Hidden Memories (22 page)

“That should work if she doesn’t go out of town or anything.”

“I checked her calendar, and the thirteenth is wide open,” Ava said. “That’s three Saturdays before her wedding.”

“We’ll have it at my house,” Tawny offered.

“She’ll expect that. What about Elise’s?”

“I’m sure she won’t mind. I’ll ask her.”

“But how do we get her there?” Ava asked.

Tawny shrugged her shoulders. “We’ll think of something. Maybe we can get Ramion to help.”

“You know we got to have a stripper, girl,” Ava said, her eyes gleaming. “Somebody fine, with a hard body.”

“A friend of mine knows some strippers. I’ll find out how much they charge.”

“Make sure they know to climb all over Sage. She’ll be so embarrassed. I can’t wait to see her face.” She paused, her face lighting up with a devilish grin. “Ooh, ooh, we have to get it on tape.”

“She’ll die,” Tawny said, laughing heartily.

“I’ll get the invitations. We’re talking about twenty-five people, right?”

“Uh-huh, I’ll give you names and addresses.”

“What about food?” Ava asked.

“Shrimp, wings, some kind of casserole, daiquiris…”

“Margaritas,” Ava added to the list.

“Margaritas?” Sage inquired as she slid into the chair next to Ava. “They serve alcohol here?”

“No, I just got a taste for one,” Ava said, shifting her feet and fanning her face with her hands. “This place is crazy; it’s a zoo.”

“I know. I’m dying of thirst from talking to everyone,” Sage said.

“I see you have two bags of goodies,” Tawny said, noticing the shopping bags filled with samples and promotional items.

“Everybody has something to give away or something to entice you to their booth. Talk about hard sells, they wanted to set up appointments,” Sage said, fanning herself with a brochure.

“Trying to get you while they can. Did you see anything, or did you just get more confused?” Tawny asked Sage.

Sage giggled. “Yes to both. I know what china I want, and I narrowed down the invitations.”

“Well, that’s progress,” Tawny said.

“What about your gown?” Ava asked.

An impish grin curled Sage’s lips. “I found out about another store that sells gowns. It’s in Gwinnett.” She flicked her wrist to look at her watch. “It’s only two o’clock, Ladies. We can be there in an hour.”

Ava and Tawny exchanged exasperated looks.

“Girl, I’m not used to all this shopping,” Tawny complained. “Stan couldn’t believe that I was up and dressed by ten thirty.”

“Yes, but you were supposed to be ready at ten o’clock,” Sage chided.

Ava thought about protesting, but she didn’t have anything else to do. Besides, she wanted to make sure Sage didn’t pick a gown that was too traditional, hideous or plain, her words of warning when they’d begun this search for the perfect wedding gown. Ava sighed. “At least feed us.”

“Okay,” Sage said. “We have fifteen minutes.”

* * * * *

The alarm sounded as Sage opened the kitchen door, her arms ladened with her purse, briefcase and grocery bags. With thirty seconds to deactivate the alarm, she quickly set the bags on the kitchen countertop and turned it off.

“Ava,” she called from the bottom of the stairs. Concerned about Ava’s mood swings lately, Sage decided to surprise her with her favorite meal—lasagna. She planned to prepare the meal herself but, after a late meeting at the state capitol, she’d made a quick stop at Harry’s Farmers Market and bought some ready-made lasagna and groceries.

After putting the groceries into the refrigerator and cabinets, Sage transferred the lasagna from the plastic container to a casserole dish and put it in the microwave. She placed two geometric-patterned plates, salad bowls, silverware and wineglasses on the table, then mixed up a salad of romaine lettuce, tomatoes, eggs, croutons, bacon bits and shredded cheddar cheese.

Setting the timer on the microwave to ten minutes, she left the kitchen. Before going through the living room to her bedroom, she called up the stairs, “Ava, come eat.”

