by Robin Allen
She spotted Ava at once, sitting on the largest of several pieces of luggage in the middle of the terminal, munching on a large bag of pretzels. Seeing Sage coming toward her, Ava jumped to her feet. Despite the hour and surprise, Sage was happy to see her little sister, and the two women embraced warmly.
“What’s with all the luggage?” Sage asked, staring at her sister.
“I’m moving to Atlanta,” Ava announced blithely.
“What?” Sage exclaimed, her heavy eyebrows arched in surprise as she gave her little sister a don’t-play-with-me look.
“I’m serious, Sage. I want to live in Atlanta. I hate Baltimore.”
“And when did you decide this?”
“Yesterday,” Ava replied. “But, you know, I’ve been thinking about it for a while.”
“We were supposed to discuss it first,” Sage scolded, picking up Ava’s garment bag and suitcase.
“Well, I’m here,” Ava replied happily, her high-energy attitude typical.
“Okay, come on,” Sage said, picking up several suitcases and leading the way to the car. They loaded the trunk with Ava’s mix of luggage—two garment bags, three suitcases and an old trunk. The trunk reminded Sage of the months following her father’s death in Vietnam, when they’d moved in with her maternal grandparents. Sage treasured those memories, the time before her mother married Aaron Hicks, forever changing their relationship.
“Okay, what’s going on?” Sage asked as she turned the corner onto Peachtree Street.
“Nothing much. I’m just tired of being at home. Ma and Daddy are driving me crazy. They bug me all the time.” Ava scanned the radio stations until she heard a rap song she liked. She turned up the volume and leaned back in the plush leather seat, popping a pretzel in her mouth.
“I thought you were moving in with Jamilla.”
“I was. Bought kitchen stuff, a bedroom set, everything. Then she up and changed her mind on me.”
“I’m sorry, Ava,” Sage said.
“Ma was so happy when I told her I wasn’t moving. You should have seen her.”
“I bet she was.”
“But I can’t afford to move into an apartment by myself. And I don’t want to live with them anymore. I’m tired of going to the Hall, and they hassle me every day about not going.”
“So what about your job?”
“I quit yesterday.”
“I thought you liked working there.”
“I did. But I don’t want to be a secretary forever.”
“So what do you want to do?”
“Design clothes—and everyone says Atlanta is the place to be.”
“What do you know about being a fashion designer?” A memory of Ava making dresses for her baby dolls flashed in Sage’s mind.
“I’ve been taking classes for a while. I never told Ma. She would have had a fit,” Ava said, licking the salt off a pretzel.
“Is that why you left?”
“Why are you tripping, Sage? You left home when you were seventeen. At least I’m twenty-two.”
“My reasons for leaving were very different.”
“When are you going to tell me why you left?”
“I’ve told you why. I wanted to go to college, and they didn’t want me to go.”
“You still could have said goodbye to me and Aaron.”
“Why are we talking about me? You’re the one who just left.”
“Maybe because you haven’t told me everything.”
Ignoring her innuendo, Sage said, “Well, I’m not surprised that you’re tired of living at home or that you want to be a designer, with the crazy way you dress, but I am surprised that you would leave Brandon.”
Ava stopped munching on the pretzels.
Sage turned down the radio. Without looking at her, Sage had felt something change in Ava when Brandon’s name was mentioned. “What about Brandon? I thought you two were serious,” Sage persisted.
“So did I!” Ava said, as tears threatened to fall from her pretty brown eyes.
“What happened?” Sage asked gently.
“He broke up with me. He doesn’t want to be tied down.”
“I know it hurts, baby. Believe me, it will get better.” Sage reached over and patted Ava’s leg. “Men, they’re so damn unpredictable.”
“Yeah, well, I’m going to find a new boyfriend.”
Sage turned into her driveway. She lived in a three-bedroom house with a two-car garage in the heart of Buckhead, one of Atlanta upscale areas, just minutes from downtown. Sage had purchased the blush-colored, two-story brick house brand-new and selected the fixtures, carpeting, wallpaper and cabinetry. Sage pressed the garage door opener and pulled inside.
