Souvenir (31 page)

In the past, she would’ve called that attitude irresponsible; tonight, she understood.

“But I guess Brian’s been supportive,” Carson said, his tone saying he suspected otherwise.

“He’s baffled. This disease doesn’t fit his game plan. But I can’t be too hard on him, you know? He’s always had good luck. His strategies have always worked, but this time there
is
no winning strategy.”

“Hard for me to feel too sorry for
him.
He set you up, Meg—way back when, I mean.”

She nodded. “He needed an edge over you. Otherwise, why would I choose him? I’m not saying I approve, or that I’m happy about it, but I understand; he used the tools he had.”

“Wish he’d used them on somebody else.”

They sat silently for a long moment. “Africa,” Carson said suddenly. “Did you get to Africa yet?”

“No,” she said, smiling to think of him on the tire swing that long-ago day, “but I remember your promise—which I won’t hold you to. What about you? Have you been to Thailand?”

“A few years ago,” he said. “My last world tour included Bangkok.”

“Oh, that’s right, you said something about it at the show in Orlando.”

He nodded. “But it wasn’t…the experience wasn’t what I wanted it to be.”

“You didn’t like the lemongrass shrimp?”

He looked into her eyes. “You weren’t with me.”

He had never let go, just like her.

“I’m so sorry, Car,” she whispered.

The moment wrapped around them, timeless and forgiving, and then Carson stood up and reached into the pocket of his jeans. “I brought you something.”

In his hand was her gold chain.

“Oh,” she breathed.

He sat down close to her and hooked the chain around her neck, smoothing it over the ridge of her collarbones just like the first time. “There,” he said. “That looks right.”

Meg wiped her eyes on the edge of her shirt, not caring that mascara would stain the silk. As she did, a sound in the hall made her look up. Savannah, in a long loose T-shirt, came in the room, saying, “Hey, Mom—” then stopped dead. She looked at Meg, plainly astonished to see Carson there.

“Savannah! Hi, honey! I’m sorry, I should’ve told you Carson was coming by…”

Carson scooted over a little and Savannah pulled down the hem of her shirt to cover her thighs. “Hi, Carson. Um, Mom, I was just gonna ask you if Rachel can stay over after my party. Her mom says she can.”

“Okay, sure. I don’t see why not.”

Savannah continued to stare. “So…what are you guys doing?”

“Well, Carson had to—”

“I found something of your mom’s and thought I should return it before it got lost again.” He stood up as if to prove nothing inappropriate was going on.

“Wow, that’s really nice of you. What’d you lose?” she asked Meg.

“This necklace,” Meg said, touching it.

Carson said, “I found it a long time ago, but it’s taken a while to get it back to her. Looks good, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, it does. She never wears any necklaces—she’s pretty boring that way.”

Meg, surprised that Savannah paid any attention to what she wore or didn’t wear, just shrugged, but Carson smiled, and she knew by the sad curve of his lips that he understood what Savannah did not: she left her neck bare deliberately.

“It’s getting pretty late; you need to get to bed,” she said, and Savannah frowned her disappointment. “Besides, you’re not exactly dressed for company.”

“Mmm, guess I can’t argue with that,” Savannah said. She told them good night and backed out of the room. Meg went to the hall, listening until she heard the bedroom door shut.

Back in the den, Carson was sitting down again, on the edge of the sofa. “That didn’t look too good.”

“I suppose…but I’m not too worried. She’s going to know the truth about my history before long anyway—that I had a life before Brian, and particularly that you were an important part of it.” She sat down next to him, hip to hip, and marveled at how good it felt to do exactly what she felt like doing.

Touching the necklace again, she said, “Thank you for bringing this.”

“Meg…?”

“Hmmm?”

“I…listen, I’ve been thinking about what you said before—that you aren’t going to wait until, well, you know, you don’t want to become completely…and I want to…” He pushed his hands through his hair, its waviness made more obvious by the disarray. “I want to…I’m going to postpone the wedding.”

She turned in alarm. “Car,
no.
That’s—you need to keep that on track. I’m not going to be responsible for any interruption of your plans. That’s not…that’s not what this is about.”

“
You’re
not doing anything, Meg. I’m doing it. It’s not just you—I’ve had some doubts for a while.”

“She adores you.”

He nodded. “I know. She deserves better, though. She deserves someone who returns her feelings a hundred percent. I’ve tried, honest to God, but the best I’ve been able to do is about seventy-five.”

“But—your wedding’s
Saturday.
You can’t call it off now. You’re just having cold feet.”

