “I didn’t do anything to encourage him. Honestly. He was drunk, and he followed me
     to a back room when I went to take a call. That asshole came up right behind and put
     his arm around my waist, and I could feel…”
    “Gross!” I shriek.
    “Yeah,” Sage says. “And I was talking to my dad on the phone.”
    “Ew, even grosser,” Emily says.
    We all giggle hesitantly, being careful not to make light of this situation. “So what
     did you do?” I ask, trying to keep things mature.
    “I elbowed him in the gut, not even knowing who was behind me. It was