Uncle Alexis was a little taller than my father and did have a stately and imposing posture, offering his hand with the august manner of someone imperial, almost pompous. Aunt Suzume was barely five feet tall, with exquisite facial features and a pearl-like sheen to her complexion. It was a face that looked lifted off a delicate, flawless cameo pin, and yet, despite her diminutive size, she, too, seemed to have been brought here in a royal horse-drawn carriage.
Of course, I understood that older relatives were supposed to enjoy some veneration and honor because of their age or wisdom or successful lives of which the family could be proud. Unlike most of my classmates, I had no grandparents who could visit and leave behind some pearls of wisdom that would help guide me to a more successful life. That was the way it should be. Sometimes I had the sense that it once was true for me. It was simply another inexplicable memory of things past, a memory better kept to myself.
“Well, now,” Uncle Alexis said when I was introduced to him, “so this is the wonder girl who has captured everyone’s attention.”
I looked at my father. Wonder girl? Captured everyone’s attention? Except for Uncle Wade, whose attention did I capture? My parents weren’t treating me like some wonder girl. What was I missing?
“She’s very, very beautiful,” Aunt Suzume said, smiling at me. “No one exaggerated about her.”
Again, I was surprised. When were all these wonderful things said about me, and by whom?
My father took their coats and led everyone into the living room. Uncle Alexis was wearing a dark blue suit and a light blue tie. Aunt Suzume was in a navy-blue sleeveless lace sheath dress. Although there were strands of gray in it, Uncle Alexis had a full, thick head of hair, brushed back but not as trimmed as I would imagine someone of his age should have his hair. Aunt Suzume’s ebony-black hair was pinned in a French knot. She wore the most interesting gold teardrop earrings. They seemed to pick up a bluish tint when she crossed the room. She wore a gold watch and a white gold wedding ring with diamond specks that looked like they were baked into it.
They sat together on the settee, not an inch apart. Mother brought them each a glass of her homemade elderberry wine and set a bowl of mixed nuts on the table. Dad sat in his favorite chair, and I sat on the matching settee facing my great-uncle and great-aunt. For a moment, no one spoke. They were studying me so intensely that I shifted uncomfortably and looked at my father.
I was expecting to hear them talk about old relatives and family memories, but it was as if they had seen each other frequently and not years and years ago the way my father had described. It was quickly apparent to me that they were not interested in my parents and what they had done since they had seen them. All their attention was focused on me. Why?
“You’re in the school chorus, we understand,” Uncle Alexis began, after taking a sip of his wine.
“Yes.”
“What instruments do you play?” Aunt Suzume asked.
“I don’t play any,” I said.
They didn’t look like they believed me. They glanced at my parents for confirmation. I looked at them as well.
“She doesn’t play the piano?” Aunt Suzume asked my mother.
“No. Not yet,” she said.
Not yet? Years ago, when I was only six, we had dinner at the Blacks’ house. There was a piano in the den, and while everyone was talking in the living room, I wandered in, sat at it, and began to play. Moments later, everyone was in the den watching and listening to me. It was a while before I realized they were all standing behind me, but as soon as I did, I stopped. Then Samuel and Cissy Black applauded, but my parents didn’t.
“How long has she been taking lessons?” Mrs. Black asked.
“She hasn’t,” my father said. “Ever.”
“Well, she has a natural ear for it. I’ve heard of that,” Mr. Black said. “You should think about having her study with someone. You might have a musical genius on your hands.”
My mother indicated that I should get up quickly and come to her. We went to the dining room, and nothing more was said about it until we got home, and my mother seized me by the shoulders in the entryway and told me never to do that again. I was not to play anyone’s piano. If they wanted me to study piano, they would arrange for it when I was older, but they never did, and I never sat at one and played again.
“The piano?” Uncle Alexis asked my father now. He shook his head. “That was a little bit too much caution, don’t you think?”
“We had reason, if you’ll recall,” my mother said.
Caution? About what?
Uncle Alexis nodded, sipped some more wine, and turned back to me. “Tell us more about yourself, Sage. What are your favorite subjects in school?”
“I suppose English, history. I do enjoy being in the chorus. Actually, I like math and science very much, too.”
He smiled. “Your thirst for knowledge knows no bounds,” he said. He looked at Aunt Suzume, and she smiled.
“Do you still have dreams about people and places you’ve never seen?” she asked.
I looked at my mother and then at my father. I couldn’t help it. I felt as if I had somehow been betrayed. Ever since I had been sent to a therapist, those things were never discussed, certainly never with anyone outside of our small circle, which only included Uncle Wade.
“Tell them the truth,” my father said sternly. For the first time, I wondered if they were really who my parents told me they were.
“Yes, that happens occasionally,” I replied, “but I don’t speak about it to anyone.” I looked at my parents. Was this the answer they had hoped to hear?
“And these strange memories, they are usually about people being punished, burned at the stake, stoned, whipped, things like that?” Uncle Alexis asked.
