The Importance of Being Dangerous

by David Dante Troutt

  They waited at the gate to board the final leg. Griff turned to her once the line of first-class passengers began moving forward. They stood together near the window, the nose of the plane just outside the pane. Griff lifted the wide straw brim of her new hat so he could see both her eyes. “I’m afraid we’re not sitting together for this flight, Sid.”

  She shrugged. “I figured as much. That’s okay. It’s a short enough flight.”

  “I’m in the front. Unfortunately, you’re back near the bathrooms.”

  “I’ll survive,” she said.

  “I know you will. Listen, I, uh, want you to know how you’ve changed my life.”

  “C’mon, Griff. There’s plenty of time for that.” She squeezed him against her hips and touched his face. Griff let out a little surprised gasp, and his whole body tensed with unexpected delight.

  “Sidarra?”

  “Yes, baby?”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  “Please don’t forget what I told you on the balcony.”

  “That I’m loved?”

  “Yes.”

  “You think just because you say it it’s true?”

  He smiled. “Yup.” He kissed her slowly and softly. “I’ll meet you by the baggage claim.”

  They hugged. Her row was called, she blew him one last kiss and walked onto the plane alone.

  You cannot hear sirens on the ground from a plane approaching a gate, but Sidarra still thought she did when they had landed in New York. She stood with the other passengers in the rear, waiting the interminable wait for the passengers up front to deplane. People all around her sighed hot, irritated breaths in her face, and she had to sit back down. Why Griff wanted to meet by the baggage claim when neither of them had any baggage was another question she would put to his know-it-all ass as soon as she relieved herself of the agitated arms and bodies around her. They waited and waited. the loudspeaker began to cackle overhead.

  “I’m sorry, folks, but this is your captain speaking,” it said. “The rest of you are being held up here at the gate while there’s a police investigation going on. It should be just another few minutes or so. We appreciate your patience.”

  At that point Sidarra almost lost her mind. She immediately began to tremble with fear, and the first face she saw in her head was Raquel’s. The panic was overwhelming. She looked around for a way to get out, but there were tightly packed bodies everywhere. She stood in a fret. The second face she saw in her mind was Griff’s. Oh no! she almost said aloud, but something made her stop. She quieted herself. She tried to vanish from people’s suspicious eyes. A few minutes later, and at last they were all moving again.

  “Thank you. Hope to see you again soon,” the captain and flight attendants told her as she deplaned, as if nothing were amiss.

  Sidarra stepped cautiously up the ramp into the terminal. She lowered the wide straw brim over her shaded eyes, walked with a slight hunch, and gripped her bag for all it was worth. Once she was well inside the terminal, she sidestepped crowds of reuniting families and curious onlookers. There ahead in the long corridor was Griff, his back to her, his arms spread wide like a bird in flight, a circle of blue-uniformed police officers and airport security surrounding him. She got behind a black family and matched their strides. Sidarra kept her head down as she passed. She heard the steel cuffs snap shut and caught just a glimpse of Griff with his head thrown back and his eyes closed in a rare and powerful silence.

  “You have the right to remain…Anything you say may be used against you…”

  She quickened her pace once she got a few feet ahead of them. She wanted to run. The youngest kid in the black family launched into a tantrum. His parents tried to pull him away, but he wanted to see what was happening to the man with his arms out.

  “Are they gonna shoot him?” the boy asked his father.

  Sidarra hustled to a slow jog and disappeared down the corridor. When she got outside to the taxi stand, she cut the line. New Yorkers cursed her as she handed the man directing cabs a twenty-dollar bill. She hopped in the taxi, slammed the door, and said, “Go! Upper Manhattan. Please go! I gotta go now!”

  Inside the cab, safe for a minute on the Van Wyck Expressway, she fumbled for her cell phone. Her fingers were trembling so badly she dropped the phone. It wasn’t on. She turned it on. It took forever to light up. When it did, the clock read 4:47. She dialed her home number. It rang and rang. Finally Aunt Chickie answered.

  “It’s me. Has anyone been to the house today?” she asked.

  “No. What’s the matter, Sidarra? Are you all right?”

  “Is Raquel with you?”