“I just love your house,” Ava said, as they carried her luggage inside the house, up the spiral stairs to the second floor that had two bedrooms, a large bathroom and a loft area with a view of the living room and dining room. They put Ava’s luggage in the guest room where she always stayed.
“Everything looks the same,” Ava said, when they walked down the stairs. “Oh, wait a minute,” she said, moving toward the curio cabinet in the foyer. “You have a new butterfly,” she said, opening the glass door of the curio. Ava picked up a brass butterfly from an assortment of butterflies made of crystal, wax, glass and brass on the four-shelved lighted curio. “I like the way the wings fold,” Ava said. She returned the butterfly to its space on the crowded shelf. “You’re running out of room.”
“I know. I haven’t bought one in a couple of years, but people keep giving them to me,” Sage said. “That one was from a consultant who worked on the campaign.”
“I can’t believe you still have the one I made in high school,” Ava said, spotting the ceramic butterfly she created years ago.
“That’s my favorite one.”
“Right!”
Sage yawned. “I’m going to bed. There’s some food in the refrigerator if you’re hungry. We can talk some more tomorrow.”
It was 4:45 a.m. when Sage crawled back in the bed. In an hour, her alarm would ring to awaken her for another day.
* * * * *
“As soon as Drew gets here, we’ll be leaving,” Sage said. She sat at the dining room table, typing some letters on her laptop computer. Ramion was in the living room, scanning the TV channels with the remote.
Hearing Drew’s name, Ava ran down the steps. “You didn’t tell me he was coming over.”
“He has the tickets,” Sage said.
“I love basketball,” Ava said. “The Hawks have been hitting it.”
“They’re doing much better than last year,” Ramion said.
When the doorbell rang, Ava rushed to the door, excited about seeing Drew. Her firm, five-foot-five frame was covered in black from head to toe—black jeans, black turtleneck, black boots. Silver necklace, long silver earrings and an armful of silver bangles offered the only contrast. She opened the door flashing a toothpaste smile. “Hi, Drew!” she cried, throwing her arms around his neck.
“Ava,” Drew exclaimed. “How are you, baby?”
“I’m great!”
“Sage didn’t tell me you were here.”
“I sort of surprised her,” Ava said. “I just got here three days ago.”
Drew went into the living room and walked over to greet Ramion, “Hey, man, what’s happening?”
“Ain’t nothing going on, man! I’m just glad the election is over.”
“I heard that!” Drew said. “You’d be amazed at how many people hate having a black governor. They don’t mind writing to the newspaper and signing their name.”
“I wouldn’t be too surprised, especially after someone had the nerve to blow up his campaign headquarters.” Changing subjects, Ramion said, “I like those boots, man,” indicating Drew’s fancy black leather boots.
“Thanks. That’s my thing. Boots.”
“Drew’s the only brother I know who wears cowboy boots,” Sage said. “He even wore them when we were in school.”
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sp; “We better get going or we’re going to be late,” Ramion said.
“Give me a sec,” Sage said, turning off her laptop computer.
“Where’s your date?” Ava asked.
“Kelly’s meeting us there,” Drew said.
“Do you have an extra ticket?” Sage asked. “Ava’s been hinting.”
“Yeah, you know I’m good friends with the sports editor.”
“I’ll get my coat,” Ava said. “Are you serious about Kelly?”
“Baby, I don’t believe in girlfriends,” Drew said with a chuckle.
Chapter Five
Within three days of her abrupt arrival in Atlanta, Ava had a job working in the office of the newly elected governor. Sitting at a desk across from Marika, Ava popped another piece of bubble gum into her mouth, chewing heartily on the cherry-flavored wad. She peeled off a mailing label and placed it on the front of the ivory linen-textured envelope. She inserted a gold-lettered invitation into the envelope and sealed it.
