Yours Always (5 page)

“Oh, yeah.  We have plenty of other garbage for you to win.”

The young woman rushes over.  “Mrs. Velma, I think it’s time for your break.”  As soon as Mrs. Velma shuffles out of ear shot, she leans over the railing of the carnival booth and apologizes to us, “She’s been the school’s bookkeeper since the sixties, and she refuses to retire.  I’m Lollie Evans, history teacher.  That’s Lollie, as in Lollipop.”  She coyly extends her hand in Fletcher’s direction, but her eyes are burning with lust. 

People like her annoy the hell out of me because they’re so predictable and fake.  I figure she’ll be using the old “whoops, I dropped something” tactic soon, and I’m not disappointed.  A basket full of Ping-Pong balls conveniently tumbles over, each ball making a distinctive
plink
as it hits off the edges of the glass bowls.  I laugh because Fletcher, completely unaware of the show she’s setting up to give him, asks me if I’d like to try the dunking booth.  I nod, letting out a brief snort when I glance back to see Lollipop’s derriere provocatively shifting in the air as she retrieves the balls.  She snaps upright and is disappointed to find that her show was pretty much in vain because her only audience is a hormonally challenged group of teenage boys.  The look on her face as she scans the crowd while shooing the boys away makes the entire event worthwhile.  Yeah, karma’s going to get me good for enjoying it so much.

We’re standing in line at the dunking booth when Fletcher looks my way. “Tell me more about yourself, Savannah.  What deep, dark secrets do you harbor?”

“None.  You pretty much know all there is to know about me.  What about you?”

“Same here.  Pretty boring for the most part.”  We fall silent again.  I’ve inched two places forward in the line when Fletcher speaks.  “Look, I’m just going to say it.  It’s obvious that we both have pasts that we’re not ready or willing to share.  Let’s just agree that as far as we’re concerned, the only past we have is the one we’ve created together.”

“Agreed,” I say, extending my hand out to seal the deal with a shake.  We grow quiet again. 

After a couple of minutes, Fletcher asks, “Hey, do you remember that time we went to the pizza parlor with Lizzy and Ben?”

I laugh so loudly that I quickly cup my hand over my mouth as I get odd stares from the people around us.  Fletcher grins broadly.  “I got you to laugh again!” he says, eagerly pointing an accusatory index finger in my direction.

“You did,” I admit once I remove my hand.  “Consider yourself very lucky because it’s pretty rare for someone to get a laugh out of me.”

“Why? Are you depressed?” Fletcher blatantly asks.  I’m uncertain if he’s joking or serious.

“Nah, I’m just dull,” I answer.

He leans in closely like he wants to whisper something to me.  “I just think you haven’t been hanging around the right people.”

“Perhaps,” I agree with a shrug as we’re suddenly bombarded by the giggly trio.

“Will you dunk her, Uncle Fletcher?  She’s my mean science teacher, Mrs. Gibbons.  I kept missing, and she laughed at me,” Molly says with a pout.

“I’ll do my best,” he promises, tossing one of the softballs up and catching it in his palm.  He does it again, but this time, I snatch the ball mid-air and rocket it squarely in the bull’s-eye before anyone has time to react.  Molly is stunned, Fletcher is impressed, and the mean science teacher is letting everyone within a two block radius know exactly how cold the water is.

“I want YOU to teach me how to pitch, Miss Savannah,” Molly excitedly requests.

“Maybe one day,” I say, launching another ball as soon as the teacher sits on the bench.  She plunges back into the tank, and when she comes up this time, she shoots an evil glare in my direction.  I figure I’d best slack off, lest Molly end up with perpetual homework.  I hand the remaining softballs to the girls.  “Okay, let’s see what you’ve got, ladies.  Oh, and Molly, you don’t have to call me Miss Savannah.  Just Savannah is fine.”

“Not according to my momma.  She’d be so mad if she found out I called an adult by her first name,” Molly explains.

“I understand because I grew up the same way.  It’s a Southern thing.  I don’t want you getting in trouble with your momma, so Miss Savannah is fine.  Now, show me your best pitch.”

They each lob their balls, and they fall way short of the target.  The shivering science teacher looks relieved as we move away from the booth.  “We’re gonna ride the bumper cars.  See ya later, Uncle Fletcher!”  And as quickly as they had arrived, the trio disappears into the crowd.

“What would you like to do next?” Fletcher asks.

I steal a glance at my watch and realize that it’s nearly nine-thirty.  Though it’s early for most, it’s the equivalent of an all-nighter for me.  “I think I’d like to go home now,” I answer.

“Is it the company?”

