Souvenir (34 page)

Fifty-six

W
ITH
S
AVANNAH SHOWERED AND TUCKED INTO BED
, M
EG JOINED
C
ARSON
and Brian in the den.

Brian was saying, “I tried calling Meg several times—but the reception’s so poor out there.”

“Sure,” Carson said. “They need more cell towers down that way.” Meg sat on the sofa near Carson, while Brian was in the wing chair. He said, “I would’ve left the club right away.” She knew he was chafing at Carson being her hero; she could see it in the way he kept clenching and unclenching his hands.

She said, “Well, Savannah’s clean again, and the worst of her cuts is bandaged up. She’s still not saying much, though.”

“We’re going to have to discuss what to do with her,” Brian said. Plainly he meant
after Carson left.
Poor Savannah…. Before she’d gotten into bed, she’d insisted that she hadn’t been harmed tonight, beyond the visible wounds. Meg knew there were emotional wounds, though; it was obvious that Savannah felt betrayed by Kyle, that she’d gotten her heart broken at the very least.

“I’m gonna head home,” Carson said, taking Brian’s unsubtle cue. He stood.

Meg stood too, bracing herself against the sofa’s arm. Her leg felt rubbery, but she tried not to let it show. “Come on, I’ll walk you out.”

Carson glanced at Brian, but
she
didn’t. Whatever Brian thought, about this choice or anything else related to Carson, she didn’t care to know right now.

When they were outside on the driveway, crickets chirping in competition with the cicadas in the trees, Carson pulled her to him. How good it felt, how right. She fit in his arms just as she always had.

He stepped back, leaning against the car but keeping his arms looped around her waist. “You were very impressive tonight.”

“What did I do?”

“It’s what you
didn’t
do—you didn’t berate her or force her to tell you everything.”

“God, I feel so awful for her…. She needs a little time to sort things out—what good would pressuring her do?”

“I agree,” he said, “but it’s got to be hard not to do it. You showed remarkable restraint.”

“Thanks….” She choked up, hid her face against his shoulder until the feeling eased. “She’s so inexperienced—well,
was.
God knows what all’s been going on that I’ve been completely blind to….”

They stood together, quiet and thoughtful. The insects hummed around them, oblivious to the pettiness of human life. How simple, how lovely to be a bug, Meg thought, your life’s path determined by absolutes: find food, mate, reproduce, die. No existential dramas, no guilt—no emotions at all. She couldn’t help thinking what a blessing that would sometimes be.

Carson said, “When can I see you again? I have to go to Seattle on Monday, get things resolved with my condo. I could come back by the weekend, though, for a few days. Then I’m off to Hawaii—a Memorial Day gig. I can’t get out of it.”

“You don’t have to come back here in between,” she said, remembering that he didn’t like to fly. Savannah would be taking most of her attention anyway; who knew what the effects of her misadventures would be? “That’s a lot of air travel. I can wait to see you after.”

“That’s okay,” he said, kissing her on her forehead. “Don’t you know you’re worth it?”

Fifty-seven

T
HE FIRST THING
S
AVANNAH DID AFTER SHE WOKE UP AT ELEVEN THIRTY
Sunday morning was haul herself into the shower again, using the hottest water she could stand. If only she could wash out her brain and her heart, rid herself of every trace of Kyle and his nasty friend. She leaned down to scrub between her toes and saw the one bright ray in her life: watery blood streaming down the inside of her thigh.

When she finished showering, she felt a little more human, but still mostly like a whipped dog. How idiotic she’d been! If anyone,
anyone
found out that she’d even considered running away with such a loser, she’d be a pariah. Brainy Savannah—yeah, right.

She could hardly face herself in the steamy mirror. How was she going to face her dad? She wouldn’t blame him if he took back the car. She wished someone could take back her whole life. Or the last couple months of it, anyway. Erase everything that had happened since the minute she got into the webpage stuff, with all her big ideas of finding a boyfriend who was more mature than the guys she knew.

Kyle was more mature, all right. Thinking of him made her head hurt, made her heart hurt, and she understood how some girls turned to heavy drinking or drugs or thought about suicide after being dumped—or totally betrayed—by a guy they loved. She understood the temptation of those sanctuaries, false though she knew they were.