“And who wants to get into bed with a guy whose feet are icy, huh? No…I’m going to put it on hold.” He stood and paced the room. “No—no, hell, I’m just calling it off. Completely. I won’t string her along.”

Meg stared at him. He sounded very sure of his decision, and he looked…relieved. Even so, she feared he was making an emotional choice that, no matter how much it buoyed her—and to be sure, it made her so buoyant she felt lightheaded—might be a serious mistake for him.

“Carson, I don’t have a future, you know that. You’re feeling sorry for me, but that’s going to pass. I’ll be gone, and you’ll have practically another lifetime ahead of you. Don’t…don’t jeopardize your happiness.”

He sat again, hands on his knees, head down. “There
is
no happiness for me if I’m not giving my all. Do you understand, Meg?” He looked at her. “It’s you I want. For five minutes, five hours, five days—whatever it is, I’ll take it and be glad. Please. Let me.”

His words were an unexpected oasis. She looked into his eyes, so fond, so familiar—so much like Savannah’s—and smiled so broadly that she broke into laughter.

“Okay,” she said.

Fifty-one

T
WO HUNDRED COLORFUL BALLOONS SEEMED ABOUT TO LIFT AWAY THE
party tent under which twenty teenagers were eating gourmet pizza Saturday evening. Pepperoni, of course, but also many other kinds with names Savannah didn’t bother to know, covered with toppings like avocado and garlic and pesto, baby corn and cilantro. And there were salads: potato, both red and mustard; Italian, with mushrooms and olives and pimento and fresh Asiago cheese; mixed greens with mandarin oranges and strawberries. Plus a chest freezer full of ice cream treats and five big galvanized tubs with every teen-friendly drink the caterers could think of. A three-tiered chocolate birthday cake swagged with lacy frosting—a neat trick—sat amidst the rest of the food like an overdressed girl without a date.

In the yard next to the tent was her glossy white Honda, a beacon of excess. There were balloons strung from both side mirrors and a huge red bow sitting on the hood. Savannah, standing at the edge of a group of chattering girls, thought the bow was cheesy, and wished the car was lime green or something vivid, but she couldn’t say she wasn’t glad to finally have it. Now she could make her own rules, more or less. Caitlin, who’d arrived with a tiny brown dog peeking out of her shoulder bag, had actually admired the car, saying her Mini was great but she felt a little like a circus clown driving around in it. She was planning to trade for a BMW X3.

Savannah eyed the crowd—her dad’s cronies and their kids, mostly. In spite of the party being in her honor, in spite of the food and the cake and the presents and the attention, she wished she could be someplace else. Interesting to learn that even Caitlin, who seemed to have everything, wasn’t as content with life as she ought to be, and why was that? Why wasn’t enough
enough
? Savannah found this troubling—not just about Caitlin, but more about herself. Her life was as good as anybody’s—better than most, she suspected—and yet here she was, at her sweet sixteen, feeling disconnected from the whole scene.

All these kids in their expensive brand-name clothes, all of them guaranteed a good shot at achieving as much as their parents had—
if
their parents didn’t turn on them the way Kyle’s did. They had everything handed to them. They never seemed to get caught breaking the rules or the law…and she was just as bad. Well, she, at least, was trying to help others—Kyle for one, and the manatee population for another—and meant to make over her life in her own terms as soon as she could. The next twenty-four months would definitely be the slowest ones of her life.

Rachel, dressed in a peasant skirt and ruffled top she’d bought in Wales, brought Savannah a soda and interrupted her mulling. “Here you go, Birthday Girl. Did he call yet?”

All day, Savannah had been both expecting Kyle’s call and dreading it. Yes, they’d made up about the way he’d coerced her to stay even longer last Friday, but she still felt pretty weird about that whole scene. He had pictures of her
naked, posing
, doing she didn’t know
what
all because she was too embarrassed and scared to ask him. He hadn’t called or chatted online with her in three days, and even before, she wasn’t so excited to hear from him. She wasn’t so sure about things just now. The drugs, the sex—none of that was what she wanted, or not in that way…but she didn’t know how to refuse without offending him. Yet she missed him, couldn’t wait to see him again; it
hurt
that he hadn’t called today.

“Nope,” she told Rachel. “But his cell phone’s not working, so…”

“Jonathan was asking me about you—you know, like, are you going out with anybody right now. I told him to ask you himself.”

