Painting Sage
Page 13
“Sage Sloane,” the words tumbled out of my mouth. Then, just as quickly I added, in hopes to deflect, “Some alliteration there for you, future English teacher.”
But it wasn’t lost on her for a second. “Alliteration? Very cute, ad man. Sloane now? Her name is Sage, and she’s taking your last name, too?”
Here it came. My perfect opportunity. “Well… maybe, so can you?”
The laugh escaped her lips too readily, and for a few seconds, I started to regret my last question. When the realization of what I was asking finally seemed to hit her, Julia’s already soulfully large eyes widened even more. The room grew uncomfortably quiet, in a way unusual even for a newly rented and empty apartment without a single chair or picture frame to absorb sound.
She finally broke the silence. “Are you asking me…” her words came to a sudden halt of understanding. Then her face finally formed into a smile that would be forever ingrained in my memory.
“It makes sense,” I rambled. “We’ve known each other forever. Sage… she… will be here in a few months. We’re practically a family already. Shouldn’t we just make it official?”
Her tone grew serious. “Is that what you want?”
It wasn’t quite the reaction I was hoping for. When I imagined it in my mind, many times over, she always threw her arms around me, crying out in pure joy as I lifted her up and spun her around in a series of unending circles. But then again, that fantasy just wasn’t Julia’s way.
I took her hand into my own and nodded firmly. “It is, Julia. It is.”
*
Unable to sit still, nervously tapping my foot over and over, I found myself pulling the phone out of my pocket again. When I couldn’t bear it any longer, I called the main line to Julia’s school, fully knowing she was most likely in the middle of class teaching. As the minutes came and went—spent in typical midtown traffic—I realized it probably would have made more sense to have taken the subway. Just as the taxi finally reached Central Park Zoo, someone from the office managed to snag Julia away from her room. Thrusting a much-too-large bill into the driver’s hand, I bolted out of the cab and ran towards admissions.
“What happened?” Julia cut to the chase, not wasting any time.
“Do you have any way of locating Sage? Her GPS—”
“Just stop. Sage figured out a way to disable that a long time ago—”
“How did she—”
“She’s a teenager. Enough said. Please, please tell me you’re mentioning GPS because Sage is going for a long leisurely walk around your building, and you can’t find her.”
Picking up my pace as I headed for the penguin house, I couldn’t even respond.
“Mike, don’t tell me she stormed off.”
“She stormed off.”
Julia sighed. “Hold on, let me grab an open computer, I’ll check her social media—”
“You don’t sound nervous.”
“Should I be?” Surprisingly, Julia let out a small chuckle. “Mike, she does this stuff to me all the time. Don’t worry about it. She’s probably posting pictures and including the location. What did you do to upset her?”
Feeling rather foolish, my face growing flush, I quietly replied, “She figured out everything with Sheila. She overheard you and I speak last night.”
Another sigh. “Uh oh. Daughter versus new girlfriend—battle of the millennials.”
“This isn’t the time for smart comments, Julia,” I snapped, actually taken aback. It was an unusually snarky remark to make, even for her.
“Well, it’s true. Anyway, maybe this time you can sit down with Sage and come clean yourself, not make me do your dirty work for you. Here it is. She’s at the zoo—”
“Just got here—”
“Posted a picture of penguins—”
“That’s where I’m headed.”
The budding knot slowly started to dissipate from within my stomach as I began to finally feel hopeful again.
“Mike, I mean it this time. This is your mess. You clean it up.”
“Wait,” I slowed down my pace, “you’re not coming down here to meet me?”
“Are you kidding me? I have classes to teach. This is a private school. We don’t have a whole pool of subs that can be called in at any minute. It’s time to put on your big-boy pants and deal with your teenager. That is, your teenage daughter—not your girlfriend.”
“Hilarious. Are you sure she’s here?”
“Positive.”
It wasn’t at all the reaction I was expecting to receive. Somehow, I had pictured several expletives hurled in my direction, the sound of textbooks slamming against student lockers piercing my eardrum via cell phone. It almost felt like a huge joke that everyone was in on but me.
“Julia… are you sure you don’t want to come down here?”
“Mike, this is on you. If I come storming in waving my finger, going on and on about how reckless you are… well, what difference would that make? Then we’re just playing right into her hands, and that’s what she expects us to do. She’s angry, and quite frankly, she has every right to be. If you want to make this right, if you want her to respect you, you’re going to have to play the role of father this time. Believe me on this one.”
“I’m not playing a role, Julia. I was hard on her before—”
“I’m not talking about being strict or reprimanding her, Mike. I’m talking about treating her like a young, intelligent woman who is capable. We have to stop acting as if Sage is this fragile being we need to rescue from reality. We have to start holding her accountable. Look, I’ve been on the phone for much too long now. I need to return to my class.”
They were hard words to swallow, but I knew intrinsically that Julia was right.
“I’ll keep you posted.”
“Of course. Good luck, Mike.”
*
Bronxville, New York, 2009
“And what exactly am I supposed to do with all this stuff? Mike, you haven’t thought any of this through!” Julia waved her arms frantically above her head, gesturing wildly about what was once our bedroom, exasperated, shaking her head half angry, half in utter disbelief.
