DISCLAIMER: Foul language to be sure. Private family matters of a sexual nature. Some violence. Sex of assorted varieties. Did I mention violence? Rich people, poor people, smart people, stupid people, and other people. If you like the way I write give it a chance. Let me know what you think about it.
RED SOX: At the moment I'm preparing this, they are in Game 5 of the ALCS. I still BELIEVE.
by phair
June 1999
Sage raced up the mahogany stairs to her sister's room. She felt the need to burn her raging teenage emotions in bursts of physical tasks. The more her muscles ached in fatigue the more her mind shut down her grief.
In spite of their enormous wealth, the Sebastian family had provided to the lanky fourteen year old only one luxury which matter; her older sister Brook. The twenty seven year old was everything to Sage; best friend, confidant, protector.
"And now, she's getting married and leaving me for good," Sage whispered as she gazed at her sister's nearly empty room.
Sage and Brook had spent the day packing her most precious items. The parts of the older girl's life which were far too valuable to trust to movers. Report cards and medical record went in the fireproof file box. Awards and trophies were carefully swathed in bubble wrap and doubled boxed. Photo albums and scrap books were lightly boxed with only two or three in each for easy carrying. Then each box was placed lovingly in the back of Brook's Land Rover.
Sage crossed the room to the framed picture on the nightstand. It was of Brook holding Sage as an infant. Brook was about the same age Sage was now at that very moment in time. Yet, Brook was confident and appeared infinitely happy.
Sage was almost the exact opposite. Dark and tall and awkward and shy and often angry, Sage thought of herself as her parents' late life mistake. She considered herself little more than a product of a failed birth control devise or, worse, the result too much to drink at a liberal fundraiser. The young girl clearly understood she was an unplanned arrival produced almost fourteen years after the Joachim Granville Sebastian and Simone Sydney-Sebastian presented to their high society circle their fourth and intended last child, Brookfield Sydney-Sebastian. For Sage there were days only Brook's reassurance could ease Sage's sullen mood into a more congenial manner. She believed her older sister was the only one who really understood her.
"And, she's leaving me," Sage felt the tears welling as she lifted the treasured picture from the nightstand.
"Caught you slacking!" Brook sprung into the room and shouted.
Sage jumped. In her surprise, she dropped the picture. The shatter of glass followed.
"Oh God, no!" Sage's tears sprung free as she dropped to her knees to gather the broken pieces.
"Careful, sweetie," Brook cautioned as she hurried over to help, "be careful you don't get hurt."
Sage picked up the splintered frame and the picture under the broken glass fell away. Beneath was a second photograph. It was an image Sage had never seen before. The same teenaged Brook was standing on the steps of her parents' summer home in Maine. Brook's face was drawn and her features puckered in a somber glare much like Sage's usual countenance. Both her hands were folded over her protruding belly.
"You were pregnant?" Sage questioned without looking up from the picture.
Brook reached out and placed a shaking hand on Sage's shoulder, "I never wanted you to know. I'm sorry; I should never have saved that picture. You deserve so much better than to find out like this."
Sage's head started to spin as she realized what that statement really meant. Her ears began to ring. For a moment, Sage thought she might pass out.
"You…you're, you're my mother? Aren't you?" Sage finally looked up at Brook and saw the truth in her eyes before the other woman could even form the words.
"Girls, what's going on? I heard a glass break," Simone was at the doorway.
Sage's temper reared up, "You pretended all this time. You and him pretended I was your daughter but I'm not, am I? I'm her daughter. Just a little mistake you wanted to cover up. It's true isn't it! I'm not your daughter, I'm your granddaughter!"
Simone squared her shoulders and attempted to stare the young girl down even though Sage was a good five inches taller than herself, "It's true. You are my granddaughter. You're Brook's daughter."
Sage was horrified at the admission. She didn't know who to hate more. Simone was a good choice for lying to her for so many years. Brook, however, didn't trust her with the secret. Sage decided to swallow down her own version of the truth; it was her fault for even existing that caused the deceit.
In a fit of blind fury, Sage pushed passed Simone and raced down the stairs. She jumped down the last three and dove toward the open front door. There were shouts from behind her but she was too embarrassed or angry or both to listen. With long strides, she tore across the front lawn. The street lay before her and she darted for the other side. Only the squeal of brakes followed by a heavy thud stopped her mindless escape.
Sage whipped around to see the accident behind her. Brook lay limp on the hood of a stark white Mercedes-Benz. Taking two steps back toward the scene, Sage saw the vibrant splash of red beginning to stream from under Brook's paling face.
"I've killed her," Sage gasped in despair. "God forgive me, I killed my only friend."
"SAGE! Come back here now!" Simone shouted as she made her way to the street corner. "S…" Simone's call died on her lips when she saw Brook's body lying on the hood of the car. "Sage? Come here, to me," Simone spoke quietly as she lifted her hand in the younger woman's direction.
Sage did not wait for the accusations to follow. She bolted from the horrible sight and her own guilt. Running as fast as her legs would carry her, Sage ignored the calls to return home. She ran blindly toward the setting sun like some sort of hunted thing.