Yours Always (3 page)

“What’s wrong?” Lizzy hurriedly shouts into the phone. 

“What?  Nothing.  What’s with the drama?”

“Savannah, you
never
call this late.  It’s as if the phone lines cease to work past ten o’clock as far as you’re concerned.”

“It’s only…” I steal a glance to the clock above the TV,  “…midnight!  Oh, my gosh!  Lizzy, I’m so sorry.  I had no idea it was so late!  We were talking, and I guess I just lost track of time.”

“Who was talking?”

“I was talking to Fletcher.”

“Fletcher!  The Fletcher from this afternoon?”

“How many Fletchers do you know?”

“That’s beside the point.  Tell me everything!”

“He wants to meet me in person.”

“Really!” she squeals.  “Are you going to do it?”

“I’m thinking we should.”

“We?  We who?”

“We, me and you.  And he has a Ben.”

“A Ben for whom?” Lizzy asks.

“For you.  We’re meeting them tomorrow night at Giovanni’s Pizza.”

“We are?”

“Aren’t we?”

“We are! Time?”

“Seven.”

“I’ll come over after lunch.  I’m doing your hair and makeup.”

“No, you aren’t.  See you tomorrow at six.”

“Fine. Whatever. See you tomorrow.  Night.”

“Night.”

I love how Lizzy and I can communicate with minimal words.  Don’t get me wrong, we can be very long winded at times, but as far as the basics go, one or two words are plenty.

All is quiet again, and as I lie in bed waiting for sleep to overcome me, I think back to Dad’s motorcycle and my teen years.  My dad was often gone for weeks, and sometimes months, at a time.  When he flew in from offshore, he’d swing by the school and surprise me with a ride home on the back of his motorcycle.  It truly was his pride and joy: garage kept, polished daily, custom painted to look like python skin.  Dad was a large, burly man, and one of his trademark requests was for people to check out the monster “pythons” he sported.  His strenuous and demanding work on an offshore oil platform earned him huge biceps, which in addition to showing them off, won him many an arm wrestling competition. 

When Dad was gone, so was Mom.  We weren’t close, and frankly, I think she resented having me.  It was okay though; I was happy to be alone.  Alone was far better than the awkward and forced interactions that happened when she was home.

Don’t get the wrong idea.  I had guidance and support when Mom disappeared, but it came from her father, Grampy.  He’s currently battling the debilitating effects of a nearly lifelong addiction to unfiltered cigarettes. I’ve been using the money left from Mom and Dad’s estate to see that he has the best possible care in a local assisted living facility.  There was supposed to be lots and lots of money, but between the double funeral and the secret credit card bills Mom had run up, most of it went as quickly as I received it.  Thank goodness Dad made sure the house was paid off.  I stuck every penny from the sale into a special account, and that’s what I’ve been using for Grampy’s care.

I mentally chastise myself for letting so much of my past seep into my present, and before I can wrangle up another issue to internally debate, I pop a sleeping pill and go out.

********

“What was I thinking?  Too much wine.  That’s it!  I was drunk.  There’s no way in hell we’re going tonight, so don’t even think about trying to persuade me.”

“Why are you freaking out on me?” Lizzy asks, her long luscious lashes batting hard to show her annoyance.

“Lizzy, I accepted a double blind date from a customer.  That’s completely unacceptable!”

“Why?”

“Because!”

“Will you quit yelling, and for goodness sakes, quit pacing.  I’m getting motion sickness watching you.”

“You call him.  Tell him I’m sick.  Tell him I’m missing.  Tell him I…”

Lizzy grabs my shoulders and forces me to face her.  “Stop.  Breathe. Relax. We’re only meeting for pizza.  You’re totally blowing this out of proportion.  Look, I know it’s been forever since you’ve had a date, and this must be super frightening for you, but you have to calm down.  Honestly, you’re scaring me.  I’ve never seen you like this.”

I close my eyes, and while pinching the bridge of my nose, I release a pent up breath.  “You’re right.  I need to calm down.  If I’m uncomfortable, or if things go awry, we’ll leave.  Right?”