Savannah looked across the tables to where Jonathan stood talking in a group with the five other guys there. They seemed to be a sort of skittish unit, unsure of how to mingle with the girls, some of whom they’d known forever. She noticed how mature Jonathan was looking all of a sudden, really tall, and more muscular than he’d been just a few months earlier. She liked his hair, which was sandy blond and straight, except where it curled a little around his face. Did he really want to go out with her? Like, date? The idea sort of appealed—and made her feel immediately guilty. She loved Kyle. The stuff that happened wasn’t all his fault. They were stoned. She’d gone along willingly.

Miriam, who was standing next to Savannah, said, “Jonathan is so cute. And look, you two match.”

Savannah laughed. They did match, both of them wearing green shirts and khaki bottoms—shorts in his case, a skirt in hers.

“Fate,” said Lydia Patel. “My mom would say it’s a sign.”

Rachel said, “She
has
a boyfriend.”

“Who no one has ever seen,” Miriam reminded them.

Lydia nodded. “What’s up with that, Savannah? Why isn’t he here?”

She couldn’t tell them, not about his true age and not about how…
wrong
he’d be in her dad’s eyes, and not about her ambivalence over her uncharacteristic behavior and Kyle’s encouragement of it. What must he think of her? Was he feeling weird about it all, too? Worrying about how he’d behaved, too?

She told her friends, “He had to work until closing.” Or she thought maybe he did; he’d said his manager at Home Depot was loading him with extra hours since he’d missed so much while in Miami.

“He couldn’t take off for your
birthday
?” Caitlin said. “Sorry, but if it was me, I’d ditch a guy who couldn’t plan ahead and all. Did he give you a present at least?”

“Not yet,” Savannah said. “He’s going to, though.” She assumed he was. He hadn’t said so, but she was hoping that just meant he wanted to surprise her.

“Speaking of presents,” Rachel said, pulling her by the arm toward the table where a colorful pile of gorgeously wrapped boxes and elaborate gift bags waited, “Why don’t you open some? I heard this was a
birthday
party.”

It was when the kids were all crowded around the table watching her unwrap colorful crystal earrings, four Vera Bradley bags of various colors and sizes, iPod accessories for her car, Broadway tickets for
The Lion King
—from Rachel, who knew the movie was one of her all-time favorites—that she got the biggest surprise of the party, announced by Jonathan.

“Hey, check it out! That’s Carson McKay!”

Everyone turned at once to look where Jonathan pointed, past the pool to the portico. It
was
Carson—in shorts and a Hawaiian shirt, looking a little nervous but smiling that famous friendly smile.

Her mom, who’d been standing with the grandparents and a few other adults, waved her welcome. “I’m glad you could make it,” she said, making it obvious that she knew he might show. But what about his wedding? What about Val? Savannah wanted to ask but held off, in case the answer was something he didn’t want to advertise to everyone. It wasn’t lost on her that he’d been in the den with her mom late Wednesday night, and now he was here on what was supposed to have been his wedding day. Whatever was up, she hardly cared—he was here! Unbelievable.
This
was a privilege she wouldn’t want to have missed.

Carson carried a white envelope. When he got to where she stood, he put it on the table and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, making her the envy of all the females in an instant. “Happy birthday,” he said. “Sorry I’m late.”

“Are you kidding? It’s so awesome you’re here!”

Her mom made the general introductions. “As some of you already know, and as Jonathan pointed out, this is Carson McKay. Carson, who’s been a good friend of mine since elementary school, had a change of plans for this weekend, so I thought he might like to come by.”

Carson bowed slightly, then stepped back with the adults to watch Savannah finish opening gifts. She saved his envelope for last. Inside was a card, and on the front, a painting of a field of waving grass and wildflowers beneath a broad blue sky. She opened the card; he’d copied down a poem, which she read silently:

To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee,

One clover, and a bee,

And revery.

The revery alone will do.

If bees are few.

E
MILY
D
ICKINSON
, 1896

She considered it for a few moments, then thought,
exactly.
Beneath the poem was

“Happy 16th Birthday!! Please join me and the band for a jam session (to be arranged); you choose the tunes. With affection, Carson.”

She read that part aloud, unable to keep the thrill out of her voice. “Wow! Thank you so much! I’d love to—but you’ll have to promise not to notice how bad I am.”

The rest of the evening passed in a happier blur of Carson-centered activity. He was a huge hit, answering questions and signing napkins, plates, shirts, whatever people brought to him. Using Savannah’s guitar, he played “Happy Birthday” as the caterer lit the candles on her cake, and even persuaded her to sing a short duet with him poolside later, when the party was just about done. Only her dad’s barely disguised scowl and her wounded thoughts about Kyle intruded—and only a little bit.

