Painting Sage

by Rachael K Hannah

  I shook my head sadly. “I’d like to, but I really don’t think I’m going to make the best company tonight. And I’d like to get a chance to know everyone better.”

  “We’ll all just have to do this another time, won’t we?” Imani smiled.

  I quietly nodded, but before I could say another word, Connor appeared at the doorway. Flashing us both his most charming smile, I knew I was really in for it this time. “So, you two have met. Julia, I have a friend who’s asking about you—”

  “Not tonight, Connor. I’m leaving.”

  The smile never leaving his face, Connor looked over at Imani for an explanation.

  “I think I better give you two a chance to talk,” Imani said politely. “Nice meeting you, Julia. See you soon,” she said before making her way back into the crowd.

  “Julia, you didn’t take a train down here to leave an hour into the party,” Connor began.

  But it was easy for him to say. Connor didn’t have to deal with a third of the responsibilities that I had. “I’m really not feeling this right now, Connor. I shouldn’t have come in the first place.”

  “That is garbage. I’m going to go back in there now, and you’re going to follow me.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Julia, you’re being—”

  “Being what? Because, Connor, really, this isn’t the time.”

  “You deserve to have fun. I keep telling you that. Everyone else I know apparently is.” He paused, as if about to say something, but then quickly retracted and shook his head. “No,” he said definitively. “Now’s not the time.”

  There was something about his tone that didn’t quite sit well with me, and I knew instantly that Connor was holding out. For years, I could read him better than my favorite book, pages yellowed, falling right off the glue binding and all. “What is it?” I asked. “Come out with it.” I folded my arms across my chest and stood there, waiting. There was something he needed to say, and I was going to hear it.

  “Look, I didn’t want to be the one to tell you, but it’s getting obvious that he’s stalling—”

  “He?”

  “Mike.” Connor sighed. “Anyway, Abigail’s done. Spoke to him the other night. He’s moving in with his co-worker, Sheila. He called me to ask if I knew of any good rentals in the area. Julia, look, he kept it from everyone, even me. But Abigail found out. I guess she knew for a while but is now making him choose. So, well, he’s choosing this new person I’ve never even met.”

  I stood for several moments in complete and utter silence, Connor’s unexpected revelation circling deep within the corridors of my already confused mind. Just days ago, Mike and his family had visited Sage. Abigail had even bought my daughter a new book. I couldn’t say I was surprised to learn that he was dogging around, but to actually leave? Leave their family? Unable to say anything, not a single word at all, I turned toward Jordan’s bed and searched frantically for my coat, which lay somewhere underneath the sea of others. Eventually finding it, I wrapped it over my shoulders and pushed past Connor, heading straight out of the bedroom door.

  Connor chased after me.

  “Julia, come on. You can at least take a cab to my place. You shouldn’t take the train back up alone. I probably shouldn’t have said anything, and maybe he’s kept it from you because of everything going on with Sage.”

  “Move out of my way,” I demanded, my voice hoarse and emotionally void.

  “Is this all about what happened earlier at your father’s? Or are you upset about Abigail? Really? Okay, Julia, I shouldn’t have said anything. But, truthfully, I thought you might even be a bit happy. Like, ha! Your marriage failed!”

  I spun around and glared at Connor, wordless.

  “Okay, Lia. That comment was completely unnecessary and wrong. But there’s a lot going on, for everyone. Just forget I even said anything.”

  I turned around and kept moving. “It’s none of my business,” I said over my shoulder. At this point, having zoomed past the entire party, we found ourselves right at the front entrance, or in our case, exit. I let my right hand linger on the knob of the door.

  “Are you really surprised?” Connor asked. “They’re wrong for each other. It’s amazing Abigail lasted this long. I mean she’s so prim and proper, and he’s just a down-to-earth kind of guy. Brilliant, really, but he’s not like her. Besides, when has Mike ever stayed in one place for long? Let’s face it, Lia. This is just what he does.”

  “You are in no position to talk.” I spun around, again, my hand flying off the doorknob. “You haven’t been in an exclusive relationship since… graduate school.”