“No,” I say with a smile.  “This is late for me. I should be in bed nodding off to the sound of the TV.”

“It’s inexcusable for someone your age to publicly admit that.  Okay, I’ll bring you home, but first, how about dinner and a movie tomorrow night?  And I’m not talking about the early feature, unless it’s a deal breaker.  Then we can have lunch and a movie.”

“I’m not sure…”

“Come on.  You know you want to.”

“Okay, we can do dinner and a movie, but the movie can’t be one of those super sappy love fests, nor can it be a shoot ‘em-up-guts-all-over-the-place movie.  Also, there are no guarantees that I’ll actually watch the entire movie; I might sleep through it.”

“Okay, got it.  Anything else I need to know? ” Fletcher asks as we make our way to the parking lot. 

“I loathe sushi.”

Fletcher laughs.  “Okay, no sushi.”  Almost as an aside, he mutters, “But you like hamburgers and pizza.”

I give him evil eyes.  “I can’t believe you have the audacity to pick on me!  I’m sorry I was a little frazzled when we first met, but…”

In a tone much too sexy for any sane woman to ignore, Fletcher asks, “Why were you frazzled?”

I swallow hard before softly answering, “It’s Lizzy’s fault.  She made me ride to the pizza place in that car of hers.”

His smoldering eyes call my bluff. “Oh, I see.”  With a smirk on his face, he fastens his helmet and straddles the bike before gently patting the backseat.  “So, where do you live?”

I give him my address, and fifteen minutes later he drops me off at my door.  Once I’m inside my apartment, I dread checking the answering machine.  Without a doubt, there will be hundreds of messages from Lizzy asking about the evening.  Just as quickly as I finish that thought, I realize I haven’t received a single message, text, or communication from her the entire night.  I check my phone to make sure it’s operational, and it is.  With a huff, I plop onto the sofa and snuggle one of the pillows tightly.  My mind drifts, but I don’t like any of the scenarios playing out, so I shut it down and finally manage to get some sleep.

Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!
  I slowly wipe the accumulated drool from the corner of my mouth before groaning.  My stiff neck and puffy eyes are reminders why I hate sleeping on the sofa.  Stumbling to the door, I wipe the sleep from my eyes and find Lizzy standing in the hall.  I unlatch the chain to let her in, but before I can finish she’s already bursting through the door.

“Tell me everything!” she exclaims, far too perkily for my taste.

“Everything?” I blandly say, taking the cup of coffee she’s thrusting in my face.

“You know what I mean,” she scolds.

“There’s not much to tell.”  I wrap a blanket around myself before reclaiming a spot on the sofa.  “We went to a carnival.  It was okay.”

Lizzy’s eyes shine with disbelief. “Okay?  Just okay?  Why do I have a hard time believing that?”

“Because you think every story has to have a fairytale ending.  Sorry Lizzy, but that’s not always the case.  Sometimes things suck, and sometimes they’re just meh.”

“’Fletcher’ and ‘meh’ are two words that can never be used in the same sentence.”

“If you say so.  What happened to you last night?”

“Love.  That’s what happened to me last night.  I fell head over heels in love,” she squeals while clasping her hands together tightly.

“Overnight?  Can you remember the precise time?  Was it 11:32, or maybe 11:34?” I sarcastically ask while shrugging my shoulders.

“Tease if you must, but it happened.”

“Congratulations,” I say dryly.

“And…  I’M GETTING MARRIED!” Lizzy squeals.

“Hunh?” I ask, shaking my head from side to side with disbelief.  “Married?  You met the guy last night.”

“No, I met the guy in middle school; we reconnected last night.”

“Oh, that makes it so much better,” I say, rolling my eyes.

Lizzy crosses her arms over her chest.  “I have to say, I thought you’d be a little happier for me.”

I sigh.  “I’m sorry, but I worry about you.  You and Grampy are all I have left in my life, and now you rush in here professing love and wanting to get married to someone you haven’t seen in years.  It’s ridiculous.”

Lizzy sits beside me. “Is that the problem?  Are you worried that you’re going to lose me as a friend?”

“No, I’m worried about your judgment.”

“I’m a grown woman, Savannah.”

“Your car has lips and a hair bow.”

“My car is precious.”

“Cars aren’t meant to be precious; they’re meant to get you from point A to point B.”

Lizzy glares as she impatiently taps her foot.  “You’re jealous.”

“Jealous?  Jealous of what?”

“My happiness.  You can’t stand it when other people enjoy themselves.  No, with Savannah it’s all about self-loathing and depression.”

“Excuse me!  Walk a mile in my shoes and then tell me why I should believe in the fairytales.”