After she said good-bye to her guests and plopped down on the bonus room sofa with Rachel, her mind returned to Kyle like the poem’s bee to clover. Why hadn’t he even called?

And then as if bidden by her worries, her phone rang, beginning what would be one of the most troubling nights of her life.

“It’s him,” she said, looking at Rachel.

“So answer it.”

“Yeah, okay…” She stood and went to the bookshelf, her back to Rachel. “Hello?”

“Hey, how’s it going?”

“Fine,” she said coolly, waiting to see if he’d forgotten what day it was.

“I was gonna call you earlier, but, like, I was working on this plan, right? A kind of birthday surprise.” He hummed the beginning of “Happy Birthday,” then said, “but I didn’t have the details worked out, you know, till now.”

“Oh, well, that’s okay…. I had a good surprise already—Carson McKay showed up at my party.”

“Dude’s trying to move in on my territory,” he said. “Not cool.”

“He’s my
mom’s
friend,” she laughed.

“I bet your mom’s hot.”

“What?”

“McKay’s woman’s hot, right, and
you’re
hot—so I’m saying every chick in his life is probably hot. His mom, too, whattya want to bet?”

She lowered her voice and asked, “Are you high?”

“On life, babe, on life. ’Cause dig this: I have a birthday proposition for you! Could I say ‘proposition’ if I was stoned? No. Now here’s my surprise: I propose that you and me get together permanently.”

“What do you mean, permanently?” He couldn’t mean
marriage.

“I mean, you pack your stuff and we get out of town—like, get our own place where we can be together twenty-four/seven.”

“Oh…wow.” Funny how relieved she was that he didn’t say marriage. She wasn’t ready for that. Was she even ready for
this
?

“I don’t know,” she said, holding up a finger to show Rachel she’d be back, then going into her room to talk in private. “Is it legal? I’m
six
teen, not eighteen, remember?”

“Babe, I remember. No, here’s the thing. Legal doesn’t matter; I have a plan to make it so we can do whatever we want, right? I just love you so much, Savannah—I hated that you were, like, mad at me. I can’t stand waiting two whole years to have you all to myself. Don’t you want to be together full time?”

Her heart swelled. “Of course,” she said, going into her bathroom and closing the door. “Are you really saying I should
run away
?”

“Heh,
now
she’s getting it. Yeah. Come on, run away with me.”

This was something she’d never thought of, leaving home to be with Kyle
now….
But why not? Her Grandpa Spencer left his family when he was fifteen to go work with his cousin, mucking stables at a big Ocala horse farm. In some places, girls her age were long married and already raising kids. She imagined living with Kyle, the two of them doing whatever they wanted to do whenever they wanted to do it. No judgmental fathers or preoccupied mothers to worry about. No curfews to pressure her and Kyle. No heavy parental expectations.

Still, it was such a big step, and she had
plans
. “I don’t know…I mean, where would I finish school?”

“You can get a G.E.D.”

“That won’t get me into college.”

“Maybe not Princeton, but, you know, the state schools will take anybody. You don’t need all that elitist crap anyhow, right?”

“Right, but…let me think about it, okay?”

“What is there to think about? I love you. You
say
you love me—”

“I do!”

“Okay then. Decision made. Pack up and come on—oh, hey, you still have your savings account, right? You’re gonna want to withdraw what you got, ’cause you being underage means we’ll need to skip out of the country for a while.”

“Hold on—leave the country? How would we do that?”

“We—I mean,
I
, have it all figured out, babe. I’ll tell you when I see you, okay? ’Cause you never know who can hear cell phone calls.”

Watching herself in the mirror, she was sure she looked older than sixteen, and no question she
felt
old enough to be on her own. What she wasn’t so sure about was Kyle. If he was willing to ditch the drugs…then
maybe
. But how was she going to talk him into that when so far she hadn’t been able to even resist them herself?

She said, “Can you hold on a sec?”

“Sure.”

She pressed
MUTE
and set her phone on the counter. The girl in the mirror stared at her with worry plain on her face. “I know, it’s crazy…but suppose I say no and he ditches me?” She’d be back to her irritating, uninspiring routine.

Kyle was funny, he was adventurous—and except for that crazy night, he made her feel smart and pretty and talented and worthy of regard. Her mom always said she was those things, but it was different coming from Kyle. From Kyle it felt real and true. Her mom was her
mom
; she had to say stuff like that.