by Thomas, Thea
"I know where the restaurant is, my cousin is the cook there. Excellent cook. We be there soon, sooner if you please get out, I want you to meet someone."
Heart pounding, she slowly climbed out of the car. Perhaps there was someone here that she could appeal to. The driver touched her elbow and escorted her to the door of the cottage. He opened the door, but she flatly refused to go through it by anything less than brute force.
The face at the window came to the door. The driver and the young woman exchanged a few quiet words. Then, suddenly, the whole cottage was full of light, the doorway crowded with women. They came out to Sage and coaxed her inside, speaking in a beautiful liquid language that Sage felt as though she should be able to understand, but couldn't.
"My family, miss," the driver said over the din, grinning from ear to ear. "My four sisters, two cousins, and my mother. I wanted them to see your amazing hair."
The girls were all smiling at her, they lightly touched her sleeve, her arm, her cheek, her hair, giggling and huddling together.
One of the older ones came up to Sage. "My brother is fun, is he not? He works all day, all night for the money we live on, but takes the time to share his uptown life. The girls," she gestured to her little sisters and cousins, "love to see the expensive ladies... even from far away."
She turned to her brother. "Thank you brother, now take this nice lady to where she was going." She said something to the girls and they all stepped back. Her driver whisked her back into the taxi and pulled onto the road.
Sage, still in a whirlwind of surprise, felt tears in her eyes for the touching scene of this quiet man taking her to see his family, the only entertainment he could afford.
"You have a lovely, sweet family," she said to him.
"Thank you, miss. I know. Though I will be glad when they start to get married so that one day perhaps I can afford to get married, and have my own life."
He pulled up in front of another cottage, this one brightly lit, with colored lanterns hanging everywhere and steel drums pulsing in the night air.
"Here we are, miss." He opened her door. As she stepped out she saw Tina waving.
She gave the driver a sizable tip. "Tell your family that I think they are very beautiful. They're incredibly lucky to have you watch over them."
"Thank you, miss. Thank you very much."
She watched him drive away.
Tina ran up to her. "You're late! I just called the room. I thought maybe you decided to go to sleep. No answer – I was worried!"
"Well, I was too, for a while, but it came out okay," Sage answered.
"What do you mean?"
"I'll tell you about it later."
"Okay. Come, I want you to meet Alfred." Tina led her to a slightly balding, slightly rotund man. Not at all what Sag4 expected. Tina immediately cleared up the mystery. "Alfred's a talent scout. He's looking for the next Bob Marley. He knows the music better than most of the musicians themselves. We got to talking and – he's just so fun to hang out with."
Sage shook Alfred's hand, then Tina introduced her to about twenty other people she'd met that evening, including the members of the band. Sage had to admit one thing, Tina could remember people's names like no one she'd ever met. She had clearly become the darling of all the people she'd met.
The music seemed to insist that Sage dance, which she did until she thought she'd drop. Then she stood on the sidelines and watched. There was no stopping Tina, and it made Sage happy to see her friend truly in her element.
As Sage listened to the music, she closed her eyes and let it completely embrace her. A young woman who had been introduced as Angie came and stood by her. "My sister, she runs a beauty parlor, you ought to have her do your hair."
"Oh, I don't usually 'do' anything with my hair," Sage answered.
"My sister do it up in corn rows, beads, you'll look like a goddess. You have that face."
"Corn rows? I don't know. I don't know if I do have that kind of face." She smiled at Angie. "But I must admit, I'm curious how it would look."
Tina joined them, perspiring and fanning herself.
"What do you think, should I get my hair done in corn rows?"
"Oh yes! You'd look so exotic!"
"Maybe I'll try it... why not? And you too, Tina."
"Nope, not me."
"Why not?" Sage asked.
"I had it done once. Have you ever given a cat a bath, you know how ludicrous they look when they're completely wet? That's how I looked with my hair in corn rows."