“You can sell things. Give it to Goodwill. I really don’t care,” I said, as I shoved a final shirt into my duffle bag, the sound of the zipper punctuating my sentence. Beginning to realize the finality of it all, I sat down on the bed, one last time, staring off into—and almost through—the wall. “Julia, I don’t think this is something we can work through, but I… I don’t know how to leave you either,” I confessed.
Folding her arms across her chest, she sank into the bed next to me.
“That’s ridiculous,” she scoffed. “You can’t leave us for another woman and then claim not to want to leave… You are being completely selfish—”
“I have been more than patient and giving—”
“Patient and giving? You don’t actually believe that, do you? As far as I’m concerned, this is a family, and you must make a choice. There’s no room for negotiation on this one. You can’t just say you’re leaving, pack your bags in the middle of the night, and then claim you don’t want to.” She shook her head. “No. No, this has been going on for much too long. It’s either Abigail or us.”
“Much too long?”
“You heard me. I know what’s been going on. I’m not a fool, Mike. So please,” a chill broke through what was once the steadfast warmth of her deep, dark eyes, “don’t treat me like one.” For the first time in possibly years, Julia’s voice began to choke up, her strength now wavering, fighting desperately to maintain one final semblance of control.
“It’s not like that, Julia.”
“It’s exactly like that.”
I shrugged. And then, faced with the need to express and explain myself, as if it would somehow bring logic and sense to my otherwise seemingly impetuous actions I said, “She challenges me to be a better person and you… don’t.”
It was possibly the most inconsiderate and
untrue sentence I would ever say to her, but it fell so quickly and easily from my mouth. At the time, maybe a small part of me believed it.
“Dad? What are you doing with your duffle bag?”
She stood in the doorway. Startled by her sudden presence, I looked at Julia imploringly to help me somehow produce the words needed to soften the inevitable blow. But they didn’t come.
“Honey,” I mustered up the strength to finally address Sage, but I couldn’t look her in the eye. “I’m going on a short vacation,” I offered weakly.
Of course, she was just as sharp then as ever. “Since when do any of us go on vacation alone?” she asked, her ten years of precocity shining through. “Besides, Dad, it’s almost midnight.” Her gaze traveled toward Julia. Tilting her head to the side, Sage added, “Mom, have you been crying?”
Silently, Julia’s eye settled directly across from my own. She didn’t speak a word and yet somehow managed to say everything.
“It’s just for a little while,” I continued the lie. “I’m going to stay in Connecticut for… a work thing. As soon as everything is sorted out, I’ll be back.” I wouldn’t be. I knew it then, and quite honestly, Sage knew it as well.
“Why? You’ll be back in time for my birthday party, won’t you?”
“Michael,” Julia said. But I didn’t have it in me to answer. Then, realizing I wasn’t about to offer any more, she continued, “Your daughter has a question for you. Where are you going? And why?”
There they were: the two of them—my life for nearly a decade, a lifetime if just counting Julia. My focus rambled everywhere: at the ground, the wall, the bed, anything but either one of them. The deafening, excruciatingly painful stillness of that room would not let up on me until, finally, I knew the only way it ever would was if I just ended it myself.
“I’m leaving for a little while, honey, but I’m running late now.” Grabbing my bag without another word, I hoisted myself from the bed and found myself heading out of the bedroom and toward the front door of our apartment. How could I possibly explain it to Sage, in a way she’d understand, that her life might be a little better without me in it?
“OH, NO, YOU ARE NOT!” Julia screamed, but I ignored her.
Practically running for the door, refusing to look behind, I muttered sorry under my breath before swinging the door wide open. It was then that a sharp, anguished cry escaped from Julia’s lips. Just as quickly, it dissipated, as if she had already accepted what was now their reality.
“Just go,” I heard her whisper, defeated, as I shut the door behind me.
*
Sage stood there in darkness once again, this time utterly unaffected while what could only be described as an “organized frenzy” unraveled around her. Children crowded, left and right, some screaming, gawking, and pointing in delight towards every direction. Others tugged on the shirttails of stay-at-home parents and nannies, needing. Then there were those who broke completely loose from authority, bolting, running in rampant abandon. Yet Sage remained in complete oblivion to it all. There she stood, soundless and pensive.
I waited for her to notice me, almost expecting to be greeted stoically, without a single emotion flickering across her face. But when she saw me and recognized that I had become a part of that chaotic sea, the anger and sadness appeared to engulf her. It was at that moment when I started to understand the full gravity of my earlier actions towards her and just where our relationship was headed unless something drastically changed.
“Took you long enough,” she spoke simply, before turning her full attention down to the phone held in her hand as if whatever it displayed could be more interesting, more important than me.
“I deserve that,” I replied, approaching her somewhat hesitantly. They say when engaged in negotiations, the key is to convince the other party that everything that transpires is completely their idea. It’s a practice I implemented almost daily; still, my confidence within that moment rapidly dwindled. I didn’t really know what it looked like to treat Sage like an adult, but I knew plenty about what it meant to treat her like a child. There was no room for that type of mistake if I truly wanted to make everything between us right again.