  “Yeah, she’s right here. I’ll put her on.”

  “Mommy?”

  “Yes, sweetheart. It’s Mommy. I’m back. I’m safe. I want you to go to your room. Don’t ask me any questions now. It’s very important. I want you to pretend we’re in a movie.”

  “What kind of movie?”

  Sidarra was stumped. “Um, a James Bond movie, okay? Now, first I want you to think about everything you got in there that you really, really want to have with you for a while. Get a suitcase and put it all in it. We’re gonna take a really cool trip. When you’re finished, I want you to sit on the suitcase and think, What have I forgot? Then I want you to go pack that too. But only enough to fit into one big suitcase. You can go into my closet and get one of mine. The Louis Vuitton bags. The biggest one you can find, okay?”

  “Cool!”

  “Good. Then, when you’re finished, I want you to go to the kitchen and get the kennel box, the one we took the cat in when she had to go to the vet. Get it and get her. Put Pussy Galore in the cat box and wait for me. We’re gonna take a trip. It’s gonna be more fun than you’ve ever had, okay?”

  “Okay!”

  “Now, put your aunt back on the phone. And, Raquel, hurry!”

  “What are you telling this girl, Sidarra? She’s bouncing like a jitterbug.”

  “Aunt Chickie, I can’t get into it over the phone. There’s been a problem. Don’t say anything out loud to scare Raquel. There’s a guy. He might be stalking the house. We have to get out.”

  “Oh, Sidarra.”

  “Look, damnit! I’m not playing and I don’t need any ‘Oh, Sidarra’s.’ This shit is serious!”

  There was a pause. “I’m sure you’ll explain that one to me when I see you.”

  “I’m sorry. I will. But right now I need you to pack your most favorite things. What you can’t fit into a couple of suitcases, try to pack into something else, and I’ll arrange to have them picked up later. I know this sounds crazy. I know it’s not fair. But just trust me right now. This guy is dangerous. We’ll sort it all out soon. I’m on my way.”

  There was another long pause. “Okay. I’ll do the best I can.”

  “Thank you, Aunt Chickie. Thank you. I gotta go now. Whatever you do, do not answer the door, and keep the lights off in the front of the house until I get there.”

  Aunt Chickie sighed. Sidarra could imagine the look she was giving the phone. “So much drama all the time, geez. You know, Sidarra, when we get a moment, I’d like to talk to you about the men in your life. Meantime, is there anything we should get for you?”

  Sidarra thought for a second. “No. No, I’m okay. Just take care of yourselves and I’ll be right there. Goodbye. Now, hang up and don’t answer the phone again till you see me.”

  Sidarra hung up only to see the cabdriver’s eyes bulging at her in the rearview mirror. “Just drive, please,” she said as politely as she could. “I, uh, have an abusive ex-boyfriend. There’s an order of protection out for him.”

  The man nodded. “I hope they get the guy,” he said in a thick Middle Eastern accent. “They should cut off his balls!”

  “Thank you, sir. Please, just drive as fast as you can. I’ll be all right.”

  The driver muttered curses the whole rest of the way across the Triborough Bridge and onto the 138th Street bridge
over the Harlem River. He raced like a professional, and they were in front of the garage where Sidarra had parked her Mercedes in about eleven minutes.

  “No charge, lady. But please, get yourself a gun, okay? The Glock is good. I have one.”

  “That’s very kind of you, sir. You’re probably right.”

  “Pow pow!” he said. “Beautiful lady like you should not be running.”

  Sidarra ran up to the third floor of the parking garage and got into her car. She circled her block three times and finally double-parked in front of her brownstone. She raced up the stairs, realized she’d left the car running, ran back for the keys, and bolted into the house. “I’m home!” she screamed. Raquel came to the top of the stairs to greet her. Sidarra flew up and nearly tackled her, smothered her in wet kisses, and grabbed her up in one arm like Hercules. Raquel tried to protest and get down. She wanted to explain all that she had done already, including packing the cat and some of Sidarra’s most precious things, but Sidarra wouldn’t put her down. Instead, Sidarra listened and asked questions as she roamed frantically from room to room with the not-so-little girl hanging from her clenched bicep. Sidarra was ten minutes into packing up her own stuff and ready to move to the third floor when Aunt Chickie finally made it up the stairs.

