In The Cage

by Sandy Kline

  As I hand Jake my credit card I catch his hand. “Wait, that’s you.” I say to him.

  He nods.

  “What’s your…your stage name or fighting name, whatever you call it?”

  He winks at me. “They call me The Punisher, after the comic book character. I’m here to clean house and take names…at least that’s what my promotional flyers say.”

  “But that’s you up there…but you’re here now…”

  He gives me a strange look before answering. “Yeah that was my first fight with Cold Steel. You watch I’m gonna be a star one day. Might even make a run at Surge’s guys. Top three fighters in the nation are Surge fighters.”

  I can’t believe I’m talking to the guy on TV. “That company is still around?” I ask.

  “Of course…why wouldn’t they be?”

  “Who are the top fighters for Surge?” I ask, ignoring his question.

  “King, Boomer, and Crusher, in that order.”

  Oh my god…King is still fighting…The last time I saw him he was whacked out of his mind on steroids and killing my son. And here I am fucked up in some bar while he’s sitting on top of the world. By the time Jake brings me back my credit card I’m back in a daze. Can this night get any worse? He hands me my receipt. On the bottom is a telephone number; 541-797-1121.

  “Hey uh Christine, if you ever wanna grab a coffee or lunch or something give me a call.”

  “Uh sure…yeah I’ll call.” I say as I slip off my stool and stretch my aching legs.

  Even my ass is telling me I sat way too long on that stool. As I hobble towards the door I look at the top of my receipt. I am not at the Blue Lagoon in Ashland Oregon. I’m walking out of the Carburetor, a bar in Oakland, California!

  Chapter Two

  Coming to My Senses

  As I wait for a taxi I rack my brains. I haven’t been in Oakland in ten years. After my son died I fled to Oregon to get away from King and my life in general. I swore to myself I would never return so what the hell am I doing in a bar in California? Where do I live? How long have I been back and why the hell don’t I remember these things? Someone must have given me something in that bar that really has scrambled my brains. I dig back into my purse for my wallet and ID. My driver’s license still says my address in Ashland. My keys have my house key and Honda key on my key ring. Where am I staying now? I get the feeling I didn’t just drive through town and stop at the Carburetor. I think I’ve been here for a while. I dig around my purse some more before I finally come up with a hotel card key. I’m staying at the Waterfront Holiday Inn in Oakland. That’s in Jack London Square, a waterfront market place that has various small shops, restaurants, and hotels. It’s pretty much a low key tourist place. A stone’s throw from my hotel is the ferry terminal that takes passengers to Alameda and San Francisco. At least I’m not living in an hourly fuck-a-thon motel in West Oakland.

  I get to my feet slowly as my taxi arrives. As I climb into the back I rattle off the address of the hotel and close my eyes. The world is still spinning and I can still see that fighter’s face staring down at me from the TV. If I’ve never seen him before why is it that I feel like we’ve met? I’m just about to pursue that line of thinking when another thought hammers though the fog that’s my brain and just about cracks me senseless; then I start screaming!

  “My son! Where’s my son?” Over and over I scream for Diego.

  I scream so loud and long that my cabbie actually pulls over to the side of the road and stops the car.

  “Lady, did you leave your son back there?” He asks.

  “My son…my son…I can’t find my son.”

  “Want me to call the police? Yeah, I’m gonna call the police for you.”

  He gets out his cell phone and starts to dial but I stop him and thrust a piece of paper at him.

  “What’s this?”

  “Call that number for me please?”

  “This your husband’s number?” He asks.

  “A friend. He’ll help me. Just please call him and ask him to meet me here.”

  That’s about as long as I can last before I lose control again and just start bellowing into my coat sleeve. I don’t know how long I sit here crying and calling out to my son, but pretty soon the back door opens and Jake gets in.

  I remove my face from my sleeve long enough to gasp; “my son…” before covering my swollen face in my hands.

  I must have left him in Oregon. How could I have left him there? What is wrong with me?

  “The uh…taxi guy says you can’t find your son…is that true?”

  I nod. I am so ashamed I can’t bear to look at him.

  “Don’t you think we should call the cops?”

  I shake my head. “They’ll lock me up. Look at me. I’m a wreck. I just spent hours stoned out of my mind in some bar in a whole other state from where I live and I can’t account for the last, not just a couple hours spent at the bar, but for moving here from Oregon. I can’t remember coming here and getting a hotel in Oakland. I don’t remember any of that.”

  “Hey, I bet your kid is at your hotel. Let’s go to your hotel. I’m sure you’ll find him there.”

  I nod my head miserably. ‘Yeah okay…maybe you’re right. I’ll go there. You can leave now. You don’t have to come with me.”

  “It’s okay. I want to make sure you find your son before I leave. Besides, I don’t have anything better to do.”

  “Thanks…”

  “No problem Christine.” He replies, and then says to the cab driver. “Take us to the Waterfront Holiday Inn please and hurry for her sake. She thinks maybe her son is there.”

  “No problem,” our driver says. “I hurry.”