“I’m not going back,” she said flatly.
“Your mother is very busy right now, and her students need her,” I paused before choosing my next words carefully, and then continued. “Otherwise, she would be here with me right now.”
“Good for her, I guess.”
“We both know that she isn’t involved in any of this. This is between you and me.”
I expected her to fold her arms across her chest, prepared for her to lay out all her demands on the table. I imagined that if I argued there wasn’t a choice in the matter, she would just counter with an even more outlandish ultimatum, followed by with a well-executed tantrum. If I backed down, it would send a clear message that she hadn’t done anything wrong. It would just encourage her to act out and eventually run away each and every time an expectation was made clear to her. I was mentally prepared for battle.
Instead, she broke down.
It started as a soft whimper, which was then followed by a slight shaking of her shoulders. And before I could think of something poignant, insightful, or fatherly to say, Sage was sobbing. I immediately ran over to her and took her into my arms. My resolve had been defeated by the tears of a teenage girl.
“We don’t have to go back to the office just yet… In fact, I thought we might head up to Tillman a bit early,” I bargained, “maybe even stop at the diner beforehand. Never got a chance at that breakfast I ordered earlier. We’ll swing by the office when that’s all out of the way.” I rambled on and on, like I had many times before. Overwrought with guilt, it became nearly impossible for me to stand my ground. All I had at that moment was the memory of when I had abandoned her etched painfully and deeply in my mind.
“I don’t want to see your stupid school either. I want to go to a regular high school—at home.” She sniffled into my shoulder, wiping her nose against the sleeve of my coat.
It wasn’t turning out well at all. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting that, Sage,” I softly whispered, “and I promise, if you really feel that’s the best option for you at this point, I’m going to support your choice.”
“I don’t need your support,” she snapped.
“I’m not trying to sell you on anything.” I needed to remain firm and in control. Clearing my throat, I continued in what I hoped would sound like a more authoritative tone. “A very good friend of mine pulled strings to get us this appointment, and it was not easy. They’re expecting to see us today.”
She seemed somewhat puzzled by the sudden change in my demeanor. “If you’re doing this because you want me to be closer to you—”
“That’s not the point—”
“—it’s not going to work. I don’t want to be closer to you anymore,” her voice grew noticeably clearer between the sobs. “I’m not going to be a part of your happy modern family in Williamsburg with her. Me and Mom are doing just fine. We have gotten this far without you.”
The words stung me harshly, but I knew they were coming from a deep sense of truth. In the past six years, what had I really done to support her? Still, I wasn’t about to let her call the shots and possibly undermine everything I was trying to build for her—for us—now.
“Sage, you need to be willing to give us a chance. You have opportunities that cannot be taken for granted, and it’s time for you to start making choices that are in your best interest.” There. I said it.
“Who are you to talk about choices?” she countered. “I wanted to see you more, too, Dad,” her voice began to quiver again. “But it’s so hard to, and I don’t want to have to keep playing catch-up with your life. It’s not fair to me. I was just getting used to everything again. You can’t just change it all and act as if everything is all right, because it’s not.”
“I know.”
“Were you really even that unhappy?�
� she looked up from my shoulder and directly at me. “Why couldn’t you just keep things the way they were? It was perfect. It was better than anything we ever had—that’s for certain.”
I looked helplessly out toward the many other parents and adults milling about, trying to usher their children from one spot to another. Some did it so effortlessly. Others looked more dumbfounded and perplexed than even I must have been. A little boy purposefully stomped his feet while spinning in circles, screaming incoherently at the top of his lungs. A nanny chased after a girl who had somehow managed to hijack what looked like her baby sister’s stroller, making a bee-line for the exit. For a moment, there, I wondered if anyone in the crowd looked on sympathetically at me: the soon-to-be-twice-divorced-weekend-dad struggling to manage his hurt, vulnerable teenage daughter. I thought about Julia’s words— not to treat Sage like a broken child but as a bright and capable young woman.
“When I left you and your mother,” the words seemed to get caught in my throat. I took a deep breath, and tried again, “I thought that I needed to become a better person… and that you’d be better off if I were gone. And Abby, well, she was everything I never had and never was.” I hadn’t once shared this truth with anyone before, not even Connor. It was hard even to allow the words to fully form. “The thing is, I thought being with someone like her would somehow force me to be stronger. Well, I needed to be stronger for myself. And although Abby is a very beautiful woman and wonderful mother… we just aren’t right for each other. Believe me, Sage, the feeling is mutual. There are goals Abby has, dreams she wishes to fulfill, that aren’t in alignment with who I am and where I’m headed. We both need to move forward, but in separate directions. It’s what’s best for us and our family.”
Sage slowly nodded. “Me and Mom weren’t right for you either?”
Knowing she might even think, for a single second, that that was the truth hurt—a lot. “That’s not true. You mean the world to me.”
She looked doubtful.
“I realize that I’m not around enough to really show it appropriately, and I know there have been times when I’ve behaved more like a friend, less than a father. As for your mom, well, I do miss her. There are random times where I’ll just find myself thinking about her again. But some things can’t be undone… and, well… she needs to find her way, too.”