  “Sit down, Sidarra,” she ordered.

  “I can’t, Aunt Chickie.”

  “Oh yes you can.”

  Sidarra finally stopped. She stood with Raquel still a few inches sideways off the floor and looked at her aunt, who absolutely was not playing. It struck her then. She could not breathe. She hadn’t breathed since she got out of the cab. Raquel drifted slowly down to her feet. Aunt Chickie walked carefully to the banister and leaned back, staring suspiciously at her niece. “We can’t stop till we go,” Sidarra explained.

  “I don’t go like that. I’m a little too old for escapes. You wanna tell me what’s going on?”

  Sidarra looked around helplessly. She clenched her fingers and wiped sweat off her brow. “Okay. But quickly. Raquel, please go upstairs and put Grandma and Grandpa’s shrine in a careful pile. That’s coming too. Don’t touch the photographs. I’ll get the photographs.” Only too glad to be part of the mad dash, Raquel raced upstairs with energy nobody else in the house could match. When they had both watched her skinny legs make it to the top of the stairs, Sidarra returned her aunt’s powerful gaze. “I know this contradicts some of the good things you might have thought about me, Aunt Chickie. I know I seem wild. I want to explain it all to you. But right now, I want us all to be safe, and I think I know how to do it. So, please?”

  Aunt Chickie washed her face with her hand. She began at the cheek and slowly moved it down her supple jowl and around her chin to her neck, where it rested in the gentle skin for a minute. “Baby, this is not how we do it. Let me try to help you.”

  Sidarra stared at her, first angrily for slowing things down, then desperately, and finally Sidarra’s bottom lip began to quiver. Her eyes welled up with tears that soon streamed down her face. “I fucked up,” she cried. “I fucked up, Aunt Chickie. It’s a dangerous situation for all of us, okay? And I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I’m sorry to do this to you.”

  Aunt Chickie raced over to her as quickly as her body could manage and wrapped her arms around Sidarra’s neck. “I’m here. What is it, baby? I’m here.”

  “I’m in trouble. I took advantage. I could lose you all,” she cried. “We have to go. I need you, Aunt Chickie. We have to get out. We have to get away. Far away.”

  “Yes, yes,” Aunt Chickie cooed, stroking the back of Sidarra’s head. “It’s gonna be all right. Let Aunt Chickie know. Calm down. You’re hysterical. Slow down. Tell me about it, and we’ll get through it.”

  “No, sweetie, this isn’t like that,” Sidarra wept, and pulled back enough to look her aunt in the eye. “They could come at any minute. I did something wrong, Aunt Chickie. I could go to jail!”

  That did it. Aunt Chickie’s expression changed all of a sudden. Her own eyes glassed up, and she searched Sidarra’s face for exaggeration, but found none. She wiped Sidarra’s tears away, but more just fell in their place. “I need you to concentrate, Sidarra. The baby’s upstairs. You two are all I got. Now, tell me this: Do we really have to go? Right this minute? Do we?” she demanded.

  Sidarra tried to hold her gaze. Her legs felt limp and she wanted to drop into her aunt’s arms. Her lips quivered and tears streaked all over her face. “Yes. Please believe me. They already have the others. We have to go, Aunt Chickie. Please. I can’t lose my child!”

  Aunt Chickie shook Sidarra about the shoulders with a force she had not possessed in many years. “Okay, Sidarra! Okay. Then we’ll go. C’mon now. I’ll finish getting my things. You get yours. This is the time. We’ll go.”

  “Thank you. Thank you,” she cried.

  “No. Thank me later. If you say we must go, then let’s go. C’mon. Go!”

  Sidarra sprang back into action. She turned and hurdled up the stairs to find Raquel. She helped her finish gathering the shrine and collected all the pictures. She found a box in a closet and threw all the things in it, trying to remember to get all the photos, hats, shoes, scarves, and CDs they might need. She found another box and threw a hundred small items in it that Darrius might not be able to find for her. Then she checked to make sure Raquel could handle the weight and told her to carry the things down to the vestibule so they could put them in the trunk of the car.

