Painting Sage

by Rachael K Hannah

  “Taxi!” I called out.

  Almost immediately, a speeding yellow car screeched to a stop, backed up, then pulled up to where I stood. Getting in, I quickly turned off my phone, turned my attention to the driver, and smiled.

  “Where to?” the driver asked.

  Yes, if Dad cared, he’d figure it out soon enough.

  “Take me to the zoo.”

  Chapter 9

  Distant Memories Past

  Mike

  “Connor speaking.”

  “Taxi!” My heart hammered furiously against the insides of my chest—louder, sharper, than the snare of my drum set I used to pound away at in the garage of the house I grew up in. I could hear, feel my breaths get heavier and heavier, fists clenched, as I fought with every fiber of my being to stop myself from completely spiraling out of control right then and there on the sidewalk.

  “TAXI!”

  They usually swarmed the streets, but where were they now? Frantically, I searched, my eyes darting left and right, up and down, until I finally saw a single yellow SUV making its way down the street towards a middle-aged tourist couple. They were the kind of New York City visitors who wore matching t-shirts emblazoned with a pic of the Empire State Building. They were the kind of outsiders who wore sandals in the winter, stuffed with heavy white cotton gym socks, and ambled awkwardly around the city. Their necks strained to where the tops of their heads should be, gawking incredulously at every building that stood over ten stories tall. Charging after them without a moment’s hesitation, I slipped in front of them, swung the car door open, and slid right into the cab’s backseat.

  “Excuse me—” the man tried to protest.

  “Sorry!” I turned to his partner, “Ma’am, I have a personal emergency involving my daughter. Teenagers.” Before either one of them could say another word, my hand deftly reached for and opened my wallet in one swift motion, producing two twenty-dollar bills. Shoving them both into her hand, clasping my own over hers, I added, “You’ll get another one on me,” before pulling away entirely and slamming the passenger door shut.

  “Mike, is that you?” I heard Connor say. For a second there, I had forgotten all about calling him on the phone.

  The cabbie just looked at me and shook his head as if to say, typical New Yorker.

  “Well, don’t just stare at me. Go! Go!” I slammed a clenched fist into the seat beside me.

  “Mike?” I heard Connor repeat himself.

  “Yeah, Connor, hold on.”

  Connor kept talking. “I’m really starting to wonder why people feel this need to call me in times of crisis. Maybe it’s something about my face. Do I have one of those faces that make people feel as if they can confide in—”

  “Connor, just hold on for one minute!” I turned my attention back to the driver. “Sir, take me to… oh Jesus, I don’t know where this kid went.”

  “Mike, what’s going on over there? Are you even at work?”

  “HOLD ON, CONNOR!” I shouted. Racking my brain for every bit of information I could possibly remember about Sage and our memories together in the city; I tried to figure out exactly what it was that I wanted to say. “Sir, I’m sorry,” I apologized to the driver. I allowed myself to take a deep breath before continuing, “I’ll tell you what. I have a few places I might have to go to. This may be a while—”

  “Sir, I—”

  “Now just hold on,” I interrupted. I could tell that the cabbie was getting worried that I might be a flake and not worth his time. “I’ll tell you where to go, I’ll hop in and out, and you run the meter. I’ll even pay the fare for you to return to this exact same spot. Please,” I felt the desperation grow within my voice. “Start at Rockefeller Center.”

  The driver nodded brusquely, then took off southbound.

  “Mike? Are you there?”

  I kept forgetting about Connor. “Yeah, I’m still here. I need a favor from you.”

  “Sure… are you all right? What’s going on over there?”

  I sighed heavily. “I lost Sage.”

  “Come again?”

  “I lost Sage. It’s a long story. She was at my job and caught an attitude. She knows about Sheila… She knows everything. I got a little mad. Took my eyes off her for just a minute… and she got up and left.”

  “Can’t you just track her phone?” Connor asked.

  “She turned it off.”

  “Yikes.”