“Yes, we’ll leave.”

“But what if you’re having fun with your guy and Fletcher turns out….”

“Did we switch roles or something?” she asks, mockingly touching her face as she turns to look in the mirror. “I’m supposed to be the ditzy neurotic one, while you’re supposed to be the wise and mature one—even if you are emotionally distant.  I think you get docked a few maturity points for indifference.”

“Oh, hush!  Yes, that’s right. I’m SO mature, just not where men are involved, obviously.”

“You do have a history of… hmmm, how do I put it nicely?  Finding the most rottenly craptastic men to start relationships with, but this one is different.  I just know it.”

“You’re just saying that because you want to meet Ben.”

“Pretty much.”

“You’re such a witch.”

“But you love me anyway.  Please tell me you’re not wearing that tonight.”

“What’s wrong with this?” I ask, hands on my hips as I tap a sneakered foot against the floor.

“Nothing, if you’re about to play softball.”

“There is nothing wrong with this!” I say while checking my reflection.  “A t-shirt and jeans are classic.”

She sighs. “Whatever.  Let’s get going.”  She shoos me out of the door and pushes me towards her car.  Oh, her car!  My frustration with Lizzy’s vehicle is best understood if I explain a few things.

For as long as I’ve known Lizzy, her sense of style has been quite unique.  Her dresses are generally retro fifties housewife, complete with the short strand of pearls and perfectly styled coif.  When she isn’t channeling her inner Donna Reed, she dresses in clothes too cutesy for doing anything of substance.  For instance, the day she helped me to clean out my parents’ house so I could put it on the market she wore a nautical themed outfit.  Her ensemble consisted of white, high-waisted shorts adorned with four plastic knot buttons, a tucked in navy blue sailor’s shirt with white trim and anchor patches, as well as cherry red patent leather heels and the lips to match.  Her heart was in the right place, but her mind?  I often wondered about her.

So, back to Lizzy’s car.  It’s green.  Seafoam green.  With gigantic white polka dots, eyelashes above the headlights, a pair of pursed pink lips on the front bumper, and a huge pink bow fastened to the roof.  The car’s rims are white daisies with yellow centers, and the luggage rack in the back is adorned with a customized sign that says
Luvsy Wuvsy My Little Bugsy.  Beetle Power! 
Did I mention how much I DESPISE riding in that thing?

Regardless, I suck up my reluctance and let Lizzy take the lead in this situation.  We arrive at the pizza place, and I tell Lizzy to bring me home.  She refuses.  We get out of the car.  I tell Lizzy to bring me home.  She still refuses.  We make it to the door of the establishment, and before I can say it, she snatches the back of my shirt with some sort of superhuman strength.  She smiles politely at the family standing behind us. 

“Hi.  Please go ahead of us.  Enjoy your evening.  Your children are adorable.”  As soon as the door closes behind them, the smile is gone and she’s pushing me aside.  “Listen to me, and listen well.  I’ve had enough of this childish behavior.  If you want to go, then go.  My goodness!” She stops snapping at me long enough to smooth her dress. 

“Me?  Childish?  You have a pink bow on top of your car!”

“Leave my car out of this! Seriously, I’m not going to spend my evening running after you.  If you want to go, then go.”

I give my feet a shameful glance.  “We really have switched roles, haven’t we?”

Lizzy’s face softens.  “It certainly seems so tonight.  Are you in, or are you out?”

After a brief pause, I relent.  “I’m in, and I promise to pull myself together.”

“That’s my girl!”  She hugs me tightly, then swats me squarely on the behind when I turn to walk inside.  This earns her a scowl, but it doesn’t faze her in the least.  Instead, she hops up and down in the entryway, squealing while happily clapping her hands together.  The entire restaurant stops and stares our way, and I want nothing more than for the floor to open up and swallow me whole.

“Lizzy Lou?  No way!  Is it really you?” A tall, clean cut man with a strong, chiseled jaw and the most amazing hazel colored eyes quickly moves towards my friend.

