Chapter 2

Sage

The wind was in my hair as my arm hung from the open window of the old beat up truck I’d recently purchased. While I walked or biked a lot in San Francisco, I knew I needed something else to get me around. This old thing was the only ride I could afford, and it had seen me through the nine hours all the way here.

I was on the brink of starting a new life. These past five years had been a struggle, but nothing like when I first left home. I was a starry-eyed seventeen-year-old, a high school dropout with a desperate urge to get away from Long Beach. To get away from the gangs and the violence I had grown up in the middle of.

My mom had done the best she could have done for me, but I had always dreamt of a better life. I had dreamt of more money, of having an actual career, and of living in a neighborhood where guns didn’t go off every night. When I first moved to San Francisco, I was surprised by how it was not that very different from the neighborhood in Long Beach where I had grown up.

Small apartments, violence, people struggling to make a living…it was the same story, different city. However, the most significant difference here was that it was a land of opportunity. There were jobs, and there was potential.

Those first five years had been a struggle. I was a teenager, without a high school diploma, and I had no other choice but to pick up any and as many part-time jobs, I could get my hands on.

I did everything, from waitressing at a late-night diner to being a cleaning crew for office buildings. I had to get by. I had to make a living, and I did it…for long enough to attend night classes and finally get my high school diploma. Five years of living paycheck to paycheck, and sleeping a couple of winks on the bottom of a bunk bed in a studio apartment with four other people.

I’d saved every penny I could get my hands on, I’d shopped at thrift stores, but only when my clothes and shoes had been worn to rags. Five years later and I had a new plan. I was going to go to law school and eventually take the California bar exam.

I was working nights again, part-time jobs so that I could study during the day. I had enough money to move to a bigger studio apartment, this time with three people instead of four. I had enough to buy the books and the computer I needed, and I spent every day, when I wasn’t working, at the library.

It had taken me five years, but I’d finally done it. I had graduated law school and passed the bar exam. I was now one step closer to living my dream life. I was twenty-seven, with a law degree and the potential of getting an actual job. I knew what this entailed. I would have to spend the next decade working as an associate, which was nothing more than a glorified secretary; but at this new job I would get to my feet wet and be a part of trying cases. I’d be able to afford my own apartment, I’d be able to save for a deposit on my own house, I’d be able to wear new clothes!

And then, in ten years, when I was in the comfortable middle age of my late thirties, I’d be able to make partner at a firm or start out on my own. I could try my own cases, I could make a name for myself.

I smiled to myself as I drove through Long Beach, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel with happiness.

I hadn’t been back home in ten years. I didn’t have the time, I just couldn’t. I’d gotten addicted to my new life in San Francisco.

I called mom once every week, and I knew she waited for my phone call every Sunday afternoon. She was happy for me, she knew little about the details of my daily life, but I knew she was proud. I had promised her every year that I would visit soon, but in the past ten years, with work and school, I couldn’t find the time.

I was driving towards my old home now, that familiar neighborhood greeted me, and I could see how things had changed. The walls were still covered with graffiti, the roadside bins still overflowed with garbage but there was a scent of modernity in the air…or was I just looking at my old city through the eyes of an adult now?

Mom was sick. She’d been ill for the past two years, and now that I’d passed my bar exam and I was on the verge of starting a new life; I couldn’t make any more excuses to myself to stay away. It was going to be now or never. I had just passed the bar, and I hadn’t made any applications to law firms yet, so I figured this would be the best time to finally go visit home.

I hadn’t told mom I was coming. It was Sunday afternoon, and I knew she was going to be waiting in the kitchen for my phone call. But she was in for a surprise.

***

Mom took several minutes to open the door, but not before she had peeped outside through the thin lace curtains on the front windows, which were looking a little yellow now.

She jerked the door open and then fell on me with a loud whistling cry. I barely had the chance to place my bags on the porch before she had me in her arms.

“You’re looking good, mom,” I said with a broad smile, even though she was looking frailer than the photographs she’d sent me a couple of months ago.

“And you are looking beautiful, my baby! This is such a wonderful surprise, I can’t believe it!” mom hugged me as she led me into the old house, and I’d noticed her watery eyes. She hadn’t seen me in person in ten years, I was seventeen when I’d walked out of that door and never returned. A familiar pang of guilt shot through my abdomen. Despite my long absence, mom hadn’t once complained.