  Finally she had to make the rounds of her own clothes and other items on the second floor. Raquel had done a hell of a job putting things into a few suitcases. Sidarra tried to make a mental picture of the trunk space, and so far everything seemed to fit. Raquel swore that she had everything she might need. Sidarra ordered her back up to see if there were other things in the house she might need for a really, really long vacation. Then Sidarra went to her bedroom and started putting her very best clothes, shoes, and some jewelry in a silver box she’d saved from Bergdorf Goodman’s. It even had a small latch, and when it was full, she closed it. Next, she went to a drawer and pulled out her special jewelry. There was the gem-studded tiara Yakoob had so foolishly bought her for her fortieth birthday. She wrapped that in a scarf and tried to fit it in her coat pocket. It barely fit. She wormed her hand down to the bottom of the pocket, tossed away some napkins she’d hidden there along with a few idle pieces of crumpled paper, and found Michael’s ring. She pulled that out and tried it on her finger. It fit perfectly. She stuffed the tiara in the empty pocket. Then she went to her bathroom closet, pulled back a makeup mirror, and retrieved $85,000 in cash from a box. She stuffed the money into several boxes. Nothing else remained. She looked around, trying to calm herself so she could think twice about things she might regret leaving behind. She pulled a mascara pen off the dressing table and put an X on the silver Bergdorf bag. Everything else was either in her pockets or stowed in the suitcases Raquel had mostly packed. She pushed them all down the stairs, ran after them, grabbed her family, and set the alarm. Sidarra paused for a moment and noticed that the huge mirror in the front hall had been neglected, it was covered in dust, and she almost thought to clean it. Then she saw her reflection, a resolute expression of pure craziness taunting her, and moved quickly out of the frame. She turned off the lights, locked the door, and headed down the stoop to help load the Mercedes.

  “Where are we going, Bond? James Bond,” Raquel asked as her mother tried to stuff the trunk with their life.

  “Oh, I thought we’d visit your uncle for a while,” Sidarra said.

  “Goody! Can I sit in the front?” Raquel asked.

  “Most definitely. I need a good copilot.”

  With the doors shut and no cars behind them, Sidarra, Raquel, Aunt Chickie, and Pussy Galore took off into the long July sunset. Sidarra drove around and around before settling onto the West Side Highway heading south.

  While Raquel sang songs quietly to herself, Sidarra and Aunt Chickie remained mostly silent in their own
heads. Sidarra finally pulled the car off at Chambers Street and headed east toward the Brooklyn Bridge. The early Sunday evening traffic was moving well enough, but not too fast, just as she wanted. Crossing the bridge, she was just another car. On the other side, she drove down Adams as usual and pulled up by the side entrance to her office at the Board of Miseducation.

  “This is where your mommy used to work,” she told Raquel. “I’ll be right back,” she told Aunt Chickie, and left the engine running. Sidarra then used her key to get in the side entrance, waved to the guard, and went upstairs. When she got to her floor, she went through her drawers and pulled out any personal information. So many idle years left few things of value. She grabbed up pictures, a few pens, and some stationery just in case. Then she logged on to her computer and sent a quick memo to everyone in her unit saying there had been a death in her family and that she would be taking an indefinite leave of absence. She listed a few important document numbers of things she had been working on since becoming a deputy and logged off. The next part was the hardest, and she took a long breath. She needed to create the impression of confusion in the administrative record. She needed to look like a victim and disappear from the file. Her name and employee record had to go. This moment and almost two decades would vanish with a few simple keystrokes: Control-86 Transfer Command.

  Next, Sidarra tiptoed down the hall to the back stairs and went up to the chancellor’s floor, her new floor, if only she had waited for her new executive office to be cleaned out. She was surprised to find Dr. Blackwell’s office door unlocked. Sidarra feared turning on the light and instead walked carefully in the dark to the big leather chair behind the grand old desk. There she pulled from her pocket the gem-studded tiara Yakoob had given her and placed it carefully in the middle drawer of the desk. Then she made her way back downstairs, past the guard, who was covered in the sports pages, and left the building for the last time. Eight minutes later, she was on the Verrazano Bridge, speeding toward New Jersey.