Sage and Angie laughed.
"I'm serious," Tina protested. "It's like I was slapped with an ugly board."
"Well, I still think I'll try it," Sage said. "Give me the address, Angie."
For the rest of the night Sage watched the svelte dark limbs of the dancers and listened to the mellow bright tones of the steel drums and felt this must be nirvana.
....................................................................* *
The following afternoon Sage relaxed in a chair while her hair was braided and beaded into corn rows, the soft language of the women coming and going, flowing over her like a healing mineral stream.
"Your hair is not thin and lazy like most blonde hair," Dahlia, Angie's sister said as she deftly braided. "It is strong. Has strength like good black hair. Very special hair, strong, blonde. And you too, a strong woman. I can feel grief coming out through you, girl. But you're strong.
Sage's brow furrowed at these words. Here, in this mystical place with the wonderful people she'd met, she was just about the happiest she'd been since a child. And yet, her grief still came off her?
"I tell you something else I know... there's a good man, a young man, at home for you. He waits. You here, you try to forget. Okay. Fine. You need to forget for a while. You get back, you remember."
"Hmm." Sage said thoughtfully, "why do you say this personal thing about me?"
"I'm touching you for hours. I feel everything come out of you and go towards you. I feel it all."
Dahlia handed Sage a mirror.
Sage gasped. "It's... it's stunning!"
Dahlia nodded. "Yes. Very unusual my sister recommend anyone to come see me, especially foreigners. Just locals. But she know what she see when she see someone she send to me. She's very particular. I'm very particular. I hate to do hair I'm not liking.
" Never mind all that. You listen to what I say now. This good young man, the one who wears glasses," she made two round circles with her fingers before her huge brown eyes, "you don't keep him waiting. Good man deserve good treatment. Good men are rare."
"That's true," Sage agreed, "good men are rare."
Sage had left Tina sleeping soundly when she went to Dahlia's, and, as she drove back to the hotel, her mind was on what Dahlia had said. She was oblivious to the ripple of attention she created with he bright blonde, long braided hair.
Tina was munching on a slice of toast when Sage walked into their suite. "Oh wow, Sage," Tina exclaimed, eyes wide. "Look at you! Hollywood, eat her dust!"
Sage laughed.
"I'm not kidding – all those gold filigree beads, you look like you're wearing a crown! Queen Sage!" Tina bowed her head.
"Enough groveling, oh faithful servant," Queen Sage said. "Put down that toast. I'm starving let's go find a real meal and put on a couple of pounds. We're only here two more days."
"Oh, you're a good queen." Tina went into her room and got into a pair of jeans and a tube top.
"And," Sage called from the lanai, "you won't believe what Dahlia told me."
Tina popped back into Sage's room. "What?"
As they wandered down the hall to the stairs, Sage told her what Dahlia had said about the "good young man."
"It's Michael," Tina nodded as they stepped out into the bright late afternoon sun. "She's talking about Michael."
Sage shrugged.
"Not just a shrug, Sage. I think she probably really picked up on the truth. You know I've said the two of
you ought to be together. It's just when you said you didn't want him that I... you know... I didn't want him to go to waste. I wanted to keep him in the 'family'."
"What I said was...."
"That he's a challenge."
"Yes. He seems challenging. But, the thing is, the strange thing is, I've been having all these dreams about him...."
Tina stopped short. "You didn't tell me that!"
"I know. I didn't want to bother you. I didn't want to bring him up. But he came up anyway. And I'm having dreams with him in them. Every night and every time I take a nap. Just always. It's driving me kind of crazy. I hoped that here, changing my environment, changing everything, they'd quit. But no, it hasn't worked out that way at all. The dreams have been more incessant here than at home."
"He's thinking about you."
"I don't know. That would be strange, wouldn't it? When he's so testy and unfriendly with me?"
"He's testy and unfriendly because he doesn't want to face his feelings for you. Because of Anthony."
