O Sabato

“I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to...” she said as the older woman approached her from behind. Lisa spoke slowly and deliberately asking her “Why did you open my “little black book”...and how much have you read?”

The young woman, Chloe, turned and looked at her wide eyed and flushed, thinking, now she knows that I know her secret...she stated, “I didn’t...well, I have to admit...I finished only the first few pages. It was so intense that when I started to think about what I was reading...” her voice began to trail off and she started again.

“I stopped - and then, you startled me.”

The older woman, Lisa, stared at her pensively and stated,

“Well Chloe, I hired you for one purpose…you are to help me take care of this place, but now I see that you have decided to take liberties beyond my control. Why did I agree to hire you anyway? Have I made a mistake?”

After a weighted silence she then said,

“I see you have decided to enter into my private world...albeit without my consent, but, alas... I will share my story with you. Go and get a down comforter for me, turn on the fire, bring my Earl Grey tea and one of the buttery croissants that Crystal dropped off this morning. Yes, we will have a talk.”

Chloe swiftly and dutifully brought what was requested. She helped Lisa to get comfortable on the red velvet chaise, fluffing the soft pillows behind her head. Gently covering her with the down comforter. Her nerves caused the tea to slosh around in its cup as she placed it on the beautiful gilded gold tray next to the warm buttery croissant from the kitchen. She then sat in the room on the loveseat across from her, watching the rain drops slowly streak down the window, listening to the crackling of the fire which was softly ablaze. She was too intimidated to make eye contact. The feeling in the room was heavy and intense. Chloe felt somewhat embarrassed and flustered because she knew the enormity of her indiscretion. The silence was deafening. She has entered into a world for which she had no right to be involved and has no idea where it would end.

Lisa then asked Chloe to bring her the “little black book”.

She opened it and silently read a couple of pages slowly. After a long pause, Lisa softly spoke,

“I will take you on a journey back with me to 1981, right here in Cleveland on East 131st Street.”

Chloe interrupts, “that’s right around the corner.”

Lisa clears her throat, and in that moment Chloe quickly discerns not to interrupt. “Yes, now think about the 15A bus line and where that leads...do you know?”

Chloe answered “yes, that’s the bus line that takes you downtown to Public Square.”

“Yes, yes, it is, that’s the line that I was taking when something profoundly unusual happened that was life changing”.

Lisa sips the tea and takes a bite of her croissant staring into the crackling fire.

“It was a cold, blustery winter morning. I got on the bus that Monday morning as normal, bleary-eyed, trying to wake up. I was heading toward work downtown at the federal building. I sat about five rows from the front, in an aisle seat. It was the general crowd of people coming, many familiar faces on the bus. Quickly, all of the seats were filled. A young woman, strikingly beautiful with bronzed skin, a glorious head wrap and piercing black eyes got on the bus. She was carrying a knapsack and a bundle. That bundle was a beautiful baby boy. Our eyes met as she stood in the aisle beside me. I looked up at her and made eye contact.” “I asked if she would like to sit down? She told me, ‘no, but could you please hold my baby.’

‘Yes,’ I agreed. The infant was wrapped tightly in a blanket. He was a beautiful warm bundle. At first the baby was asleep, but the agitation of the bus on the asphalt caused the baby to open his eyes. I looked deeply into his piercing black eyes with black curly hair and golden brown skin.

My heart melted.

I instantly loved this infant that was placed in my arms. The bus continued on its journey for a few more blocks. People continued to enter into the bus for their daily commutes. I did give them much attention—I was only focused on the baby so intently that I did not notice that the woman was moving farther and farther away from me, further down the aisle toward the back of the bus.

I now, rhythmically rocked the baby, humming a “maternal” melody. I remember feeling intrinsically that our hearts had started to beat in sync. The baby was fixated and staring into my eyes. So benevolent and peaceful. I was caught up in his rapture.

Suddenly, I happened to look out of the window only to see the baby’s mother running on the sidewalk outside of the bus! She ran past, turning right at the next corner and disappeared from my view.”