Sage took off her olive pantsuit, hung it in the closet and slipped into her silk lounging pajamas. She washed her face and hands before returning to the kitchen, expecting to see Ava pinching on the food. Her eyes veered to the clock, noting that it was only eight o’clock, too early for Ava to be sleeping. Ah, she thought, snapping her fingers. Time for Ava’s favorite television show,
Martin
.

A strong offensive odor whiffed at Sage’s nose when she reached the top of the stairs. The skunk-like smell grew stronger as she neared her sister’s bedroom. She knocked on Ava’s door several times. Assuming that Ava couldn’t hear her because of the blaring television, Sage opened the door. What she saw sent a sharp pain to her stomach: Ava inhaling a joint clenched between her teeth. “Ava, what the hell are you doing?”

“Shit!” Ava mumbled as she quickly snuffed out the joint in an ashtray. Ava looked guiltily at her sister, feeling like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Ava opened her mouth to explain, but she couldn’t lie or deny what she’d been doing.

Sage was dumbfounded. “Ava, I don’t believe you’re doing drugs! Marijuana! I just don’t believe it!” She grabbed the television remote and pressed the Mute button.

“Sage, don’t trip. Please don’t trip,” she pleaded with her sister. “I get high every now and then. It’s not an everyday thing.” Ava removed the top from a can of air freshener and began spraying the room.

“It doesn’t matter how often. You shouldn’t be getting high at all. You never did it before, so why now?”

Ava sat back on the bed, thinking about the reasons she indulged in the “pleasure principle”. That’s what she called it. Marijuana made her feel good. But she knew Sage would never understand that kind of feeling. You had to feel it, be under its awesome influence, to understand the pleasure that could be derived from inhaling the toxic weed. “I do it because it feels good. Isn’t that why most people get high?”

“We’re not talking about other people. We’re talking about you!” Sage screamed, pointing her finger at Ava.

“Maybe I do it to escape reality. I don’t like to think about my father dying from that horrible disease.”

Sage stared at her sister, her eyes devoid of empathy. “I know it hurts, Ava. But that is no reason to do drugs. How would Aaron feel if he knew?”

“He’d freak out.”

“And Mama?”

“She’d freak out big-time.”

“I can tell you not to do this because it would hurt them. But this is about you. How you deal with life. How you deal with hurt. Life can be very painful, but you have to face up to whatever happens and deal with it. Rise above it. Developing an addiction to escape pain only creates more pain.”

Ava put up her hands. “It’s just reefer,” she said, shrugging her shoulders.

“I don’t like you doing drugs. Period,” Sage said. Shifting from anger to concern, she added, “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“It’s not like I get high every day,” Ava defended herself weakly.

“Where’d you get it?”

“Why, Sage? Nobody you know. Everybody gets high in Atlanta.”

Sage shook her head. “That’s bullshit, Ava.”

“Some of the people I hang out with do.”

“Marika?” Sage asked, although she would be truly shocked if Ava answered affirmatively.

“No way,” Ava said flippantly. “Kelly and some of the girls I hang with from the sports club.”

Sage nodded her head, remembering their brief introduction months ago. “Maybe you shouldn’t hang out with them.”

“It’s not like I have a whole lot of friends here.”

“Give yourself some time.”

“Look, Sage, I’m not strung out. I don’t smoke every day. Mostly when I go out. I’m a recreational user, so you don’t have to worry about putting me in some kind of rehab program.”

“Maybe this is recreation for you today. But what about tomorrow? Once you get started, you crave it more and more. Or you move on to more addictive drugs.”

Ava rolled her eyes. “Don’t play the commercials for me. I know the deal,” she said, and slid off the bed. “I’m in control of this.”

“You’re not in control if you have to use drugs.” She inched over to Ava and stood directly in front of her. “The point is, I don’t want you to stay in control. I want you to stop! Just say no. Just stop.”

“Please, Sage. Don’t give me that ‘just say no’ crap.”