After she was dry and dressed, she did what she could to cut Kyle out of her life: deleted him from her cell phone and from her IM buddy list, blocked his e-mail address and any messages from him to her webpage. She saw a message from Rachel waiting—
CALL ME!!!!!
—and sent her a short note:
Am fine. It’s all good! CU later.
Damage control.

She found her parents at the kitchen bar—both of them, on a Sunday! In her honor, obviously. She hadn’t seen her dad before five
PM
on a Sunday ever, she was pretty sure. It could only mean they were going to double-team her on this disaster; she ducked her head and waited.

“Good shower?” her mom asked, a little too cheerfully.

“Uh-huh.” She went to the pantry and took out cereal, more for the activity of it than because she was hungry.

“Dad and I have been talking, and we think it might be good for you and me to take a little vacation.”

Vacation? She got a bowl and spoon, got out the milk, all without yet meeting their eyes. Her mom sounded so pleasant—surely there were going to be angry words, some kind of lecture, some punishment. The “vacation” was probably a trip to see potential boarding schools.

“Where?” she asked, sitting next to her mom and pouring the cereal.

“I was thinking Hawaii. We’ve never been…and, with my, um, condition, it’s going to be harder for me to travel in the future.”

Savannah looked up. Her mom’s expression was so sincere, her eyes so kind. Instead of lecturing her, they were offering a
trip.

God, what a lousy kid she was.

Her voice wavered as she said, “That sounds great. When were you thinking?”

“In a week or so.”

Their generosity made her throat close with tears. She swallowed hard. “That’s—I mean, yeah, okay. Thanks.”

So far her dad hadn’t spoken, and she wondered, suddenly, if this plan was really cool with him or if he was silent because he disagreed. She hesitated to look at him; it was so embarrassing, them knowing how she’d been taken in by Kyle. Embarrassing and degrading; he must think she was a fool, no smarter than some bimbo.
He’d
never put himself in a position of disadvantage.

“So…I’ll miss school?” Not that she minded.

Her dad said, “Mom’s thinking she’ll arrange for you to make up exams after you get back.”

She ventured a quick glance at him. His face was neutral—which was better than she expected. “Oh, okay. I can do that.”

She ate, eyes on her Frosted Flakes, aware that her parents were watching her. What were they
looking
at? After her third bite she said, “Could you guys please stop watching me?”

A stool scraped back. “You’re going to talk to her?” her dad said.

“Yes—go ahead. We’ll go at four.”

Savannah watched him go. “What’s at four?”

“We have to go get your car.”

“Can’t I just stay here?”

Her mom frowned. “Even if I could drive it home myself, the answer would be no.”

Well, she had
that
coming. And the discussion that followed too, which was, more or less, the one her mom had been intending to have with her for weeks.

First, the practical stuff: If she and Kyle were having sex, had she used any kind of barrier birth control?

“Yes,” Savannah said, tracing silvery flecks in the granite counter with her fingertip, “and also no.”

How many times unprotected? “Three, maybe more.” She’d lost track. She added, “But those times he always, you know, stopped before…” Or she was pretty sure he had.

Her mom looked grave. “Do you realize you put yourself at risk for HIV, hepatitis, chlamydia, herpes, syphilis, and gonorrhea, in
addition
to pregnancy?”

“I’m sorry!” she cried. “He seemed so great! He said he loved the same stuff I do…. Anyway, I’m
not
pregnant.”

“No? You got your period? Well, that’s a relief. And in six months or so, if several HIV and hepatitis and herpes test results are negative, you can cross those off your list of worries too.”

Savannah shrunk under the pressure of those worries. “So…all those things—I won’t know if I have them right away?”

“I wish I could tell you otherwise. Syphilis, chlamydia, and gonorrhea show up fairly soon—within a few weeks. Tomorrow I’ll get you some preventative antibiotics for what’s curable. The rest, only time will tell.”

“God.” She hung her head. “I’m sorry. I’m
so
sorry.”

Her mom touched her arm. “Oh, sweetheart…”

They talked a little about her webpage, and her mom said she’d have to surrender her computer temporarily, “while we figure out how to protect you from yourself.”