  I fumbled in my pockets for a tissue, napkin, anything that could be used to wipe the building sweat off my forehead. They were completely empty except for my wallet and keys. Not even finding an old candy wrapper, I settled for the back of my hand.

  “She just left. She didn’t say anything to anyone but Jessa—”

  “She met Jessa, too?”

  “Connor, I don’t have time for this.”

  “Okay, let me put you on hold for a moment.”

  There wasn’t a tree, I realized. Sage wouldn’t be at Rockefeller Center at this time because there wasn’t a tree. “Sir, I’m sorry. We’re going to the Museum of Natural History first. No. The zoo. She can’t afford museum admission, and she doesn’t have the patience to just sit on the front steps for an extended period of time.”

  The driver shrugged slightly but nodded, making a turn so that we could change our course northbound.

  “I’m back, Mike,” I heard Connor return to the phone. “What’s Lia doing? Are you two looking for her?”

  “I didn’t tell her,” I said.

  The other end of the line briefly grew uncomfortably silent. That silence was then followed by a well-deserved, “What do you mean, you didn’t tell her?”

  “What am I supposed to do?”

  “I don’t know. Tell the mother of your child that you lost your kid!” Connor exclaimed.

  I rolled my eyes, momentarily realizing that my own rash temperament is probably the rotten sinkhole from which Sage inherited her sass in the first place. “Well, that’s not an option,” I replied.

  “Not an option? Mike, this isn’t a business deal. Right now, telling Julia is the only option.”

  “What’s Julia going to do about it?”

  “Help you look for her?”

  “I don’t know, Connor. Can you think of any place Sage may have gone? Would she look for you? I’m headed for the zoo. Hold on a moment.” I held the phone away from my ear and quickly tried tracking her again. Still nothing. Sighing, I returned to Connor.

  “The zoo. Not Rockefeller Center?”

  “No tree.”

  “Right, no tree… You do realize how not telling Julia is just a terrible idea, don’t you?”

  “I promised Julia I was going to fix this entire mess. I don’t know, man.” I caught a glimpse of myself in the cab’s review mirror and instantly recognized that look of defeat in my eyes. It was depressing. “What if this is beyond fixable?” I asked.

  There was more silence on the other end. If anyone could think rationally and figure this out, it was Connor. Since we were kids, he was always the one to straight shoot and see things for what they are—a voice of reason in the midst of my usual absence of judgment.

  “All right, man, look. This isn’t that serious—yet. She’s a teenager. She knows how to get around the city. If anything, she got mad when she saw Sheila, and—I don’t know—she left to blow off some steam. Sage is probably going to get tired soon—and bored. She’ll go find a cupcake or pudding shop, or whatever these kids are into now, and then she’ll eventually come back to the office. Or, at the very least, she’ll turn on her phone—”

  “You don’t know that—”

  “She’s a teenager with a smartphone. She won’t survive an hour without texting. Trust me.”

  I found myself losing focus, staring out the cab window as Connor’s words circled my mind, slugging it out with thoughts of that worst-case scenario. Finally, I half-heartedly agreed. “I guess.”

  “I’ll be on the lookout for any messages from her. Unless you w
ant me to come up and meet you. It’s insanity here today, but I can break away for an hour if you need me.”

  I nodded and swallowed hard. “She can be anywhere.”

  “She’s not stupid.”

  “Yeah, but look at what happened—”

  “She’s not stupid. Just have a little faith. Look, I’m swamped here, but if you need me to meet you somewhere and help, I’ll do it.”

  Have a little faith… the words echoed throughout the corners of distant memories past. If I had only known then.

  I stared quietly out the passenger window.

  *

  Perry Avenue, Bronx, New York, 1996

  “Hold my hand.”

  “I don’t know. It’s high up there.”