“I’m serious, Ava. I care about you. You’re my sister, and I love you. I don’t want anything to happen to you because what you’re doing is dangerous.”

“I hear you loud and clear.” Ava turned away and moved over to the dresser. She pushed some of the open drawers closed. “But I’m grown, and I’m going to do what I want.”

Sage glared at her sister, fighting the temptation to grab her by the shoulders and shake some sense into her.
What more can I do?
she thought.
She’s grown. I can’t run her life, but neither can I let her destroy it.

Ava could see the struggle her sister was waging with her thoughts and feelings. She’d never wanted her to know she was using. More than anything, Ava didn’t want to hurt her.

“I will tell you this one time only,” Sage said. “Don’t do drugs in my house or anywhere around me. I’m not going to tolerate it!”

Ava stared at her sister, uncertain how to respond to her righteous anger. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen Sage this upset. Suddenly she was ashamed. “I’m sorry.”

Sage nodded, hoping Ava was sincere. More than anything, she wished Ava wouldn’t use drugs again.

“What did you come busting in here for anyway?” Ava asked, changing the conversation.

“To tell you that dinner was ready. I bought lasagna.”

“Thanks, sis. You are so good to me,” Ava said, rubbing Sage’s shoulders.

“Don’t try to sweet-talk me. You need to stay away from those drugs. It’s that simple.”

Ava released a weary I-thought-this-conversation-was-over sigh. “You never indulged?”

Sage hesitated. “When I was in college, a couple of times.”

The revelation sparked Ava’s attention. “I knew it. You’re too cool to have always been so straight.”

“I smoked a little reefer to be sociable. I can count on my hands the number of times I did. I could never even roll a joint.”

“Want me to teach you?” Ava joked.

“That’s not funny, Ava.”

“I don’t know how either,” Ava said. “I was just trying to make you laugh.”

“Let me put it to you in terms you can understand. Don’t go there. You may not find your way back. Do you feel me?”

“I hear you,” Ava said sheepishly, her eyes cast downward. She felt like a chastised parishioner.

“I sincerely hope you do, girl.”

“I’m okay, Sage, really.”

Sage raised both hands in an end-of-conversation gesture. “I’ve said what I had to say. Now it’s up to you.”

* * * * *

The camera zoomed in on Sage as she nervously clasped her hands in her lap. For her television appearance on the
Good Morning Atlanta
talk show, she was dressed in a short-waisted bolero-cut purple jacket and matching calf-length skirt with a knee-high split. Her hair was full and curly, draping her shoulders.

Erica Jayes, host of the morning talk show, gave Sage a reassuring smile. “Remember to look at the camera,” Erica said.

Sage crossed her legs at the ankles as the production assistant signaled “action” with the tilt of her fingers. The cameras were rolling.

“Good morning, Sage,” said Erica, a slender black woman with a tapered haircut. “Thank you for joining us this morning.”

“It’s great to be here,” Sage responded with a warm smile. “Especially to talk about the new flag.”

“The flag has been controversial for a long time, but that’s all behind us now because voters can vote for the flag of their choice.”

“That’s right, Erica. Voters have a unique opportunity to vote for the design of their choice. This will be the first time in Georgia history that citizens can decide what the state flag will look like.”

“Well, it certainly has gotten us a lot of national attention,” Erica said with a friendly chuckle.

“It certainly has.”

“So tell us about the new designs,” Erica prompted.

“There are two designs. And I brought both samples with me.” She waved the two miniature flags. “As you can see, the stars on flag A run diagonally across the stripes and, on flag B, the stars create a circle.”

“Which one do you prefer?”

Sage tilted her head to the side and said, “I haven’t decided. But what’s important is that voters get out there and vote for the flag
they
like.”

Erica nodded. “Polls show that only forty percent of registered voters plan to get out to the polls.”

“We’re hoping to increase those numbers. That’s why we’re launching a campaign to encourage voter participation. We hope people respond to ‘It’s a New Flag Day’.”