"Yes. Well. Anthony. Another sticky wicket."
"Sage, my friend, you can't live other people's lives. It's quite enough to live your own and do right by it. Anthony will be fine, whatever happens."
"You're right."
They stopped in front of a cheerful restaurant, with yellow and white umbrellas over the outside tables, yellow and white table clothes, and a yellow and white cat, sitting in a window box full of happy yellow daisies.
"This is the place," Tina said.
"Definitely!"
They had a lovely luncheon, people watching and people watched, while the cat came and purred at their ankles.
The two remaining days in paradise passed all too quickly.
Chapter 14
Mr. Allerton came into Michael's office, barely knocking, and certainly not waiting for an answer. "I need you to go to the Bay area," he said without preamble. "I want you to work with the guys at the production plant, see if we can't iron out a couple of problems that are cropping up with that chip before they get out of hand."
"What about this one?" Michael pointed to the plans spread out all over his desk.
"I'll put a couple of the guys here on it. I need you where I need you and unfortunately, you can't be in two places at once. I'd clone you if I could. Anyway, I've got to have you up there tomorrow."
"Well, at least you've given me some notice." Michael's tone was droll.
"You're welcome," Mr. Allerton replied in similar tone as he turned and left Michael's office.
Michael did not like having to switch mental gears with his work, and his boss knew it. There must be major problems with the chip in production in Silicon Valley. Another minus because he did not enjoy trying to discover where someone else had glitched up his carefully designed work.
The next day, as he waited in line to rent a car at the San Francisco airport, he suddenly remembered that his Aunt Alison had moved to San Francisco after the divorce from Anthony. Maybe he could find her. She'd always been his favorite aunt, and, as a child, he knew nothing of "aunt by marriage." When they divorced, he didn't understand why he never saw her again.
He wasn't sure that he even understood it now.
But the crazy week with the failing computer chip didn't allow him a moment to sleuth out where his aunt might be. He struggled with production problems during fourteen hour days in the lab, going out to lunch and dinner with lab personnel, discussing chip problems, dragging himself to the impersonal hotel late at night to fall down on the bed puzzling over chip problems.
He wondered why he didn't just buy a sleeping bag and sleep on the floor of the production lab from two to six a.m. He'd save the company some money and himself commute time.
It wasn't until the week end when a couple of his co-workers insisted on spending some time with wives and children that his memory was jogged, and he recalled his resolve to look up his Aunt Alison.
"Are you ready to put in a long week-end," one of the team asked Michael during lunch.
"No, Bob, I'm not. I've got an aunt in San Francisco I need to spend some time with."
"While some of us are working our tails off all week-end," Bob said, voice edgy.
"And I hope you enjoy yourselves immensely. But I've put in a sixty-five hour week, and I'm taking a break."
"Yeah, burn out," Bob observed.
Michael shrugged. "I realize this is a pretty revolutionary notion, but why don't you all take the week-end off? And come refreshed on Monday morning."
Bob's eyebrows went up almost into his hairline. "Yeah? But what would I do all week-end?"
Michael chuckled. "Well, I do have something to do. I haven't seen this aunt since I was about thirteen."
"Well, that's different then. You know, maybe I will take Sunday off. Do something unheard of, like read the L.A. Times, or, if they still have them, maybe I'll go see a movie. Do you know if they still have movies?"
"Yeah, rumor has it there are still movies out there somewhere. You might even ask a girl to go with you."
Bob feigned shock. "A girl? I'm not sure I'd recognize one if she came up and nibbled me on the ear. Although nothing like that has happened to me in longer than I can remember. What about you, Michael? You're a good looking guy. Have you had any girls nibbling your ear lately?"
"Nope," Michael answered, continuing the mood, but suddenly finding images of Sage in his mind. "No movies or ear nibbling for me either. We're just a couple of nerds, Bob."
"Urg! Right to my face! Have you no mercy?"