  “Julia, just hold my hand.” My voice softened as I turned to look at her and gently took her hand into my own. It was almost awkwardly comforting to feel the soft grasp of her small and slender fingers enclose my own. Her hand was clammy, marked by a slight chill in sharp contrast to that sticky, almost sweltering summer night. Off in the distance, I could hear children playing, taking in the hot night air. Water still flowed heavily, shot out of busted fire hydrants; someone must have forgotten, or simply neglected, to shut them back off. I clasped Julia’s hand tightly, leading her up the creaky, rickety staircase that ran up the side of our neighbor Pete Callister’s house.

  Julia seemed nervous. “Dad says Pete is kind of a weirdo,” she said. “What if he wakes up—”

  “Pete pulled an all-nighter down at the firehouse. He’s not going to wake up tonight,” I assured her.

  Julia took in a deep breath, her face starting to form into that cute little lopsided frown she’d get right before embarking on a lecture about something stupid or reckless that I was about to do. But, for whatever reason, her would-be scowl seemed to stop itself in its tracks, and she appeared open to what I had to say.

  “Okay,” she agreed hesitantly and continued to follow. I gripped her hand just a little bit tighter to help ease her concern.

  “Have a little faith,” I told her. “The view from his roof is perfect—”

  “Didn’t some kid fall off the roof of that apartment on 205th not too long ago? I heard he’s paralyzed.” Julia paused in her tracks again.

  I had heard about what had happened, too, but also knew a lot of the members of that crowd, and they were trouble. “That was a five-story walk-up, and there were a bunch of kids running around up there,” I said. “They were partying where they shouldn’t be. No one is even going to notice we’re up here. Connor doesn’t even know about this view.”

  “I guess.” Julia frowned, eyes cast downward, tracing the step she stood upon with the toe of her show.

  “Come on, Julia,” I pleaded. “It’s the first full moon of the month. Believe me; this will be worth your time.”

  Finally, she nodded.

  Slowly, silently, we climbed up. It couldn’t have taken more than two minutes, but between Julia’s little gasps interspersed with fearful tugs on my hand, you would have thought we were climbing up the side of some water tower you might find in the middle of nowhere, where life itself remained stagnant, and kids had nothing to do. When we finally reached Pete’s roof, I tried once again to look at Julia reassuringly as I helped her up onto its shoddy surface. Truthfully, I’m surprised she didn’t push me off then and there for being stupid and reckless. The roof looked like it should’ve been replaced ten years earlier, and that was being generous.

  “This looks and feels like it’s going to cave in,” she noted.

  “Shhh.”

  “Don’t shhh me,” Julia snapped. “It looks like if we take five more steps, we’re going to find ourselves crashing into his living room.”

  “Pete’s living room is on the first floor. We’ll crash right into his bedroom or bathroom,” I teased.

  “Mike!” she swatted me swiftly across the shoulder.

  I yelped. “I’m kidding! And don’t swat at me! You wouldn’t want me to fall off this thing, would you? If you’re afraid, we’ll just stand right here. Okay?”

  “Fine. Now where’s this…” her voice trailed off as her round, beautiful brown eyes widened. “Oh, there it is.” Then, transfixed, Julia pointed at a glowing, magnificent, burnt-orange moon that unapologetically claimed ownership over the entire sky. Clouds of pink and purple hazy fog encapsulated it as it seemingly floated endlessly into a deep-blue, not-yet-black sea.

  “I know,” I whispered. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

  She smiled deeply. “It is.” Clasping my hand tighter, she quietly rested her head against the side of my shoulder. She was so small and seemed to get lost in its broad bulkiness. I felt myself smile a little, too.

  “Have a little faith,” I repeated.

  She looked up at me and smirked. “You realize this doesn’t mean I’m admitting to being wrong. Don’t you?”

  “Of course not,” I said.

  “Mike, I’m serious. It really is incredibly stupid and reckless for us to be up here right now.”

  “Of course it is.”

  I quietly let go of her hand and brought her in closer to me for the warmest embrace, our eyes never leaving the sky.

  *

  “You seemed like you were in a bit of trouble back there with that couple,” the driver observed. “You paid that lady for this ride. That can’t be too good.”

