Sqerm. James A Moore
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Chuck stopped the physical violence, but the diatribe continued. “See, boy…you’re soft. You let those boys take your bike. You gone’ lose everything. That’s probably why ya daddy left…”
Seeming disturbed by the most recent comment, Sage’s mother intensified her tone. “Chuck, that’s enough,” she reiterated.
Sage was glad that his mother appeared at the time that she did as he knew that the situation could have been much more difficult. As he was leaving the room, Chuck was mumbling.
“You lucky yo’ mama was here. Always having a woman save you. Pitiful…”
Chapter 2
Sage continued to slumber in his mildly comfortable position in his office but did not awaken. He was slumped over his desk and would likely wake with what he had dubbed waffle butt on his face when he comes to. But for now, his nightmare was not over; it continued.
Sage sat in a park with Vickie. Vickie was in her late twenties, attractive, and brunette. Her hair fell down on her shoulders in medium-sized curls. Her skin was a golden olive and had always reminded Sage of a warm sunset. Her perfume was fragrant and earthy like a jasmine tea. The two of them lay on a blanket with fresh fruit, cheese, and wine neatly placed on a platter. The wine glasses balanced on small slates. The golden rays of the sun combined with the effervescence of the wine to create a miniature kaleidoscope, and the show danced silently on the blanket. Sage lay on his back with his head in her lap, and she was gently rubbing his head with one of her perfectly manicured hands. She was using the other arm to lean back and brace her body. Sage had always found Vickie’s head rubs relaxing and safe. He took a deep breath and cogitated about just how fortunate he was.
Vickie looked down at Sage and said, “You know, Sage, you shouldn’t feel bad. You got out of the situation in one piece. Look at you now.”
“I know, babe. Love you…” Sage sat up, looked at Vickie, and slowly leaned in for a kiss. Before the kiss could be initiated…in the distance, the sinister laugh of Chuck could be heard in this horrible dream.
“You gone’ lose everything…”
Chapter 3
A startled Sage awoke in his bedroom. For a moment, he was lost and could not remember how he got to his bedroom. His ear was itching uncontrollably. He sat up and did his best to put a finger in his ear in a vigorous attempt to scratch at the overwhelming inner-ear itch. As he struggled to reach the sweet spot, the itching suddenly subsided. He wiped his brow and reached for a water vessel that was on a nightstand near his bed. He took a long sip, but the tepid temperature of the water did little to quench his thirst. He winched himself out of bed and slowly made his way to his home office. He lazily plopped into his captain’s chair. The air in the cushions slowly, quietly hissed as it sought an escape. He reached toward his computer screen, hit the power button, and clicked on a web browser set to a news site. He began slowly scrolling through the various stories on the site.
A particular link caught his attention, and he clicked on it to access the site. It was a story that contained details regarding another murder in his city. He thought about the oddity that a story would start with the phrase another murder. He was interested and intrigued. He began to click away on the keyboard in a search for more detailed information. The sun started to show through the curtains, and an alarm on his phone sounded. The night had slipped past him.
He reluctantly shut off the screen and began to prepare for work. He headed to the kitchen, washed his hands, and began to make some coffee in a French press. He took a moment to select a piece of fruit from the fridge and rinse it. It was an apple, but not just an apple—his favorite, a Pink Lady. He paid particular attention to the act of drying it and sat it on a napkin on his counter.
Having prepped his morning snack, Sage went to his bedroom and opened his closet. There were casual shirts, dress shirts, and slacks. Everything was neatly organized and was neatly ironed. In the far right of the corner, there were two items not generally found side by side—a set of Marine Corps dress blues with sergeant stripes and the robe and tam of a doctor. He selected his clothing for the day: a white dress shirt and navy-blue pants. Next was a matching tie from a bundle that hung in the closet. He subconsciously aligned all his clothing items on his bed, being sure to smooth them with his hands. Sage smiled at his handiwork and to himself as he exited the bedroom and entered his moderately sized bathroom. He twisted the handle of the shower and let the sound of water hitting the shower floor and walls relax him. As a child, Sage did not find this sound relaxing; it was just noise. Now, he took pleasure in the uncomplicated activity of listening to the water run. He dropped to the ground to do a few push-ups.
Chapter 4
Sage stood at the sink in the kitchen and filled a portable cup with what most would have thought to be cream and sugar garnished with coffee. He grabbed the apple and the napkin and then headed for the door. There was a brief pause to look at a bike in his garage. It was rare that he rode it; he tended to favor jogging at this point in his life. Jogging was stress relieving; it prepared him, and it kept him in shape.
He turned toward his vehicle. It was a late-model mid-sized SUV that he found comfortable. Once inside, he secured himself with the seat belt. It clicked audibly; he tugged on the belt to adjust and snug the tension. Around the rearview mirror dangled a thin, simple gold chain. Attached to the chain was a capital letter V. He turned on the radio and switched it from a news channel to a station that played music. He listened to the light music as he made his way to the college where he worked. He paid little attention to the traffic and eventually found himself in the parking lot. He had gone right brain and did not remember much of the drive.
He put the car in park, opened his sunshades, and secured them in the windshield with the vehicle’s sun visors. The heat of the day was already building, and the thought of holding a hot steering wheel did not appeal to him. He grabbed his lanyard from the console, but the attached ID card had become wedged between the seat and console and had impeded his progress. He leaned into the vehicle to free it, being careful not to spill his creamy ambrosia. Once the card was free, he threw the lanyard over his neck and righted himself. He looked in the mirror and adjusted his tie. He drew his hand down the length of it, smoothing it. He left the vehicle and briskly walked to the security checkpoint where a guard in his late forties sat at a desk reading newspapers. Sage showed his badge and smiled at the guard. The guard beamed a smile back. The guard considered Sage a friend; Sage considered the guard an acquaintance.
“Good morning, Professor Weiss.”
“Good morning, Hal,” said Sage.
“Hey, Professor…did you hear about the new condos going in downtown?”
“No, I didn’t. Kind of out of it this week.”
“Man, one day—that’ll be me.” The guard pointed at the condos, then handed Sage the paper. “Here, take my copy,” said Hal.
“Thanks, Hal.” Sage grabbed the newspaper, folded it under his arm, and walked to his classroom. Once inside the room, he observed the students filing in. Some of the students greeted him, and he proffered greetings back to them.
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