  Connor threw his hands up in obvious frustration. “How is this about me now?” he demanded.

  Returning to the door, I swung it wide open and stormed off into the hallway.

  “Don’t speak to me,” I snapped, slamming the door behind me.

  Another divorce? Already? He left us, started over, just to go through the whole thing all over again with Sheila?

  I felt the walls closing in all around me as I madly raced down the stairwell of Jordan’s building. Did Sage know? They talked all the time. He didn’t tell Connor, but had he told her? Connor had to have gotten it all mixed up somehow. It couldn’t be true, could it? And if so, what exactly had he left us for, anyway?

  Once I broke free from the building and took my first steps out onto the city sidewalk, I opened my mouth wide and let the cold air plunder the very depths of my lungs. I could finally breathe. There was something about the city’s chill that night that managed to help clear my head. I took a few moments to steady myself before deciding to head back home.

  It wasn’t long before the night’s first snowflakes began to fall, and I instantly regretted taking a chance on those shoes. As I ambled my way up a few blocks north, I watched the winter city with complete captivation. Luckily, I had come somewhat prepared, and I reached into my tote to pull out some necessary winter accessories and make just a few needed adjustments. With a heavy wool scarf, I wrapped almost my entire face. Then I stuffed my hands into gloves and pulled a matching wool hat over my head so that it rested just a little over my eyes.

  I distantly watched the night come to life before me. People didn’t just walk by; they floated. Their laughter was smooth music, a series of falling and rising harmonies that I couldn’t quite let escape from my mind. They hailed taxis. They ducked into apartments, stores, subway stations. They moved forward, unbending, giving not the slightest indication of awareness that others, too, were moving along the same path. My hands were shoved deeply into my pockets for just a little extra warmth. My feet wobbled along the sidewalk, struggling to move forward in those heels as the snow fell heavily and without apology.

  But still, I watched life unfold, without me, as I teetered up each block with quiet fascination. My steps became more unsteady, cumbersome, and for a moment, I was tempted to turn back. But I didn’t. I wanted to keep walking, for no other reason than I wanted to see life.

  I finally made it to the subway station.

  It was a quick ride up, but I already knew it would be another half-hour wait before the Harlem Line’s departure, so I mentally prepared myself for a long and tired ride home. By the time I navigated the passageways and found myself deep in the heart of Grand Central Terminal, I felt overcome by exhaustion and hunger. The thought of going barefoot suddenly became very appealing, but I fought the urge as I inched my way downstairs, the need to climb into a warm bed at home serving as my only motivation.

  The strange part was that even though I traveled to and worked in the city almost every day, that night I found myself thinking about the family trips the three of us would take into the city every year when Sage was just a little girl. During her first five winters, Mike and I had brought Sage down to Rockefeller Center to see the big tree. Now, as a teenager, that tree during wintertime was Sage’s favorite place. But back then, when she was around four, for whatever reason, she always seemed more interes
ted in the hot dog vendors instead. Sage would point one of her chubby fingers at any man stationed by a street cart. Hot doggie! She’d cry, clapping her hands together in absolute glee.

  I don’t know why the memory suddenly came to me, there on my way to the track headed for Bronxville, but it made me smile. Glancing at my watch, I saw that I was still a bit too early, so I decided to walk over and wait in line for one of my favorite cupcakes.

  The employees worked very quickly, and soon I was at the front of the line. “I’ll take vanilla with, I guess,” I glanced quickly over their selections, “blue frosting.”

  “Make that two.”

  Connor’s hand reached over my shoulder and handed the cashier a twenty-dollar bill. I looked up at him in silence, but by that point, I was just too tired to protest or ask questions. So, I accepted his help.

  “What? I got hungry.” He shrugged. “Jesus, Lia, you walk fast.”

  I shook my head slowly, still in a bit of disbelief. “I can’t even, Connor,” I said.

  “What can I say? Gotta eat my cupcake.” Then he sank his teeth deeply into his sugary treat, practically annihilating the whole thing in one bite. “But all joking aside, yes, I did follow you up here, but because you were upset, and I didn’t think you should be alone.”

