The biggest problem with Chinese food is that you’re hungry two hours after eating it. So by eleven o’clock, I was back to square one. The other problem was that the news wasn’t about to help me fall asleep. By the time a person made it to the weather, they were usually too afraid to fall asleep. That’s why Leno and Letterman had such high ratings; they catered to all the paranoids too scared to sleep.
Tonight, however, hunger and not fear would keep me awake. That and the picture of my mug that had shown up on the local reports. It appeared shortly after the glib little overprocessed Katie Couric wannabe introduced me as an “episode.”
Now, Vicky’s name has been attached to the word “episode” on numerous occasions. And her face can find a way to plaster itself across the television screen at any opportunity. Shoot, she could create an occasion. Which is basically what she did here. In fact, she created enough “episodes” in the past two days to sustain her own network. Sit inside any room within the Savannah cable district and turn on your television to public access and you will find Victoria giving a tour of this city through her heavily shaded brown eyes.
She came up with that idea when she decided tourists needed an easy way to get quick information about the sights to see and things to do while in the city. And since it was her idea,well, could there be anyone else to host? You have to ask such a silly question. I mean, she is the head of the Savannah Chamber of Commerce.
So she stands in front of the Andrew Low House in a peach ensemble, and next she’s in front of a square in something from the cranberry family, and then she’s in front of Lady & Sons wearing floral, and before you know it she’s giving a tour of her own office in the Savannah Chamber of Commerce, having donned her favorite color, cream. If cream is even a color. Each ensemble is accessorized and immaculately kept. And for a tour of the city squares themselves, the lady dons a hat bigger than the state of Texas.
So to have to sit here in my own room, in my own home, and view the two of us on camera together, me looking lost and her looking smudged, and labeled together as an “episode,”well, it made me downright angry. And the fact that I was sleeping in an empty house on a Saturday night, starving, and that my future husband had walked away with a redhead whom my mother actually embraced, and that I was forced in front of a camera only because my mother had no common sense . . . it was all more than I could bear.
Then came the coup de grâce. An interview with my mother in which she referred to—who? Could a turnip truck carrying turnips be more certain? She referenced me, her Savannah from Savannah. In fact she mentioned just about every accolade I had achieved since potty training. I think she even mentioned that one. Well, I guess advertisements in the newspaper will never again compare to what she has just accomplished here this evening . Thank God this was only local news.
I pulled out a pair of jogging shorts and a white T-shirt, and then slipped on my tennis shoes. I would deal with this insanity once and for all . The Phillipses were not going to be the headline news and bathroom folly any longer. Not on my watch.
Grabbing a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich, I headed out to stop the madness . The jaunt took a little longer because there was no way sister was walking past the cemetery at the hour of the dead . Yet, even at eleven, the streets of Savannah were still alive. People enjoyed the nightlife here, the restaurants and lounges and music. There was that other coffee shop, which stayed open until past the “godly hour,” and parties going on in houses with open doors . You could almost just walk on in. Most people didn’t know each other anyway, so what was one more stranger?
Savannah has its own clock. Its own reality. Its own rules. Some hate them, some love them, and others just tolerate them . The people now spread across the square and the small grassy-knoll area in front of the courthouse apparently comprised a few of all three types.
The camera trucks hadn’t moved and a few bright lights still glared. But most media members had gone to bed with the eleven o’clock news. A few lonely feeds for the West Coast remained. And Rita Cosby from FOX News. She was chatting with my father. Then I remembered. My demise was confirmed. I, Savannah, had certainly transcended the realm of “local” personality this evening and been thrust into the world of “national.”All by the descriptive powers of my mother.
Ms. Austin was standing at the corner with one of our local merchants having a cup of that other shop’s coffee . They behaved as if they had known each other for years, until she was interrupted by her cell phone. I continued scanning and noticed Dad was wrapping it up with Rita. He gave her a pat on the shoulder . The man never met a stranger . Then he made his steady but slow stride over to my mother.
Vicky was unpacking her evening gear, silken-clad neck pillow, eye mask, ear plugs, and cream taffeta sleeping bag. I wanted to walk up and shake her out of her obvious delirium. But truth be known, I was too tired to fight.
The rest of the square looked surprisingly clean, considering all the activity. I expected it to be blanketed with paper cups, dinner trash, and empty bottles. But it was just blanketed with people and, well, their blankets . The moon made its way over the square, and its full brilliance spotlighted the stone monument, as if making a statement. Some of the sojourners were ready to rest. Others prayed quietly in groups. And others were talking quietly, holding candles.
