Figment of my Mind

Today had been a particularly bad day at work. The stinging in my eyes from my lack of sleep hindered my ability to concentrate. “You’ve got restless leg syndrome, Jack?” My coworker, Peter, pointed to my vibrating right leg against our joined office desk. 

“Shit, sorry,” I said as I quickly pulled my knees together and fixed my posture. After a long pause, Peter reached over from his seat to pat my shoulder. “Take it easy, buddy. Let me know if there’s anything you need,” Peter smiled pitifully and continued to observe me for a few moments before shifting back into his chair. My fists were clenched, as I battled the strong urge to punch him on the side of the head.

It was the same face of sorrow and hesitation that people have been showing me for weeks, which I’ve started to find sickening.

Although I appreciated the compassion, their condolences toward Sage offended me. They spoke of her name as if she was a sad, tragic piece of history. 

One of the cutest things about Sage is that she always hated goodbyes. She’d refuse to say bye when we’d part ways, and would instead say “until next time”. When she’d say this, I’d always focus on when that “next time” would be. 

Today is that next time.

I left the office right at 5:00. My walking quickly transitioned into long, rapid strides along the busy sidewalks of the empire state. I was exhausted; everything hurt, and my heart was aching to see Sage. She was the only thing I was looking forward to all day. As I sped down the stairs toward the subway, my phone rang. 

“Hi son, would you grab milk on the way home and those bear claws for Brinley? Your charming daughter was whining about them all afternoon,” my mother’s voice came to life through the speaker.

“Sure, of course. I’ll be home in a few hours,” I replied.

“What have you been up to, Jack? Why so late?” her voice shifted to a sharp tone.

“Uh, I’ve just got an appointment with the bank after work,” I said as I slipped through the train doors. 

As I jogged up the stairs from the subway, I could feel my hands shaking from the adrenaline. I could not wait to see her beautiful face. To wrap my fingers around her curls. To smell the argan oil on her skin. To see my fulfilled reflection through the gleaming of her brown eyes. You’d think that after being in love with someone for so long, the love and desire would fade. With Sage, my love only grew. And it won’t stop growing now. 

I walked up to our old apartment building. It was old, with paint peeling off around the window frames and rusting pipes that wrapped around the perimeter. No one moved in since the incident, and no one changed the code after I moved out with Brinley. I squinted up at our apartment window on the 8th floor to see if Sage could be seen through the glass. 

I went up to the 8th floor and opened the door to the empty, dim space that was our home. I turned on the light switch to look around for her. I began to feel anxious.

“Sage, where are you?” my voice cracked.

Sage. 

Her late mother, who dedicated a big part of her life to practicing witchcraft, named her after the smoke-cleansing technique she used to perform to eliminate negative energies and spirits.

“Sage cleanses the soul,” her mother would always say. She repelled negative energy her entire existence. The pureness and comfort of her nature brought peace to those lucky enough to have been in her life. She was… supernatural.

“Hey,” Sage looked up at me and smiled as I appeared in the doorway of our old master bedroom. She sat on the edge of our plastic-covered bed, holding up an old photograph of us at our high school prom. My eyes filled with tears of relief to see her face.

“Thank God,” I gasped. I dropped my work bag and wrapped my arms around her, lifting her body from the bed. She barely held any weight, and it was difficult to translate the feeling of her skin. 

“Are you okay? You look exhausted,” she cooed, running her fingers through my hair while studying my face. 

“Never been better,” I replied with a grin. The euphoria of holding Sage in my arms was higher than any drug I’ve taken. Her soothing voice instantly brought me to peace. A large, brown stain of blood coated the carpet beside her feet.

“Work was bullshit as usual,” I said. “The entire time I was counting down to the moment I could see you.”

“Don’t you think it’s a bit early for you to be back at work?” Sage asked.

“My unpaid leave is over and I need to keep making money so Brinley and I can move out of my mom’s house,” I explained.

“Brinley, my baby,” Sage’s voice amplified with anticipation. “How is she?”

“She’s good,” I said. I pulled out my phone to show Sage a photo of Brinley from the other day, laughing with her mouth covered in whipped cream. “November 12th just passed. She’s three.”

“Happy birthday, baby Brinley,” Sage whispered as she gasped back her tears. She took my phone from my hand and repeatedly kissed the screen.

“Brinley misses you so much,” I said, then I paused. “Why don’t I bring her here tomorrow? It would make her so happy. Wouldn’t that be a great idea?”

Sage’s facial expression changed as she turned to face me. 