“Marika, do you know Dr. Ralph Harris?” Ava asked, reading the name on the invitation. She placed the invitation on top of the stack of envelopes that she had prepared for mailing.
“Nope,” Marika replied.
“Are you going to the party?”
“Are you kidding?” Marika replied saucily. “This is an exclusive inaugural party. It’s going to be at the Governor’s Mansion.”
A quizzical expression covered Ava’s face. “Have you been there?”
“Yeah, girl, and it’s beautiful. Everything is real elegant and expensive. It’s hard to describe because it’s nothing like what you’ve seen before. You have to see it for yourself. You will when we set up offices over there. How long are you going to work with us?”
“I don’t know,” she answered, shrugging her shoulders. “I can’t believe Sage got me a job so quickly. She said there’s going to be an opening for an administrative assistant, but nothing’s definite yet. It would be cool to work here and find a way to go to design school at the same time.”
Marika said, “I really like working for Sage.”
“It feels a little weird to work for my big sister, but this is a chance to get to know her. I usually come down in the summer to visit for a couple weeks, but I’ve never spent a whole lot of time with her.”
“How much older is she than you?”
“Five years. But we have different fathers. Our mother remarried when Sage’s father died. Anyway, when Sage graduated from high school, she left home to go to college, but never came back. I was only five.”
“Eight? How old was she when she graduated?”
“I think she was sixteen or something like that. She graduated from high school early. I remember her and Ma fighting all the time about college, but Sage was determined to go so she left.” Her voice was suddenly tinged with sadness. “She left in the middle of the summer.”
They were interrupted by the ringing telephone. Marika answered, “Cameron Hudson’s office. May I help you?” After hanging up the phone a few minutes later, she said, “There’s going to be another party. An everyday-people party.”
“What’s that?”
“That’s what I call it when they invite, you know, regular folks, working people, not the five-hundred-dollars-a-plate contributors.”
Sage came out of her office with a young white man. Dressed in a business navy, pin-striped suit, he extended his right hand to Sage. “Thanks again for the interview. If you have any more questions, please don’t hesitate to call.”
“I’ll be in touch,” Sage said.
After he walked out the office, Ava asked, “Who was that?”
“He was interviewing for the educational director position,” Sage answered.
“Are you going to hire him?” Marika asked.
“Maybe, but I have two other people to interview first. He’s definitely on my callback list for a second interview.”
“He sure is a cute white boy,” Ava said.
“And he knows it. He’s kind of cocky, but he’s got the right credentials.” Sage noticed the pile of sealed invitations on both their desks. “You ladies have been busy.”
“Yes, busy, busy, busy,” Ava said. She grinned at Sage and placed headphones on her head. “This is my song. Salt-N-Pepa can jam!” She bobbed her head to the beat of the music.
“Let me know when that reporter gets here,” Sage said, before returning to her office.
* * * * *
Callie Callison, a staff writer from Atlanta magazine, placed a tape recorder on the corner of Sage’s desk. In her late twenties, Callie’s curly bleached-blonde hair hung past her shoulders. Bright-blue eyes blazed from behind black, square-rimmed glasses. She held her mouth tightly as she reviewed the list of questions she planned to ask Sage for her article tentatively titled “Atlanta’s Women Power Players”.
Callie removed a yellow notebook and pen from her well-worn brown leather briefcase. While waiting for her host to end her telephone conversation, Callie wrote down several items in Sage’s office—the personalized paperweight with Columbia University scripted on it, the pictures of Sage with former US President and Georgia Governor Jimmy Carter, former Atlanta Mayor Maynard Jackson, Coretta Scott King and Reverend Jesse Jackson, the abstract painting of a butterfly and two framed poems by Maya Angelou: “Phenomenal Woman” and “On the Pulse of Morning”.
When Sage hung up the phone, she apologized, “I’m sorry, Callie. I had to take that call. There won’t be any more interruptions.” She scribbled some notes in her Day-Timer, then glanced at her watch. “I can only talk to you for thirty minutes, and then I have to go to a meeting.”