  I close my eyes again as our taxi pulls back out into the traffic. It’s not so bad when my eyes are open, but soon as I shut them I can feel the effects of some kind of drug and it’s still pretty strong. My thoughts keep getting stuck in a single loop and I can’t think about anything else until I open my eyes again and focus on something outside. Over and over again I feel like a freight train has just bulldozed me in the forehead leaving me reeling from the shock of it. Over and over like some kind of mantra I keep hearing the words ‘I’ve lost my son…I’ve lost my son…’.

  When our taxi finally does park I can’t get out fast enough. I grab a hundred dollar bill from my purse and literally throw it at the driver and sprint to the lobby doors. Once inside I run to the elevator and stop. What floor am I on? I fish out my pass key. According to my card key I have number 423. That’s got to be on the fourth floor. I punch the elevator button as Jake runs up, extending a wad of bills in my direction.

  “You gave the man a C-note. Figured you’d want your change.”

  I take it from his hands as the doors open. I punch the number 4 button and wait anxiously for the doors to close and the elevator to get moving. I pace back and forth in the tiny space as we go up unbearably slow.

  “It’s gonna be okay.” Jake assures me.

  How he knows it’ll be okay is a mystery to me because I’m pretty sure it’s not going to be okay. By the time we pass the third floor I’m all but jumping up and down causing the elevator to shake.

  “Did you think about just calling the hotel to ask for a welfare check?” Jake asks.

  “What, and get the police involved? They’ll notify the authorities for sure.

  “But you could have called the front desk and asked them to connect you to your room and you could have spoken to him if he picked up. That would have saved you a lot of frustration and heartache.”

  “No I did not think of that and thanks for suggesting that now and not an hour ago.” I snap.

  “Hey I only just thought of it. I don’t have kids so I’m not used to thinking this way.”

  “I know…I’m sorry. I’m just freaked out about my son right now.”

  The doors open and I’m bursting out the second they’re wide enough for me to squeeze out. Jake follows in my footsteps. I glance at my passke
y again; four, twenty-three. Two more doors ahead. I skid to a stop and with my heart in my mouth I slide the key in and throw open the door. I charge in, flipping on the light as I go. Sitting in the solitary chair is a woman I have never seen before.

  “What the hell…” I stop myself.

  I was just about to ask what the hell she is doing in my hotel room but that would be crazy. She is obviously the sitter I hired. I hurry back to the only bedroom in the suite and quietly open the door. Lying beneath the covers is my son safe and sound. Suddenly my knees go weak and I’m about to fall so I lurch over to the side of the bed where I drop to my knees painfully on the thin carpet floor. I reach out and place my hand on Diego’s cheek. It’s warm. He’s safe, sound, and sleeping deeply. I open my mouth to say something but find I just can’t speak. Tears come like somebody turned on a water faucet and I can’t get the thing to turn off. I have no idea how long I knelt there stroking my son’s head and weeping with relief. I don’t even hear when Jake and the sitter leave. I just find a note next to the phone.

  Christine,

  I settled up with your sitter. No need to pay me back. I’m just glad to see that your son is safe and you’re okay. Still like to have that coffee though.

  Jake

  I look at the clock. It’s almost six in the morning. The sun will be coming up in a couple hours and Diego will be awake wanting to play. He’s not one to sleep in even on non-school days. With great care I crawl up onto the bed and put my arm around my only living son. Content that he is perfectly safe I close my eyes again and fall to sleep. The last thing I remember thinking is about the blond haired blue eyed fighter. The honest, loyal, and whatever guy that I saw on TV which is weird because I’m not one to go gaga over some guy I’ve just met or seen on TV no matter his qualities.

  “Momma…wake up…come on mom I’m hungry.”

  Never have I been so happy to hear that voice. I stretch and open my eyes. My son is leaning over me looking into my face. I grab him and pull him to me giving him a fierce mamma bear, bear hug while smothering him with kisses. He has always been very affectionate with me; both my children have and I cherish every moment he lets me hug and hold him because I know some day he’ll be too old for his mother’s hugs and kisses.

  “I missed you last night.” I say to him.

  “Then why’d you stay out so late?”

  “Mommy lost track of time sweetie.”

  “Okay. Now can we go eat I’m starving.”

  “Yeah there’s a café not far from here. We can sit and eat breakfast and watch the boats come and go.”

  “Yeah!” He shouts enthusiastically. He grabs his coat and hat and waits impatiently for me to put on my shoes and coat.

  “What’s that on your jacket?” He asks, pointing to the bottom of my jacket.

  I look down and I just about faint. There’s a large patch of what can only be blood! Why is there blood on my coat? I do my best to cover my alarm.

  “Oh yeah… mommy accidently leaned against a wall that just got painted. Totally forgot about it.”

  He laughs. “Looks like blood don’t it. Come one mom, you can tell me. Who’d you kill last night?”

  I force myself to smile and laugh but inside panic is building. What if I did kill someone? I pull off the coat and fold it up and shove it in my suitcase. Instead I pull out a heavy sweater and pull in on over my tee shirt. This’ll have to do until I can buy another jacket.