“Jack…” She stared at me with concern. 

“Yes, I know it might be weird at first, but she’ll be so delighted to see you again. The both of you will be over the moon! We could come to visit you here every weekend–”

“– Jack, you need to let me go,” Sage interrupted with a firm voice.

“Wait, what?” I stuttered, offended by her words. Let her go? 

“You know I’m in your head, right?” she asked. I felt speechless for a moment.

“I know that. I’m not delusional,” I replied quietly. “But maybe Brinley can see you too.”

“She can’t,” Sage responded, shaking her head. “It’s just you. You are delusional.”

“Okay then, so what?” I raised my voice, fists clenched. “I don’t care if all of this is fake and if my life is a lie; I’m happiest here with you and that’s all that fucking matters,” I reassured her. She didn’t seem satisfied with my response, as she let go of my grasp and stepped farther away from me.

“Just look at yourself, Jack. Your mental state is fragile; your pupils are dilated; you haven’t slept properly in weeks. You’re neglecting our daughter,” Sage cried.  “You need to let me go.” 

I was speechless. My pulse began to rise and my breaths became short. The idea of moving on without Sage made me feel like I was in danger, and my fight-or-flight response started to kick in. 

“I’ll try my best.” I said painfully.

It’s been five days since I’ve last seen Sage. I passively watched myself deteriorate as every day went by without visiting her at the apartment. I wanted to better myself for her, but I feel as if I am only becoming worse. Am I really delusional?

“Jack,” my coworker, Peter, interrupted my thoughts. Oh yeah, I’m at work.

“Remember that chief tech officer position I applied to in Chicago?” he asked. 

“What about it?” I replied. I didn’t have a clue what he was talking about.

“I got the job and I’m moving by the end of the year,” Jack exclaimed. “I want you to take my position as project manager.” 

My eyes widened. Peter’s job is a lot more well-paid than my sales position. This was the first good real-life news that came to me in a while.

“Thanks, Peter,” I said. “I really appreciate it.”

Whether I really deserved this position, or if this was an act of pity, was questionable. However, I had no complaints. The scattered puzzle pieces of my life felt like they may have started to piece back together.

My first instinct was to tell Sage. She’d be proud of me and see that I am making good progress. She’ll realize that I am not sabotaging my life and that she can exist in our lives and be there to watch our daughter grow. 

It was 5:00. I left the office in a hurry and walked briskly to the subway, trying my best to hide the stupid smile on my face. 

After getting off the subway, I walked toward the apartment and noticed that a light was on through our window on the 8th floor, which made me smile. I skipped up the steps and entered my code to get inside. The device made an abrupt noise and the door did not budge. Confused, I tried again. Still locked.

“I got it,” a man said as he walked in front of me and typed in his code. I walked inside the building from behind him, thanking him as I made my way to the elevator. 

I made it up to the 8th floor. To my surprise, I found the old photographs of Sage and I stashed into a recycling bin beside our door, amongst other papers and random documents of ours. What’s going on?

I gently pushed open the door that was already unlocked. I gasped at the sight of a family of four staring back at me, just as startled as I was.

“Who are you?” I stammered. My eyes quickly scanned the room for the presence of Sage as if I were a lost little boy. She was nowhere to be seen. I felt my throat dry up and my muscles grow tense.

“We just moved here. Who the hell are you?” the mother asked firmly, clutching her two children in her arms on my couch. I stared at her blankly.

“I think this is the husband of the lady that killed herself,” the man softly spoke to the mother. 

“This is my home – get the fuck out!” I yelled repeatedly, getting louder with every word. I ran past them to search for Sage in the other rooms.

“Sage, I’m here,” I cried. “Where are you? 

No response. 

I looked down on the bedroom floor and realized that the brown stains on the carpet were removed. I dropped to the floor, as my back slid down against the bed. 

“Sage, please,” I cried out with all the energy I had left. I felt defeated and lost in my own home. Everything was taken away, including her.

“I need you here,” I gasped in between sobs. “I’m homeless without you.” I looked up towards the balcony that was accessible through our master bedroom. I slowly stood up on my two feet and walked toward the glass door. 

Two police officers appeared at the bedroom doorway. I cried in distress, hand trembling on the doorknob to the balcony. My entire head felt numb and my vision became obstructed. 

“Sir, sit back down on the floor,” one officer firmly instructed. Confused and disoriented, I dropped onto the carpet where Sage’s blood used to be. I laid flat on my back, staring at the ceiling with tears streaming down the sides of my face.

Until next time.