“That’s fine,” Callie said. “Perhaps later I can spend more time with you, maybe follow you around for a day.”
“Hmm,” Sage said, flipping through her calendar. “That may be difficult. I don’t know what kind of deadline you’re working under, but I won’t be available for an entire day until mid-January.”
“Maybe I’ll get all I need today. Scott Denton, our photographer, will be calling you to schedule a photo shoot.”
“That won’t be a problem,” Sage said. She opened her desk drawer and pulled out a microcassette tape recorder. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to also record the interview.”
Callie smiled wryly. “No problem.” She flipped open her notebook and said, “Incidentally, congratulations on winning the election.”
“Thank you. I’m relieved it’s all over, and I’m thrilled we won. It was a battle down to the wire.”
“How did the bombing affect your commitment to the campaign?”
“I was aware of the threats, and we beefed up security, but on some levels, I didn’t believe the threats would become real. When I woke up in the hospital, it became very real. Of course, I wondered who had done it and why. Was it racially motivated? But I wasn’t going to let it dampen my commitment to getting Cameron elected governor.”
“Before getting into politics, you worked in public affairs at Coca-Cola. What prompted a move from the private sector into public service?”
“I’ve always had an interest in politics. I feel that working in government is a direct way to improve people’s lives and to make a real contribution to society.”
“I understand you did very well at Coca-Cola. Three promotions in four years,” Callie said.
“Uh-huh. You’ve been checking up on me,” Sage said with a smile.
Callie smiled back. “Of course.”
“I’m proud of my accomplishments there. I started in the Public Relations department, moved to Urban Affairs, and then I was made director of Community Relations.”
“All within four years.”
“Four and a half years, actually, before I went to work for the City of Atlanta.”
“How did that come about?”
“I met the mayor through my work at Coke. I’m sure you know that Coca-Cola sponsors a lot of civic and community functions, and I met the mayor at a fund-raiser. Lat
er, when Pat Hall resigned from his communications director post, I got several calls telling me I was being considered for the position. I interviewed, and Cameron offered me the job.”
Sage shifted in the black high-back leather chair and continued, “It was a difficult decision to make because I really liked my job, but politics have always tugged at me. I suppose I believed I could accomplish more in public service.”
“Such as?”
“Help make things happen to improve people’s lives, that’s what matters most. Government is the epicenter of our nation. It’s where the power and the money are. Even at the city level, people’s lives are affected by government decisions. At the gubernatorial level, the power to influence is even greater. It’s very exciting to know we can do a lot to help.”
“What are some of the new governor’s goals?”
“First and foremost, he intends to significantly improve the state’s social service programs, especially for children and the elderly. We always rank low in those areas.”
“Are there any issues you and Mr. Hudson disagree on?”
“I think we are like-minded on the serious issues,” Sage replied with a smile. “We sometimes differ on tactics or timetables.”
Flipping to a new page in her notepad, Callie asked, “Why did Mr. Hudson pick you to run his campaign? Many expected him to hire a more seasoned person.”
“He certainly could have. I think he chose me because I outlined a campaign plan and defined our strategies and tactics for winning very early, months before we started campaigning. Of course, we had outside counsel, locally and nationally.”
“On a personal front, do you hope to marry and have children one day?”
“Absolutely. I want the whole dream. I look forward to being a wife and a mother.”
“Are you seeing anybody seriously?”
“I’m involved, but that’s all I’m going to say about it.”
“Where did your ambition come from?”
Sage smiled. “Who could really answer that? Certainly not me.”
“Well, what about strong role models in your life?”
“I suppose I’d have to credit my Aunt Maddie. She never married, but she was always career-minded. She’s a teacher, and very well traveled. She’s always been very devoted to me.” Her eyes softened as she talked about her father’s sister. Aunt Maddie was the link to her father’s family.