Crossing to the sidewalk in front of the courthouse, I stopped when I saw Mother rest her head against the back of the monument. She adjusted her silk eye mask atop her rather smashed tresses. Only a moment later, Dad’s head rested next to hers. There, encased in moonlight and looking up with a teenage smile, Dad nestled his arm behind mother’s head . They both continued to look into the face of the moon.
The dog and young man lying next to them were in peaceful dreamland and obvious rapture. Duke had even scored his own pillow. Thomas had scored two sleeping bags.
“This is what it was like when we were teenagers.” Mother’s voice broke the silence.
“Yes, it was. Except I wasn’t actually a teenager.”
They both laughed. He was eight years older and a “cradle robber” as my grandmother called him.
Vicky nodded at the moon.“It’s a shame it takes an event like this to get us to stop long enough to appreciate something so beautiful.”
He pulled her toward him.“Yeah,we’ve been too busy, haven’t we?”
“I know I have . You’re better . You stop when you need to. I keep going like the Energizer Bunny.” She giggled.
“Maybe it’s time to make first things first.”
“We do, on the whole . We always have dinner together . We take Sundays off, and our children have grown up to be givers instead of takers.”
“Yes, but you’ve still got to let go of some of your responsibilities. You can’t do it all.”
“I don’t try to do it all.”
“Oh yes, you do. And I think you do it because you’re afraid.”
“I’m not afraid.” She straightened to make her point. “What would I have to be afraid of?”
“Afraid life might not work if you’re not in charge of it. Afraid this city will crumble if you’re not there to hold it up. But you don’t hold Savannah up now,Victoria . You just think you do.”
“I do not.” She crossed her arms.
“You most certainly do.” Dad nudged her stiffening arms.“You can’t hold on so tight. Because at the end of the day, all you can control is you. And Savannah isn’t yours . You live here. But it’s not yours. And you need to quit making it the most important thing in your life.”
“Jake Phillips, how dare you say this is the most important thing in my life . You know you and my children are the most important thing to me.”
“Victoria, I know we’re important, but you won’t even take a vacation because you’re afraid this place will fall apart when you leave.”
Score one for Jake. I used to will myself to believe that Vicky wanted to direct the chamber of commerce so she could create an atmosphere of true Southern hospitality for visitors to our fair city. Part of me still believes that’s true. However, the other part of me thinks that she thinks the city can’t make it without her. And I do believe she has convinced most of the city of the same.
Maybe her powers of persuasion are in the perfectly coiffed hair or pristinely applied Mary Kay. They might even be in the way she puts her hand on your arm and laughs that small feminine laugh and stretches one-syllable words into two, like light into lie-it. Who knows what it is that makes people crumble so, but she is the queen of her domain. And she works in the grandest structure on Bay Street as well.
“I am not afraid of any such thing . This city would be just fine without me. I just . . . I just . . .well, I just don’t like turbulent situations. I want the city to know I’m here for them.” She pouted and apparently forgot about the moon.
“Turbulent situations? Give me a break . You believe Savannah will slip into the ocean if you leave it for a moment. I mean, think about it: Who is chained to this monument and plans to run her office from here the entire week if necessary? Who makes sure everything runs right around here? Who thinks she has to be at every meeting, make every decision, and be the head of every event?”
“Is this a trick question?”
Dad laughed at her naiveté.“No, this is an adequate assessment. I’m just saying you need to ask yourself some questions,Victoria. And I can’t think of any better place to do it than here, outside, looking at that amazing moon.” He lifted her chin to the brilliant light that was making its way to the other side of the square.
“I think you’re off-base and out of line, Jake Phillips.” Ooh, both names . That’s never good. “Why are you here?”
“To protect you . To keep you warm . To cover you,” he said, pulling her close.
“I’m not a child.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Then don’t treat me like one.”
He pulled her in closer, placing his mouth at her ear. It was a whisper, but I could still hear him.“I love you more than you could ever know.”
“I know,” she responded, trying to resist his effect on her. It didn’t work.
He kissed her softly on the lips and nestled her back under his arm, and fingered her unusually carefree hair.“You could never truly know,” he whispered.
Those words hovered in the air like familiar love lingers over the words of a song . They rested there like the knowledge of their love rested in each other. For a child watching such interaction between her parents, it was, well, disgusting. But for a woman to watch such a loving exchange between two people, it was defining.
Their gazes lifted to the moon, and mine fell to the sidewalk. I journeyed to my bed with a new definition of love, commitment, and character . These were the people I had come from . Their love had made me. Their character had defined me. And their choices would affect me.
But my choices would determine where this new revelation would take me.