  “Yeah.” A bit of trouble was a rather kind way of describing the whole ordeal. On the one hand, I knew Connor was right. On the other… well, I didn’t want to deal with the fallout of another Mike is wrong, and Julia is right scenario—or worse. Maybe it was selfish of me, but I knew what that outcome could possibly bring even if Sage turned up safe, snug as a bug in a rug, as she used to say. With me smack in the middle of another life and residential change, it wasn’t a risk I was ready and willing to take.

  “Are you well, sir?” he asked. It made me wonder: At what point in my life exactly did I become a sir?

  “One of those days where you go over every move you made or didn’t, and really get carried away with analysis,” I explained.

  “We all do what we must.”

  I sighed. “In the business I’m in, I’m surrounded by kids running around with all sorts of fancy degrees who can’t seem to get it together. They’re smart—don’t get me wrong. But they really think the world owes them something. The kids who were raised during the ‘everyone gets a sticker’ era finally grew up, and they’re our main audience. I was too occupied with satisfying them and the business, and wasn’t there for the one person who truly needed me—who, arguably is another ‘everyone gets a sticker’ kid. The thing is: This kid’s mine.”

  My gaze shifted back and forth between the view from my window and my phone. Maybe Connor was right. Julia needed to know. I had unknowingly subjected Sage to a mess with little explanation yet foolishly expected her to take it all in stride. Like any young teenage girl, she was overwhelmed by it. She ran on my watch—probably to teach me a lesson.

  Looking down at the screen silently, I tapped the phone against my knee a few times only to shove it back into my pocket.

  *

  Katonah Avenue, Bronx, New York, 1999

  Her hair smelled faintly of peppermint and lilac. And as if her already lovely honey-colored skin hadn’t looked so soft and sun-kissed before, it now radiated an almost ethereal golden glow. I quickly scribbled those words down on a notepad before I could forget them. It was a habit I was trying to keep up with more—recording the words, the poetry, as they formed in my mind. At that moment, it seemed impossible that anyone could ever be more beautiful, more special than Julia.

  “What are you thinking about?” she asked me in her quietest voice.

  I gazed down at her and couldn’t help but smile. “I keep thinking about this apartment and what it’s going to look like when we finish decorating it—especially now that I have a real grown-up job!”

  Julia’s eyes filled with skepticism as she t
ilted her head slightly to one side. “Since when do you care about decorating? Here I was thinking getting bitten by the mommy bug would just affect me during all this,” she laughed and then pointed cheerfully down toward her tummy.

  It began as a slight tapping against my chest, but then my heart beat harder, more persistently. It was the first time I could ever feel myself growing nervous in front of Julia as small beads of sweat slowly formed on the palms of my tough, callused hands. Yet everything seemed so pleasantly perfect and right at that moment. I cleared my throat.

  “I just thought when Sage comes—”

  “Sage?” Julia interrupted. “When did you come up with that one? We agreed on Kaleigh.”

  “She’s not a Kaleigh,” I insisted. “She’s different.”

  “Really?” she asked, amused, placing a hand on her hip.

  I nodded. “How many Kaleighs or Katies or Shannons can the neighborhood have? Between our friends here and back home?”

  It was true. In a traditional neighborhood where it seemed as if everyone knew one another, it was hard to sometimes stand out from the crowd.

  Julia looked doubtful but not completely turned off by the idea. “Those are all beautiful names, though! I thought you wanted to go in that direction.”

  “Yeah, they are pretty names, I admit, but they’re the same.” I smiled thoughtfully. “And I really want our daughter to be different.”

  She laughed. “But you’re the one who’s always going on and on about how great Norwood is. Woodlawn is. We’re a community.” She pointed to her chest. “I’m the one who never fit in any of these places. You’d think I’d be the one insisting she’d be different!”

  “Yeah, the irony is not lost on me. Believe me. But think about it. If we name her something traditional, she’ll be known as Kaleigh S. or Katie S., and she really should have her own name. I’ve really been thinking about this, Julia.”

  “S?” she asked.