  “Oh, so that’s it?”

  “I’ll walk away if you want me to and head back to the platform. Look, I understand if you don’t want to see me right now. I just thought you could use the support—or at least know it’s there.”

  I shook my head silently and made my way over to a table, sitting down and giving my feet much-needed relief. I picked at my cupcake and ate slowly. Was Connor right? Had I somehow gotten so overwhelmed by life that I had forgotten to live? Why was it so easy for some people? And why did I always seem to push help away?

  I motioned over to him, nodding that it was okay, and without a word, Connor joined me. We sat there for quite some time. As I waited for it to get closer to my train’s departure time, not a single utterance was exchanged between us. No, I didn’t want to talk about it, but I also knew I couldn’t do it alone either.

  And so, together in silence, we watched as people passed us by—the world, really, when you thought about it.

  Chapter 7

  On Standby

  Sage

  “Don’t listen to her, Sage. She’s just trying to get into your head.”

  It was my first day back—at Dayton Academy, that is.

  And it wasn’t going well for me.

  It started with a slight tremble. But then it grew… until my hand clenched itself into an impenetrable fist. And then the fist started shaking. And my teeth… my teeth bit right down into the tender flesh of my lower lip—hard. I couldn’t speak, not a single word. All I could feel was pure rage as it forcefully invaded my entire being… I was lost in it, and nothing could bring me back from its clutches.

  “Sage?” I heard my friend Katie’s voice become lower, dimmer, like a distant echo lost in a tunnel. “Sage,” she repeated more urgently. “We have to tell someone now. They can’t get away with this.” She tapped at my shoulder and then shook at it slightly, but I was too focused—too lost in the storm—to even acknowledge that Katie was there.

  My fist kept shaking as I stood there, smack in the middle of Dayton Academy’s cafeteria, and already there was trouble to be had. I hadn’t even managed to get through a full day of classes without a single instance of drama to contend with.

  Where were you…

  I heard she…

  No way…

  I thought she transferred but then got kicked out of the new…

  No matter where I turned, their whispers followed. The stares, every time I stepped into a classroom, were bad enough. But the whispers? I had barely gotten a chance to even finish my lunch in peace before the vultures swarmed in all around me, hoping to feast gloriously on my remains.

  I looked up into the malicious eyes of Taylor Henderson—the apparent leader of the pack—as they met my own with what could only be described as bitter hatred. I didn’t know what I had done to warrant her wrath, but her lips were twisted into a warped, mean scowl as she tauntingly dangled her cell phone just inches from my face. Her cluster of friends—minions, really— gathered around us, smug, nearly salivating with cruel anticipation. I barely knew any of these girls on a personal level, and at that moment, I couldn’t understand what it was about me that fueled such vindictive cruelty from any one of them. As their circle tightened around us, I felt weak, faint, dizzy even. But I didn’t dare to look away. No one was about to make me stand down—no one.

  “What’s wrong, Katie? Sad you didn’t get a friend request?” Taylor first went after Katie, probably viewing her as a weaker target. Taylor then turned to her friends, her face beaming with insufferable self-satisfaction. “Oh… you’re going to cry now, aren’t you?” she taunted with almost sadistic pleasure as she returned her attention to Katie. Taylor’s finger slowly scrolled down her cell phone’s screen, which she still held just inches from my face. “Well, now. Let’s take a look at some of these comments posted on Sage’s—”

  Katie sprang into action, truthfully surprising us both. “You can’t just take a random photo of someone without them knowing and then create a fake social media page, Taylor. You know it’s wrong—”

  “This comment says,” Taylor spoke over Katie’s protest, “‘Sage Sloane has officially been let loose from the mental ward. Time for the school to call a lockdown—’”

  “Don’t you dare, Taylor. You’re the one who’s sick. That kind of joke’s not funny at all. Just shut up and take that stupid page down,” Katie forcefully demanded.