“I was with you through most of it, Savannah.  I know full well what you’ve been through, but what’s the point of surviving all of it if you refuse to live your life?  Moping around your apartment and answering calls at work is not living.  Life is out there!” she yells, throwing open the curtains and pointing out of the window.  The bright beams of sunlight have me scattering away like a vampire.  “You have to let go of the darkness, Savannah.”

“I don’t hold onto it; I’ve made peace with it.  I don’t strive to be anything but okay, and then it doesn’t attack me anymore.”

“What?  Do you hear yourself?  It’s not a person hell bent on revenge!  Who’s the immature person now?  You refuse to be happy because you’re scared it’ll be taken from you.  That’s a terrible way to go through life.”

“Don’t you see?  It’s not about living; it’s about surviving.  Just surviving is enough to make me happy.”

“Darling, you need to look up the definition of happy because your version of it’s very distorted.”

“I need to get dressed.  I told Grampy I’d visit today,” I say, rising from the sofa.  Lizzy pushes me back down.

“None of it was your fault.  You shouldn’t feel guilty, Savannah.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I say, trying to push past her.

“Savannah, don’t ignore me.  Listen to me.  You. Bear. No. Guilt.”

“Stop it,” I say, covering my ears, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Get it out.  You’ll feel better.  You’re bottling things up again.”

“Would you shut up!  Why won’t you leave me alone?  Just leave me alone,” I say, swallowing hard so that the tears that threaten to spill will remain trapped.

Lizzy softens her tone, “I know you better than anyone.  Ever since Grampy took a turn for the worse, you’ve been even more reclusive than usual, and I’m not just talking about your holing up in this place.  I’m talking about emotionally, as well as physically.  You’re right; you’re a survivor and the strongest person I know.  I envy your strength, but with every tragedy, a little piece of you dies.  I see it.  My fear is that eventually there’ll only be a shell of you left behind, and that would be the most tragic of all.  I love you, Savannah, and I don’t ever want to lose you.”

“You’re right,” I admit with downcast eyes, “I have been shutting down.  Grampy’s about to die, and besides you, he’s all I have left in my life.  Can you even begin to fathom how much that’s going to hurt?  Of course I’m going to do what I have to so I can protect myself from that pain.”

Lizzy pushes the hair off of my shoulder and offers me a slight smile.  “Of course you are.  Just don’t go too far with it.  You’re on the cusp.  What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t warn you about it?”

“A better liked one, that’s for sure.”

“Ha, ha.  You can tell me all about last night while you get dressed,” Lizzy requests while shooing me towards the bedroom.

“Wait.  Are you really getting married?” I ask.

“I am.” She grins broadly.

“When?”

“Next month.”

“Are you serious?  Next month!  That’s…,” Lizzy cuts me off with an arched brow, “…amazing news.  I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you,” she beams, “There’s not a doubt in my mind that Ben is my soul mate.  We are one hundred percent meant to be together forever.”

“One hundred?  Not sixty-forty? Seventy-thirty?”

“One hundred,” Lizzy asserts.  I shrug.

“What do your parents have to say about it?” I ask. 

Lizzy and her parents don’t have the best of relationships.  They are extremely wealthy and spared no expense entering Lizzy into every pageant they could find.  Along with those pageants came endless hours of classes and practice sessions, dress fittings and elocution lessons.  Visiting my house was like a vacation for Lizzy. With Mom and Dad always gone, we pretty much did whatever we wanted, whenever we wanted, and however we wanted.  Unfortunately for her, she always had to return to that lifestyle she secretly resented.  This went on until college graduation, after which, Lizzy proclaimed herself emancipated.  She exchanged the BMW convertible, the designer wardrobe, and the luxury apartment her parents had furnished for her freedom.  They speak to each other occasionally, and she’ll also get a check from her mother every now and again, but that’s about the extent of their current relationship.

She picks up a bottle of perfume, pops the top, and gives it a sniff.  “I haven’t told them.  You’re the first to know.”

“When are you going to tell them?”

“I’m not sure I’m going to.”

“What!  Lizzy, you can’t get married without telling your parents.”

“Why not?  Mother will try to swoop in and take over everything.  Father will insist on the best of everything, and before I know it, Ben and I will be getting married on a paddleboat in the middle of the Mississippi River with every magnolia from here to Shreveport adorning anything that will sit still.  The cake will be a ten tier monstrosity, and the guests will be five hundred people I don’t even know.  Trust me, it’s better they not know.”

“They’ll never forgive you.”