"Somebody's got to let you know."
"Thanks, pal. You may have done me a huge favor. Maybe I'll be happily married and working only eight to five come Monday morning, just because you told me these wonderful truths. I'd owe a life of happiness to you."
"They exchanged a glance. "Naw!"
Late that night Michael drug himself to his hotel room. He'd worked from six-thirty that morning until eleven at night. But he was cheerful. Tomorrow he'd spend with his Aunt Alison, if he could find her. He passed out in a deep, and for once, a non-computer chip filled, sleep.
....................................................................* *
In the morning he did an internet search for Alison Williamson, but none came up. Disappointed, he wondered whether she was not listed at all, if she took her maiden name back, or both, or even perhaps she'd re-married. Or moved away. How could he track her down? Anthony might have information about her, but neither he nor Anthony had ever brought her up since Michael moved out to the coast, and Michael had no idea what his uncle felt about his ex-wife. He didn't want to find out it was negative.
He called his mother to see if she knew anything about Alison.
The first thing she said was, "What's wrong?" It was true that he rarely called. The three hour time difference made it difficult – by the time he got home at night, it was too late to call her.
"Nothing. Everything's fine. I'm in Northern California working on a project. How's everything at your end?"
His mother assured him everything was fine and then prattled on about various members of the family and her dog.
"The reason I'm calling, mom," Michael finally got in edge-wise, "is because I was wondering... I'm close to San Francisco and I know that's where Aunt Alison was living. I was thinking about looking her up. She's not in the book under Williamson...."
"No surprise," his mother interrupted.
"So do you know anything about her? Did she take her maiden name, did she get re-married?"
"The last I knew, and it's been years, she was going by her maiden name, Morris. She's sent us a couple of Christmas cards over the years. Let me get my address book, I may have her address."
A moment later his mother gave him the last address for Aunt Alison's she'd gotten on a Christmas card several years before. After saying good-by to his mother, he googled Alison Morris. No listing. But he turned up the number for an A. Morris and dialed it.
"Hello?"
A sweet voice answered. Although he'd never heard his aunt say much, he immediately recognized her voice.
"Is this Alison Morris?"
"Speaking."
"Aunt Alison, this is Michael...Williamson...."
"Michael! Is it really? How wonderful! My goodness..." she paused for a moment, "I hope nothing is wrong?"
"No, no. Everything is just fine. Everything and everyone... in fact, I just talked with my mother to help me find you. Everyone's great, even the dog.
"The reason I'm calling is because I'm in the area. I'm up here working on a project and I remembered you live in San Francisco. I thought I'd try and see you this week end, if it's convenient, if you want to."
"I'd love to see you, Michael. I have to go downtown shopping with a friend, but I can use you as a reason to escape. I always spend too much money when I go shopping with her. Let's meet for lunch."
Michael agreed and she named a time and a place.
Several hours later, when Michael walked into the unfamiliar restaurant, his eyes adjusting to the darkness, he realized that it had been fifteen years since he'd seen his aunt, and she could be very much changed. He, of course, had been a child when she'd last seen him and so of course he was very much different.
As the maitre'd walked up to him, he noticed a beautiful blonde woman straight in front of him who looked exactly as he'd remembered Aunt Alison when he was a boy. But of course, this woman could not be her, she was far too young. And, yet, after he'd given Aunt Alison's name to the maitre'd, he was led straight to the beautiful woman's table.
"Aunt Alison?" Michael asked.
"So it is you," she replied. "Please sit. When you walked in the door, you fairly took my breath away, you look so much like Anthony when he was your age."
Michael smiled. "When I came through the door, I thought you looked like you, but I told myself that this woman is entirely too young to be Aunt Alison. I mean, I hate to discuss a lady's age, but you look maybe thirty-two, and you, ahm, can't be."
"No," his Aunt Alison laughed, "I sure cannot be thirty-two. But thank you, Michael, that's so charming."