“Mercedes Benz!  Oh, my gosh!  I had no clue that YOU were the Ben Thibodaux I’d be meeting with tonight.  This is so amazing! I’ve always wondered what happened to you.”

He smiles down at her while taking one of her hands in his.  “I haven’t been called Mercedes Benz in years.  You look amazing, Lizzy.  How long has it been?”

“We moved from Baton Rouge my eighth grade year, so…  TOO LONG!”  Another squeal rocks the restaurant.  The manager peeks from behind a semi-closed door, shakes his head, and loudly pulls it closed.

“Lizzy, I’m sorry to interrupt, but maybe you should..”

“Ben, you have to meet my friend, Savannah!  Savannah, this is Ben.”

“Very nice to meet you, Savannah,” he says, barely stealing a glance my way.  Lizzy Lou and her perfect appearance clearly dominate his attention.  I look past Ben, and there he is, staring our way with a confused look on his face. 
How is it possible for him to look even better in person than in the pictures?
  My heart starts racing, my palms get sweaty, and my breathing turns a little erratic.  Nerves clench in my stomach, and I fight the urge to bolt. He smiles as his large hands leave the back of the chair he pulls from under the table to gesture that I should join him.

This can’t be.  It can’t.  People as beautiful as he is don’t go on blind dates at pizza parlors.  Something’s wrong.  Something’s very, very wrong.
  I try to stop the negative thoughts by smiling as I go around Lizzy and Ben and make my way to the table.  “Hi, you must be Fletcher.  It’s so nice to meet you.”  That’s what I intended to say when I reached the table.  What poured out of my mouth was a mix between a nervous giggle and, “Pizza.  Yum.”

Fletcher’s brows furrow, but only briefly.  It’s long enough to make me want to smack my head against the table repeatedly.  “Yeah, pizza’s one of my favorites.”

“I like hamburgers, too,” I mumble. 
SHUT UP!  Oh, my God!  Why won’t my brain freaking work?  Run!  Just cut your losses and run!

Fletcher gives me the old “bless her heart” look.  “That’s two things we have in common,” he replies.

I shake my head from side to side.  “I’m sorry.  This isn’t me at all.  I’m so embarrassed.”  Taking the seat he’s offered, I extend my hand to him once he sits across from me.  “Hi, Fletcher.  It’s nice to meet you.”

He accepts my outstretched hand and squeezes with a firm, but far from bone-crushing, grip.  “I’m glad you accepted my invitation.  Please, don’t apologize.  Truth be known, I’m nervous, too.  I’m pretty much a homebody, but Ben keeps pushing me to get out more.  I finally take his advice, and this happens.” He points towards Lizzy and Ben who are still fawning all over each other.  “I swear he knows everyone.”

I let out a chuckle.  “Yes, Lizzy is quite the social butterfly herself.  I’ve been hearing the same things from her. ‘Let’s go dancing, Savannah.  We should go to a ball game.  Ball games are full of men, Savannah.  You’ll never find your perfect match if you refuse to leave your apartment.’  I’ve heard them all.”

“So what’s your issue?  Why don’t you venture out much?” Fletcher inquires.

“What?” I ask, slightly taken aback.

“Why do you choose to be a homebody?” he clarifies.

“Can’t it just be because I like staying home?”

He shakes his head.  “Not likely.”

“Damn, straight to the intense stuff.  Okay, I don’t like venturing out much because I work a lot.  I’m usually wiped out when quitting time rolls around, and on my limited days off, I visit with my grandfather.  It doesn’t leave much time for club hopping and such.”

“I never was into that scene.  I’ve always been a simple country boy.  I’d rather be in a tree stand than on a dance floor any day.”

“So you’re a hunter?”

“I don’t get to as much as I used to, but I manage to make a trip every once in a while.”

“Then tell me, what’s
your
issue?”

Fletcher lets out a deep laugh.  “My own words come back to bite me.” He sighs.  “It’s kind of a long story, and Ben and your friend are heading this way.  Can we talk about it later?”

“Sure, as long as it’s not something malicious you’re keeping from me.”

“Malicious?  Me?  No way,” he says with a grin.