She had that coming, too.

“Now listen, I have to ask you another hard question. Are you listening?”

“What?” Savannah said.

“The things you did—you consented to all that, right?”

“Yes,” she said, taking full responsibility for all the things her mom never need know had happened.

“And obviously you lied about where you were spending your time, so that you could see him.” The pain in her mom’s voice was just what she had expected she’d hear.

“Mom…” she shrugged. “Look, I know I did it wrong, but, come on, you never would’ve let me date him and…you know, I loved him. He made me feel like I was special and…and important.” Or he
had
. She wiped hot tears off of her cheeks.

Her mom put her hand to her mouth and nodded. “All right,” she finally said. “All right. It’s not that I approve of how you handled things, but I understand. And I’m…I’m sorry that Dad and I somehow let you down. You are
very
special, and
very
important. Nothing is more important. I mean it, and I’m sorry.”

Savannah wiped off more tears. “S’okay,” she said.

“No, it’s not. I’m going to do better, I promise.”

“Yeah,” she whispered, “me too.”

Her mom hugged her close and stroked her hair. “Okay.”

Savannah went back to her room and flopped on the bed. Hawaii sounded good—maybe they’d reset things there. Maybe she’d be able to explain, for herself and her mom, how she already missed what she’d
thought
she had with Kyle.

Love…it was so tricky and messy and misleading. How did anyone survive it? How did anyone know when it was true? She put on her headphones and played her favorite ballads as if the music would explain everything, emerging from her room only when it was time to go get her car.

It wasn’t until later, when she saw her mom set a vase of irises on the mantel next to Grandma Anna’s photo, that she remembered today was Mother’s Day.

Fifty-eight

W
HILE
S
AVANNAH NAPPED ON AN INFLATABLE LOUNGER IN THE POOL
M
ONDAY
afternoon, Meg paged through her mother’s diaries, keeping one eye on her daughter from the kitchen as though keeping her in sight equated to protection, the way it once had. Even when she’d seen Savannah these past months, she clearly hadn’t
seen
her. Blindness was not part of ALS, so she could blame only herself.

In the unused pages of the last diary—blank space that represented time her mother didn’t get, a protruding bit of ripped newsprint caught her eye. It was her mother’s obituary.

Ocala Star-Banner
, Monday, September 12, 2005

POWELL, ANNA LOUISE,
64. Mrs. Anna Louise Powell, formerly Jansen, passed away Saturday night in her sleep, victim of a sudden heart attack. Born July 27, 1941, in Clemson, South Carolina, to William and Alice Jansen, the former Anna Jansen moved to Marion County with her family at the age of 15. She married Spencer Powell, originally of Pittsburgh, PA, in 1963. Mr. and Mrs. Powell owned and operated Powell’s Breeding and Boarding since 1972. A member of the Marion County Ladies’ Committee for the Betterment of Rural Living, the Cover-to-Cover Book Lover’s Club, the Central Florida Breeder’s Association, and volunteer to several Ocala-area senior citizens’ aid services, Mrs. Powell was a beloved and generous person who will be sadly missed. Mrs. Powell is survived by her husband Spencer; daughters Dr. Meghan Hamilton of Ocala, Kara Linford of Sacramento, CA, Elizabeth Powell of Berkeley, CA, and Julianne Portman of Quebec, Canada, and their husbands; and eight grandchildren. Visitation is 7
PM
tonight at Montecito Funeral Home. Graveside service Tuesday, September 13, 11:00
AM
, at Our Lady of Tender Mercies Estates.

Of course she’d seen a copy before, but the presence of one
here
was proof that her father had known what the notebooks were, that his act of giving them to her was deliberate…. So that she could know her mother better—and know him better too, guided by her mother’s devoted yet honest words.

He might not have anticipated the other side effect—that she would come to know herself better as well—but she thanked him for that benefit just the same.

These positive results reassured Meg in an important way; she believed, now, that good intentions
could
lead to good outcomes, and sometimes did. Fate could reward as well as punish. She looked again at Savannah, drifting on the calm blue water, and thought,
she needs this lesson too.

“Thanks, Dad,” she murmured.