“Not just that sort of thing, no. I remember being at ocean shores, riding in horse-drawn sleighs, being at prayer events with lots of candles and chanting. Things like that,” I said. “I could go on and on about it.” They wanted me to talk? All right, I’d talk. They’d be sorry.
Uncle Alexis smiled. “That’s not necessary, dear. We also understand that you are in the prognostication business, a modern-day soothsayer.”
“I promised my mother I wouldn’t do that anymore.”
“But you were successful as a prophet?” Aunt Suzume asked.
“Maybe not all the time,” I said.
“We understand why your mother might be a little nervous about such things, but you need not be ashamed of anything with us,” Uncle Alexis said. He had finished his wine. My father rose quickly to pour him another glassful. “Thank you, Mark. Your uncle Wade thinks you are quite an extraordinary young lady,” he continued.
“I’m very fond of Uncle Wade. I’m sure he exaggerates a little,” I added.
Uncle Alexis widened and softened his smile.
“Modesty. That’s good,” he said. He looked at my mother, who shifted as if she was uncomfortable. “And you have excellent school grades and have never gotten into trouble at school or outside of school?”
“Maybe I haven’t had enough opportunity,” I replied.
For a moment, I thought my father and mother would tell me to go to my room or something. They looked as displeased as they used to when I said things that embarrassed them in front of their friends during my younger days.
“What do you mean?” Aunt Suzume asked.
“I haven’t gone out much. I’ve been to a party, and I’ve met some friends, but I really haven’t done all that much socializing.”
Uncle Alexis nodded. “Your parents have been careful. That’s not a bad thing.”
I didn’t reply. Why weren’t they changing the subject? Why was it all about me? “Where do you live, Uncle Alexis?” I asked, hoping to change the subject myself.
“Oh, we’re in transit at the moment. We’ve lived abroad for many years, but we’re thinking about returning to Boston. Wherever we are, we hope you’ll come visit.”
“Of course I woul
d,” I said. I wanted to add that I would go anywhere since I hadn’t been anywhere. “What did you do as a profession?” I asked. I wanted to make it clear that I was told little or nothing about him or my great-aunt.
“I was a doctor, a therapist,” he replied.
“A very, very successful one,” my father added.
I almost asked him why he hadn’t sent me to see him years ago, but Uncle Alexis quickly added that this was when he was living abroad.
“And you had no children?” I asked. I knew my mother wouldn’t want me to be so direct and inquisitive, but Uncle Alexis didn’t seem to mind.
He smiled, in fact. “I’ve had many children,” he said. “All clients. I specialized in child psychology.”
“But—”
“No. We were married late in life, and we didn’t have any children of our own,” he said.
I caught a movement in Aunt Suzume’s face, the way her eyes looked down. They weren’t telling me the truth, but I would never dare say it.
“Your great-aunt Suzume was a well-known opera singer in Japan in her youth,” Uncle Alexis said. “She was very dedicated. It took a great deal of persuasion to get her to think of me with as much passion.”
Everyone smiled. Aunt Suzume looked a little embarrassed, suddenly like a little girl to me. I could hear her singing.
“I need to get to our lunch preparations,” my mother said. She rose and looked at me, and I rose, too.
“I will help,” Aunt Suzume said, but my mother wouldn’t hear of it.
“We’re fine. You enjoy your visit with Mark,” she insisted.
Aunt Suzume didn’t put up any argument. She nodded, and then my mother and I left to go to the kitchen. The others retreated to my father’s office. I heard them go in and close the door.
My mother worked silently. I could see she was in deep thought.
“I like them,” I told her.
She looked at me as though I had no right to say it. Then her face softened, and she nodded. “Of course you do,” she said.
I began to bring things out to the dining-room table. I thought I heard what sounded like chanting coming from my father’s office. I started toward it, but my mother called to me, and I returned to the kitchen. This time, when I brought something to the dining room, there was no sound coming from my father’s office.
There was a change when we all sat at the table. I was relieved that the conversation was no longer centered around me. Uncle Alexis described some of the places they had been and talked about connecting with old friends. I was surprised at how many my father remembered or knew. Both Uncle Alexis and Aunt Suzume raved about my mother’s cooking and especially about the mincemeat pie.
“I haven’t had it so good for a very long time,” Uncle Alexis said. And then he put down his knife and fork and leaned forward toward me, looking suddenly very hard and serious. He spoke as if we were in the middle of a sentence, a sentence that had been hanging in the air just waiting to be brought back to our ears. “And all these predictions you have made and you say you no longer make, were any meant to hurt someone, to make them sad or tired or give them any sort of pain, whether it be physical or emotional?”
“No,” I said. “It was to help them prevent any of that. That’s why I wasn’t happy about being told never to do it,” I said, my voice firm, even snappy.
I didn’t look at anyone else. He didn’t flinch or blink until I leaned toward him.
“Who are you?” I asked—more like demanded.
His eyes began to widen, and a tight smile spread from his lips and into his cheeks.
“Sage!” my mother cried.