  “Alright honey, let’s go eat.

  Chapter Three

  Déjà vu

  While walking hand in hand with Diego I make a solemn vow. I will never smoke another joint as long as I live. Not only that I will never go to another bar and order another drink that I did not by and pour and drink by myself. I don’t know if it was something I did smoke last night or if somebody slipped some roofies or something similar in my drink but I can’t take that chance again. I should have asked Jake for more information about my drinking companions last night too. I doubt he’d know more than he told me though. It was a super busy night. He must have served three hundred customers or more before his shift was up. How’s he going to remember what I was up to other than to give me and my friends more drinks? I still feel a little disorientated even now. That must have been some powerful stuff I took to still be wreaking havoc some ten hours later. Then there’s the big question of the day. What the hell am I doing back in Oakland California? After I buried Ethan I completely left the state and swore never to return but here I am back in Oakland and there must be a reason. Hopefully when the drugs are completely out of my system I’ll remember.

  “Mom…mom…earth to mom.” Diego calls to me.

  “Oh sorry sweetie, I was just lost in thought.”

  “Just now? Or do you mean the whole breakfast?”

  Startled, I look around. The two plates sitting in front of me are empty save for the remnants of French toast, eggs, and hash browns; my favorite breakfast. I don’t even remember eating. What is wrong with me?

  “What’s wrong mom? You haven’t heard a single word I’ve been saying.”

  “I’m just tired honey. I stayed out way too late. I haven’t done that since-”

  “Since you were gone the night before last, and the night before that and the two nights before that?”

  What the hell? I’m about to argue that I have been home every night but last night but now I’m not so sure. If I have been gone like he says, where have I been and what have I been up to? I’m dying to ask Diego how long we’ve been back in California but I’m pretty sure a question like that is going to totally freak him out. The last thing a ten year old wants to worry about is his mom losing her mind.

  “I’m sorry Diego…no more late nights I promise. It’s just you and me now and I’m staying home.”

  “That’s what you said two weeks ago mom.”

  “What?” Now I’m really scared.

  “Just kidding mom. Geez that really freaked you out.”

  “Got you didn’t I?” I pretend to be playing a joke.

  He smiles and kinda laughs but I don’t think he believes me. What the hell have I been doing going out every night and leaving my son with some strange sitter all night long?

  I’m about to suggest going to the latest Batman movie when the widescreen TV in the café breaks from its morning programming for breaking news. The volume is turned too far down for me to hear it but from the pictures I can figure it out. Some news announcer is talking about two men pictured on the screen. Underneath the pictures are their real names but I know them simply as King and Boomer!

  Now I am really freaking out. Both men are listed as missing and I turn up back in California with blood on my jacket and the inability to account for the last five days of my life. Can you say murder? Did I really come to Oakland and track down and murder both men? Despite what they did to me am I really capable of that? Right now the news brief just lists them as missing and is pleading for any information as to their whereabouts. I half expect to see my picture up there as a person of interest. When the station returns to the football game in process I’m relieved. How much time do I have before the cops come knocking on my door?

  My first impulse is to call Taylor but something keeps me from doing just that. Jake described her to a tee last night. Why the hell would she up and leave me by myself. The other strange thing here is that I can’t for the life of me remember how we met or if we really are good friends or just acquaintances. I need to call Jake. I have to talk to someone and he’s the only one I can think of at the moment. I’ll take Diego to the park and while he’s playing I’ll call Jake and feel him out. I need to find out what kind of person he is. Actually I think I already know that.

  “Okay sweetie, let’s go to the park.”

  Diego’s eyes light up. I lay a twenty and a ten on the table and collect up my purse. We’re just walking out when my phone rings. Without thinking I answer.

  “Hello?”

  “Christine, this is Jake.�
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  “Hi Jake, how are you? And by the way thanks for settling things with the sitter. What do I owe you?”

  “Lunch…or at least coffee.”

  “Coffee.” I reply. But at the place of my choosing.”

  “Okay.”

  I’m at the corner of 21st Avenue and Garnet. There’s a kids park here and I’m sitting watching Diego. You wanted to have coffee with me. Well here’s your chance. I’m sitting nearby the taller of the two climbing structures. I’d like a Grande Café Mocha with an ad shot, please.”

  “Coming right up.” Jake replies cheerfully. I’ll see you in about a half hour.”

  When Jake finally walks up I am seriously in need of it and the eye candy his presence provides me. This afternoon he wearing a pair of relaxed fit, boot cut Levi jeans and a white athletic cut tee shirt.

  “You done staring?” He asks. “Wait, how about, take a picture it’ll last longer.”

  “I’m afraid you might break the camera.” I reply.

  “That’s not what your eyes are tellin’ ya.”

  “Oh? And what do you think my eyes are telling me?’

  “They’re wondering when you can get the kid outta here so you can tap this ass.” He replies.

  “Oh my god I’m actually wondering how long I gotta sit here pretending to enjoy the coffee before I can disinvite you.” I reply.

  “Hey it’s a free country.” He says. “And a free park.”