  By that point, more and more students’ interest had been piqued, and almost everyone in the cafeteria was watching us. The other kids knew enough not to gather around and spark the attention of any adult on duty, but there was no doubt that from where they sat, they were watching. My chest tightened as I sensed their cold, probing stares, examining me and waiting for my reaction. I shut my eyes, and for a moment, I thought I could actually feel the color drain from my cheeks. Then I heard it again—the whispers—everywhere. They didn’t know me. They couldn’t judge me. So why were they trying?

  Unfazed by Katie’s protests, and with a maniacal grin plastered on her plastic surgery-enhanced face, Taylor continued to scroll down the screen on her phone. “Oh, why here’s another post,” she chirped cheerfully and loud enough for everyone to hear. “Wow, Sage. You’re really getting a lot of attention… so many followers today.”

  I remained silent.

  “What is wrong with you, Taylor? We never did anything to you.” Katie tugged on my arm. “Come on. Let’s go. You don’t need to listen to this. We need to tell administration. Now!”

  “This post is my absolute favorite,” Taylor declared. She cleared her throat dramatically and waited just a bit for all the whispers to gradually subside. When Taylor knew that she had everyone’s attention, she continued: “‘To Sage Sloane, so sorry to hear about all your troubles. Hope you have better luck killing yourself next time!’”

  Everyone stood still, waiting. How could the adults not even notice?

  “Sage, let’s just go…” Katie’s voice weakened, barely a whisper. “We need to tell a teacher—someone—they can’t get away with this. It’s not right.”

  But it was too late to tell a teacher; it was too late for reason. Exactly what more could I do when such definitive lines had been drawn in the sand? Practically the whole sophomore class was watching me then, and I knew that I couldn’t show them weakness. That’s when something profound inside of me just snapped.

  In one sudden, wild, and unpredictable motion, I swung my arm with all my might against the tightly clenched hand in which Taylor held her cell phone. The force of my swing knocked Taylor’s phone right out of her grip and propelled it almost the entire width of the cafeteria. Then it slammed against the cafeteria floor. By some stroke of luck, it landed
face down, and I could hear a few satisfying cracks as its screen shattered—hopefully to pieces. Frightened by the intensity of my own unexpected strength, I stood there in silence, motionless, utterly shocked by what I had done. My mouth falling open, I looked over at what was left of the phone, up at Katie, and then back at the surrounding crowd. No one uttered a sound or made a single movement. Time momentarily stood still.

  Then it happened: A wild shriek, like that of a wounded animal, emanated forth from the depths of Taylor’s lungs. It was like a dark cloud encompassing her entire being, its vicious vortex of rage headed straight for me… and I got scared. Searching the crowd frantically for an empathetic bystander, a friend—anyone—I found no one. Even Katie’s burst of courage had disappeared; she looked positively terrified. Three teachers had finally noticed us and were quickly headed in our direction; their eyes fixated angrily on me.

  I had to think fast. I couldn’t show weakness. It was either Taylor or me. But the teachers were getting closer, and I knew instinctively how Taylor would try to play it. All the teachers would see was the broken cell phone, Taylor crying, and they’d blame me. The writing was already on the wall. I was finished before the interrogation had even started.

  But if my ship would undoubtedly sink, I was taking everyone down with me.

  And that’s how my fist found its way… into the center of Taylor Henderson’s face.

  *

  It was Dad’s weekend.

  As I lay exhausted, curled up in my Connecticut bed, all I could think about was that final afternoon at Dayton Academy in Dr. Reardon’s office. Green hair dye was one thing. Even cutting school didn’t amount to that much, except for a few detentions. But the school had never called Dad before. He barely looked at me that afternoon when he came to my school. In fact, he almost seemed distant and distracted. It was like his mind was wholly consumed elsewhere.

  Dad had stormed into the main office, simultaneously fighting on his phone with Abby. It was a totally irrelevant argument—something about Miles and Finn’s nanny. Honestly, I never really understood why Abby needed a nanny in the first place. It’s not like she worked outside the house. Anyway, he was so heated. I could tell that his anger was fueled by far more than trouble with domestic help.