Uncle Alexis put up his hand. “I apologize,” he said. “I can’t keep the therapist quiet inside me. Too many years of practicing. Can you tell me one thing, one very good thing you did for someone because of your visions, your premonitions?”
I looked at my parents. They were of one face, frightened. I sensed it. This was probably the most important question of all.
“There was a girl at school whose father was sexually abusing her,” I said.
He nodded, his face full of anticipation.
“She had bruises. I had visions about her, and I left a note with the school nurse. I didn’t sign it with my name, but it was enough to get her to investigate. The police were brought into it, and the girl was taken out of our school. She’s in a special school being counseled.”
He sat back, nodding softly.
“You never told us about this,” my mother said.
“I was afraid to, because of how angry you get whenever I mention anything like my visions.”
“It’s all right,” my father told me.
I nodded. Then I looked at Uncle Alexis again. “Who are you?” I asked, a little more fervently this time.
“Who do you think I am?”
“I don’t know . . . yet,” I said. “But I will.”
He started to laugh. Aunt Suzume smiled. My father smiled, too. Only my mother kept her face solemn, her eyes still awash with concern.
I rose and began to clean up. Everyone just watched me, but I no longer felt timid or nervous under their watchful eyes. I didn’t understand why, but I sensed a new strength in myself. It was as if I had leaped years ahead. I had passed some test, and although I wasn’t sure what it was or what it meant, I felt a sense of accomplishment.
They returned to their conversations about people I had never met or known. I listened with half an ear. My mind was racing with too many other thoughts. I was loading the dishwasher when my mother stepped into the kitchen to tell me they were leaving. I followed her out to say good-bye.
Uncle Alexis took my hand into both of his and smiled. “Please forgive me for being so inquisitive, Sage. You brought me back to my younger days, when I was very involved in my work.”
“I don’t know if that’s a compliment or not,” I said, and he laughed.
“You don’t need a therapist,” he said. “You will be fine.”
He hugged me, Aunt Suzume kissed and hugged me, and then they said good-bye to my mother. My father followed them out.
I thought my mother was smiling at me. It was as if she had been caged in ice, and it was all cracking up around her and melting away. She surprised me by putting her arm around me.
“Thanks for helping with lunch and doing all the cleanup, Sage,” she said.
I knew I was beaming.
We paused when the phone rang. She looked at me.
“It’s for me,” I said. The vibrations were clear.
“Did they say anything to you after I left you at the mall last night?” Summer asked as soon as I said hello.
“They think Jason drugged them and all the boys were in on it. Ginny made me swear I wouldn’t tell what they told me, but this is not going to be a secret well kept under lock and key.”
He laughed. “I agree. There’s trouble in River City.”
“Pardon?”
“A song in The Music Man. I saw the show in London years ago.”
“Oh. Yes, Monday will be very interesting. Everyone will be wondering why no one is talking to each other.”
“Except us. We won’t be wondering, and we’ll talk to each other.”
“Will we?”
“I want to see you tonight.”
“Tonight?”
“I want to do what we did last night but without any subterfuge. No hiding, no deceit, just a boy and a girl going on a dinner date. Ask your parents. I’ll come to meet them.”
The very idea made me tremble. Before I could say anything, he rattled off his phone number.
“I don’t know about this,” I said. “I mean, they hate my pulling anything surprising on them and—”
“Use your powers of persuasion the way you used them on Mr. Jacobs,” he insisted. “I have faith in you,” he added, and then said good-bye before I could tell him that was something I would never do to my parents, even if I was able to do it.
18
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sp; As it turned out, I didn’t have to rely on any powers of persuasion. I had no doubt that if things had not gone as well as they had with Uncle Alexis and Aunt Suzume, my parents would have said no immediately, but it truly was as if a page had been turned, a door opened, and chains unlocked.
“Where does he want to take you?” my mother asked.
“Just to dinner, so we can talk and get to know each other more.”
She looked at my father.
He shrugged and smiled. “As Uncle Alexis says, Felicia, we’ve got to let her grow up,” he said, almost in a whisper.
“Young people grow up too fast today. They don’t know it, but they miss the best part of their lives, innocence,” she said.
“Innocence has become a luxury in this world, Felicia. You know that,” he said.
“Too well,” she said. “Tell him to come in and spend a few minutes with us,” she told me, which was her way of saying yes.
“Thanks, Mother,” I said, and went to call Summer.
He picked up almost before the phone rang. “I knew you could do it,” he said before I told him.
“How did you know they would say yes?”
“I believe in you, Sage. I believe that whatever you want to do, you can do, as long as you want it enough.”
“Blind optimism,” I said. “Okay. You’ll have to come in and spend fifteen or twenty minutes under the bright lights. What time will you arrive?”
“Six thirty. Don’t worry. I’ll be Johnny Perfect.”
“Don’t be too Johnny Perfect. They’ll see you’re trying too hard to please them and that you’re being false.”
“Okay. I’ll just be myself, reasonably well behaved. Don’t worry. Rather, yes worry,” he corrected.
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