“I’m originally from Texas, but have been living in New York City for a while. What about you?”
“I’m stationed just outside San Diego.”
It
doesn’t escape my notice that he doesn’t tell me where he’s from, only where he lives. Maybe I’m too presumptuous in thinking that he wants to talk to me, or maybe I’m just to eager to have someone to talk to.
“Have you ever been there?” he asks.
I shake my head quickly and move forward again. We’re both able to board the same elevator to take us to the second floor. He stands next to me, his arm grazing against mine. I’m half expecting to feel something a jolt or excitement of some sort but I don’t and it could be because I’m not looking for it. Tyler and I are just friends and even though I’m in love with him, we’re different and thousands of miles away from each other.
“How long are you in France for?”
“Two weeks,” he says. “I just got off the plane this morning.”
Before I know what I’m saying, the idea in my head is now falling from my lips. “I’m new here and am sight-seeing myself. Maybe we can do it together.”
Zach’s smile is brilliant and reaches his eyes. “I’d like that.”
Tyler
Jeremiah Moore is the epitome of an asshole. He knows I’m missing Savannah and instead of being my best friend and helping me overcome my magnitude of grief, the jerk has made a playlist for when we’re together. He’s even gone as far as changing one particular song to the text tone on his cell phone. Being the ladies man that he is, his phone is constantly going off so all I hear, every single time we’re together is the annoying voice of Madonna repeating “time goes by so slowly”. Jeremiah is lucky I’m not a hunter.
It’s funny. Savannah wasn’t here all that long for me to become attached, except I did. Aunt Sue says it’s because her and I are meant to be together, we just haven’t found the right time yet. I can neither agree nor disagree. When Savannah left, my heart was ripped right out of my chest and fed to the wolves. For the first time ever, I called out sick, telling Bobby that I just couldn’t work because I had the flu or something equally ridiculous. I stayed in bed and held the pillow she used to my face, inhaling her scent. I didn’t do that stupid shit when Annamae and I broke up, so I couldn’t understand why I was doing it now.
My momma put it in perspective. Savvy coming back was the closure I needed when she left the first time. She said had she never left, this is what I’d be going through- if not worse- when she’d be headin’ to college.
Thing is, not a lot of folks from Rivers Crossing, Texas head to college unless we’re playing football. I didn’t play, and neither did Jeremiah. Most girls around here try out for the cheer team, or whatever it’s called, in hopes to land a husband. Thinking Savannah would’ve been like that is hard. I picture her mounted on a horse, herding cattle or driving the tractor.
While we were growing up she was Uncle Bobby’s sidekick when she wasn’t with me and Jeremiah. Aunt Sue was teaching her how to cook until she had to move away. So no, I don’t necessarily agree with momma, at least on the college part. I do think it’s been the closure I need, just not sure it’s what I wanted.
Talking to her on the phone is hard. The time difference is difficult to figure out. Email is easier, but my computer is so damn old it takes ages to turn on and the Internet out here isn’t that fast, so sending her a diary of my life can’t really happen. The few times we’ve spoken, it’s been short and sweet. She asks about her aunt and uncle, I tell her they’re good. I ask about Paris, she sighs and says she’s learning. Before you know it, the time is up on my calling card and we’re saying that we miss each other before the line goes dead.
I looked into getting an iPhone, but with the lack of Internet on the ranch, it’s pointless. Sort of like my relationship with Savannah. I love her and know she loves me, but we can’t make this work if we can’t communicate. It seems we’re only able to be together if she’s here and I don’t have a clue as to when she’s coming back... if she even is. She left all her “ranch” clothes behind and took just her city life with her. It’s as if she’s closing this door on her life. Not that I blame her.
Della slides me a fresh beer. The frothy foam spills over the rim and I use the rag she keeps on the bar to clean it up. Each night after work I’m in here. Each night I leave by myself. The girl I want is currently five thousand two hundred miles from me, living the life she had planned out until one night screwed that up for her. If she hadn’t screwed up, she would’ve never come to Texas and I wouldn’t be sitting here drinking my sorrows away.
Every song that plays on the jukebox sparks a reminder of Savannah. It could be anything from long legs, picnic lunches or bonfires. She and I didn’t do much while she was here, but the things we did do created a lifetime of memories. At least they did for me. Each song reminds me of what a cliché I’ve become as I sit at the same bar night after night, drinking the same type of beer over and over again.
I’m a bad country song waiting to happen.
Jeremiah walks in without an entourage. It’s shocking to see, more so because he’s had a new friend every night of the week recently. I swear he’s running a dating business out of Red’s because women are flocking here to meet him. It’s like he’s famous or something. I don’t get it. He’s just a straight up backwards talking cowboy and women are chasing him like he’s the keeper of the golden ticket to Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory.
He slaps me on the back just as I’m about to take a drink. Beer sloshes and wets the front of my shirt. “Asshole,” I mutter as he sits down.
A few times since Savannah left, I thought about finding a new bar to drown my sorrows in because after working with Jeremiah all day and hanging with him at night, I get my fill. I’m tired of hearing that I need to let go, move on and nail the next piece of ass that walks through the door or shows up to buy hay from us. It’s not how I operate. Never has been. When Annamae left me for the greener pastures of Rufus, I didn’t start sleeping around. Hell I didn’t even care. That’s what tells me that shit between Savannah and I was real. I care that she’s gone. I care that I haven’t been able to speak with her every night. We were just getting started and deserve a chance to get together... if that’s what she wants.
This is where everyone cheers for me and tells me to go get the girl. Yee-haw and all that happy horse shit. In order to do that, I need a passport and I don’t have a clue as to how I get one.
The screen door slams behind me and the clatter of silverware against glass tells me that I’ve interrupted supper. One doesn’t simply interrupt supper at the McGuires’s – if you show up, you stay and eat. By the time I’m walking into the dining room, Sue is up and in the kitchen already fixing me a plate. I’ll never have the heart to tell her I just ate, or that my appetite hasn’t been the same since Savannah left because I’m afraid of hurting her feelings. Aunt Sue can cook and no man in the surrounding next ten counties over will pass up a meal fixed by her.
Fried chicken, greens and fresh corn on the cob are set down in front of me. I haven’t been around as much, aside from work, and she knows why. It’s hard and we both miss Savvy. It’s just easier to stay busy and away from people who want to talk about her. Except for tonight.
Before I can muster up the courage to ask for help, I dig in and let the wholesome goodness soak up the beer that’s festering in my gut. After a few bites and a nice ice-cold glass of milk to wash it down, I look at her aunt and uncle and prepare myself.
“I want to go to Paris and get Savannah.”
Aunt Sue gasps, but Uncle Bobby sets his fork down calmly and wipes his face on his sleeve.