She sighs.  “No, they won’t.”  Lizzy grasps my shoulders.  “Please promise me that you won’t let them take over my wedding.  Promise,” she says with desperation.

I look her in the eye. “I promise that I’ll try my best to keep your parents from taking over your day.”

“And you’ll try your hardest to keep them away from Ben?”

“That, too.”

“Thank you.”  She bear hugs me.

“So if you aren’t getting married on a paddle boat, then where are you getting married?”

“His vacation house on Lake Martin.”

“You’re getting married at a vacation house?  What would Donna Reed say about that?” I quip.

“You just shush.  It’s going to be gorgeous.”

“You’re sure about this?  You don’t want to take a week or two to ponder this major, life-altering decision?”

“Nope.”

“You’re kooky, but you’re far from stupid.  If this is what you want then you have my full support.”

“You’re the best!” She excitedly jumps up and down a few times before bear hugging me again.  “Okay, I’ll let you go, but first, on a scale of one to ten, how was last night?”

“Seven.”

“Sounds promising.  Are you going to see him again?”

“We’re supposed to go to dinner and a movie tonight.”

Lizzy works to contain her squeal. “I want to hear all about it!  I don’t care what time it is when you get back…” she chortles. “I forgot who I was talking to.  I’ll be expecting your call around ten.”

“You know me so well.”

“Give Grampy my best.”

“I’ll do that.  Congratulations.”

Lizzy smiles broadly.  “Thank you,” she says while leaving the room.  I hear the front door latch as she lets herself out. 

My heart is in my throat as I approach the door to Grampy’s room.  The nurse warned me that his condition had deteriorated quickly, and that they were doing all in their power to keep him comfortable.  Frankly, I’m terrified of what I’ll find inside.  I’ve seen death. Lots of terrible, tragic deaths, however, I’ve never been around someone who knows it’s coming.

I sneak into the room, and still devoid of the courage to confront my anxiety, I hang out by door.

“Savannah?” Grampy’s weak voice calls.

“Yes, sir.  It’s me,” I say, finally coming into his line of sight.  He doesn’t look nearly as frail as I’d expected.  His appearance is weak and tired, but still every bit my Grampy.  I pull a chair close to the rail of the bed and take his hand in mine.

“How ya doin’, Old Fart?” I ask, trying to keep the mood as light as possible.

He pulls on his oxygen mask and lowers it slightly so I can hear him. “Better now that you’re here, moonshine.” 

My odd nickname goes way back.  Grampy sang the song “You Are My Sunshine” to me when I was younger.  Ever the cynic, once he finished singing I told him that I was nobody’s sunshine, because sunshiny people are bright, happy, and cheery.  I wasn’t any of those.  His reply was, “Savannah, even if darkness surrounds you, you still shine plenty bright.  Problem is you don’t realize it.  Think about it, even if it’s hidden, the moon still shines brightly in the darkest of night skies.  If you won’t be my sunshine, then from now on, you’ll be my little moonshine.”

A stabbing pain grips my heart when I notice how hard he has to struggle to get those few words out.  I pray my poker face is resolute because Grampy doesn’t need to know how heartbroken I am seeing him in this precarious state. 

“Can I get you anything?” I ask, softly stroking his hair.

“Nope, I’m good now that you’re here,” he rasps. 

I manage a smile. 

“I waited for you,” he continues.

“You waited for me?”

He nods, and with a shaky hand, he reaches for my cheek.  “You’re the thing I love most in the world.  Remember that, moonshine.”

“Grampy…,” I manage to stammer after swallowing the huge lump that forms in my throat.

“Shhhh.  Listen.  Forgive yourself and find happiness.  Do it for me.  I’ll be checking in on you, and I want to see you happy.  Lucas….”

“No, Grampy.  Don’t.”

“Shhh.  I’ll see him.  I know it.  I’ll take care of him.  We’ll go fishing together, even though I hate it.  There has to be fishing in heaven, don’t you think?”

His words are killing me, and I struggle to maintain my composure.

“Forgive yourself, Savannah,” he says.

“Grampy, please…”

“Shhh.  Your parents will be there, too.  I’ll let them know you’re okay.  Don’t make a liar out of me.  Find your happiness.”

Every inch of me is ready to bolt from the room, but I know I can’t leave.  My stomach is on fire, my heart feels as if it is squeezed in a vice, and I feel as though I have a soccer ball lodged in my throat.  Every word Grampy says makes the pain even more intense, and I have no idea how to make it better except to beg him to stop.

“No, this is important.  You will listen.  You’ve beat yourself up since you were a child.  Enough.  End it.  Happy.  I want you happy.  Promise me.”