“Nothing’s changed, this is crazy,” I said, as I looked around the small living room. Mom couldn’t stop staring at me. I felt like a celebrity with her, and I went over and hugged her again.

“I wanted everything to remain exactly the same when you finally came home, and now you have!” she exclaimed, her voice muffled slightly by my hair.

“So, you can start moving things around now,” I replied with a laugh, and I followed her as she rushed into the kitchen.

“Oh, I don’t know what I have to offer you, baby. Would you like some coffee? I only have the instant kind. And I might have some cookies leftover,” mom was flustering about in the kitchen, throwing open old cupboard doors and then slamming them shut.

“I’m fine, mom, thanks. Sit down with me, coffee will do for now. Maybe later we could go out and have a nice meal. Any new restaurants opened up?” I sat down at the small kitchen table, as a wave of nostalgia washed over me. Even the wallpaper was the same, peeling at the same spots. The house smelled the same too, of coffee and baking and mom’s faint perfume.

“Oh yes, some Italian restaurants and a couple of cafes. Nothing as fancy as the ones you’re no doubt used to in San Francisco,” mom boiled water in the kettle as she spooned instant coffee into two mugs. I smiled at her lovingly.

“Italian it is then. I hope you like meatballs!” I exclaimed, and she laughed.

“I’m so happy, baby, you have no idea. I knew you’d pass that exam. You were always a smart girl,” mom commented from her position at the kitchen counter, and I tucked in some of my red hair behind my ears.

Her fridge door was covered with magnets from San Francisco that I’d sent her over the years. She’d framed a few of my photographs, and they were scattered around the walls of her kitchen.

“I knew I had to do it, and I’m happy that I passed. I figured that I’d come over and spend some time with you here before I started applying for jobs,” I replied, as mom carried over the two mugs of coffee to the table. We smiled at each other as she sat down across from me, and I reached over and squeezed her hand. I could see for myself now how weak she’d gotten, and it was beginning to break my heart.

“How are you mom?” I asked her, and she nodded her head. She was never the kind of person to complain or spend time feeling sorry for herself.

“I’m perfect, and I’ve never been happier than I am today!” she exclaimed, and I took a sip of the coffee. It used to taste fine when I lived here, now it tasted bitter and watered down. I gulped it down hurriedly, hoping that mom didn’t catch the expression of disgust on my face.

“And how is everyone else?” I asked casually, and mom shifted in her chair, getting ready to give me all the gossip she had been holding onto for the past ten years.

“Oh, where shall I begin? You know Janie is on her second pregnancy,” she said, and I raised my brows.

“With Brian?” I asked, and mom shook her head.

“Some guy from Orange County. As it turns out, even the first kid wasn’t Brian’s,” mom was chattering away happily.

“Oh, and Sally O’Shea’s husband died last year, gun to the head, flat out killed himself. What a shame, of course, their son…you know, Max, is in prison for the third time now. Or is it the fourth?” mom thought as I forced myself to drink some more of the coffee.

It was good to hear her voice, which wasn’t distorted by the phone. I allowed her the thrill she got from spilling all the gossip, stories that I wasn’t really interested in anymore.

“And Jackson…oh, I guess they call him Glock now, has turned into a strapping young man, baby. You should see him these days, taller than his father used to be and such a handsome face,” I heard her say, and I could feel the muscles in my belly tighten. I was afraid of this happening, and I kept my head down, avoiding mom’s eyes.

“Did you tell him you’re coming back? Have you seen him?” she asked and I forced myself to look up at my mother. Her eyes glowed as she looked at me and I took in a deep breath.

“No, mom, I haven’t been in touch with him. I haven’t seen him, and I’d appreciate it if we didn’t talk about him,” I said, trying to control the mix of emotions that were swelling inside me. Mom looked confused, but she smiled weakly at me and nodded. She had always been on Jackson’s side, I knew that even though she had never openly voiced her opinion.

“So, tell me about what’s going on with the Lamberts. How many of them are still living here?” I asked, in an attempt to change the subject.