Chloe abruptly interrupted, “What! She left you with the baby?“

Lisa stares and looks out of the window, eyes wild, continuing with the story,

“Yes, I was startled! It was instant panic! I jumped up and screamed to the bus driver, ‘Stop stop! The baby’s mother has turned down the street. She’s left her baby! - we have to catch her!’ The bus driver immediately went off route and turned right at the corner. The mother was now running frantically up the street. The bus driver caught up to her, passed her and abruptly stopped. He opened the doors for me to exit. Everyone in the bus at this point is silent watching this drama unfold. I exited the bus holding the baby - trembling - not noticing that the baby’s shoe had fallen off. I am screaming to the mother ‘Wait wait! How could you leave your baby?’ The woman stopped running and I saw that she had tears streaming down her face. looked at me sobbing and said, ‘I thought you could do this...I’ve been watching you on the bus everyday for months. I thought you would be the one to take care of my son. Life gave me an opportunity to give him to you. I don’t know if I can do this anymore.’ She reached out and I placed him in her arms. I locked eyes with him once more, my own tears flowing. She continued to sob.

“I gave ‘my son’ away that day. I know you may think: ’But, he was never your son, it was only a moment or a circumstance...’”

Lisa sips the tea, and goes on,

“Aye, but, some things, I know. What was more intense,” she pauses, “is that when I went back on the bus, in my seat was his shoe, O Sopato. It was just lying there on the seat... the only vestige I have to remember the day that I gave my son away... My boy...my beautiful baby boy. Wanting and needing to bond with him has continued to be my life‘s journey until this day. My heart yearns and searches for him. The black book tells this story and many different endings I had imagined of how life could have been so different had I not looked out of the window and saw the woman, his mother, running away from this precious gift.”

“Oh my, oh my”…gasps Chloe with tears streaming down her face.

“Thank you for sharing such an intense, and intimate part of your life‘s journey. As I was listening to you my heart was gripped. I am stunned! Why? My grandmother, NaNa Carla, has a shoe, O Sopato, as you call it - it looks like the match. It is from my dad Ramon when he was a baby. I asked NaNa why she kept only one baby shoe on her on her living room shelf; only one shoe? Interestingly, she said, when she was at a low point in her life she almost gave my dad away...and on that particular day she lost his other shoe. She kept the shoe to be a constant reminder of the fact that life gave her another chance to be a mother—to be complete. She is so deeply grateful that she held on to my dad.”

Now Lisa interrupts, “That day my loss became her gain”.

Chloe pensively looks at Lisa, she runs and drops to her knees trembling... “you have to be the woman on the bus that day!” her eyes no longer holding back the tears, “Lisa, do you want me to ask NaNa Carla if you two can meet because you are the woman on the bus she told me about when I was a little girl…I just know it in my heart.” I know my father Ramon has wondered about you and spoke of his gratitude to the woman that returned him to his mother.

All Lisa could say in response was…

“My son, my beautiful son”...she rocks, arms crossed head down, rocking herself as her tears are streaming. Finally, she stands up, slowly goes over to the massive cherry wood bookshelf.

She puts the “little black book” back on the shelf and with trembling hands holds “the shoe” in her palm close to her heart. For years I have searched, I put ads in the newspaper but it seemed to no avail. I felt defeated.” She then lights a candle and looks me in the eyes and lays back down on the chaise staring again into the fire. Softly, her voice barely a whisper, she says,

“Please get the “little black book” off of the shelf again, go to the last page and read aloud.” Chloe swiftly rose to her feet, anticipating what could possibly be left to this story. She nervously pages to the end of Lisa’s writing in “little black book” fumbling a bit until she finally found it. She reads Lisa’s words - “With all my heart I have searched for the boy that is ‘my son’. The boy who was left in my arms on the bus...In the event that someone brings him back into my life. I bequeath the sum of $20,000.00 as a small token of my gratitude”.

“Chloe, you are my grandchild and the money is yours”.