Vanni, if you’re riding with me you better hurry up.” I wet my hand to press back the golden brown lock that was protruding from an otherwise pristine ponytail. It was Sunday and I could drive myself, but it was about the only time Thomas and I even got to talk anymore. I peered in the mirror one more time and made sure my white suit jacket laid neatly across the matching white skirt, and appreciated the way the delicate black pinstripes elongated my five-foot-six frame.
This suit accomplished in an instant what Pilates could only do in four years. My rather pitiful legs stuck out, but the strappy white sandals (with a heel rather high for my taste) made them look a little better. Usually by this time in May I had a golden tan. But after my smoky run-in with Tan Beautiful last week, and now the revelation that I looked old and tired, well, I would have to rethink the whole tanning ritual. I could only wish for the olive complexion of Ms. Austin.
Thomas was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, and Duke waited by his side . We walked out the front door to his Jeep.“What do you think Duke does on Sundays when we are all gone?” I asked.
Thomas opened my door and shut it behind me. He crawled in the other side.“Oh, after his last two nights, he’ll probably sleep.”
“I’ve always pictured him sitting at the table, drinking coffee, reading the paper, then going for a dip in the pool and blow-drying himself off in Mom’s bathroom.”
“You are weird.”
“Weird, but it’s still possible. He’s that smart, don’t you think?”
“No dog is that smart.”
“But Duke isn’t stupid, is he?”
“No, he’s one of the smartest dogs I know . Why? Are you trying to get him on a stupid-pet-tricks show?”
“No, I just think he does amazing things when we’re not looking.”
“Make sure you get prayer for that this morning.”
Thomas’s Jeep jerked as he took off from the stop sign and headed toward Tybee Island and our interdenominational church.
Thomas got his Jeep—which he has named Leroy, no one knows why—for high-school graduation. Mother had visions of a four-door LTD, but Dad would have nothing to do with it. She was stirring up enough trouble over Thomas’s choosing of The Citadel. Believing Charleston to be the illegitimate child of the South, she warned him she wouldn’t even visit.
Don’t let her fool you. He’s going into his senior year and she’s already made over the bookstore, brought in a new line of Citadel dishware, and was even asked to represent The Citadel in trying to dissuade the first female applicant from attending.
Vicky herself went to the girl’s hometown, took her to lunch, bought her a dress, and did her best to get the young woman to go to a school that would make her appreciate “being a lady.”
“They are forming men there, honey. Surely you don’t want to spend your life with people thinking you’re a she-boy.”To this day I am not quite certain what a she-boy is,was, or will be. But Vicky was sure that would work.
Two weeks later Shannon became the first woman in the corps . Vicky was mortified and still to this day calls it an “all-male” academy.
In her quarterly column in The Citadel’s Pass In Review, entitled “The Making of an All-American Man,” Vicky wrote,“If those girls want to be treated like men then I’ll just call them men.”And so she does.
Anytime she passes a girl on campus, she simply smiles and says, “Well, hello, young man.” Hasn’t phased them a bit . Downright near sent Mother to the halls of Washington. Fortunately for Washington, she’s afraid to fly.
The church was already bustling. It had grown so much over the past year that Pastor Brice decided we needed to go to three services. As I watched the people enter, I was amazed by how many young people there were. Dad greeted us at the door and handed us a bulletin . The usual big hat and red lipstick and happy greeting from the other side of the door was conspicuously absent.
“Savannah, you look beautiful,” Dad said, kissing me on the cheek. “Your mother wouldn’t have wanted to miss this.” That creeped me out. It was as if we were talking about someone who had passed through the eternal gates of glory.
I gave him a raised right eyebrow, and Thomas and I entered the sanctuary.“Where did all these college students come from?”I asked.
“A lot are from the Savannah College of Art and Design. Pastor Brice said the other day that he gave his heart to Jesus over twenty years ago, and he wasn’t going anywhere. So, if the music was too loud or the service needed to be a little different to reach his kids and their friends, he was okay with that.”
“That’s a rather different perspective,” I mused.“What’s Granny Daniels think?”
“I heard she attends their Sunday-night youth services and keeps up with the best of them.”
I laughed, certain he had accurate information. “I wouldn’t doubt it. Seems weird today, huh?”
Thomas sat down beside me on a pew in the middle of the left-hand side.“What, with Mom not at the door?”
“No, with her not telling us to take our seats and sit quietly or spitting in her hand to wet your cowlicks down.”We both laughed.
The music began, and the very essence of it seemed to lift me. It started with an up-tempo song about faith . The multiracial choir swayed from one side to the other. By the time they were through, the volume had been brought down to a powerful yet reverent conclusion. Our associate pastor,Tom Jackson,was speaking this morning. The former Washington Redskin, with whom my father liked to chat football, rose to take the platform . His forty-year-old physique oozed professional athlete. And his African American heritage gave him beautiful skin and a magnetic smile.
He towered behind the Plexiglas podium, where he sat his Bible down and took in the thousand pairs of eyes staring back . He moved to the right of the podium and leaned against it. And I looked forward to some inspiring moments away from Vicky and the events of the last two days.
I was not to have them. For the next forty-five minutes, Pastor Jackson delivered a message entitled “Declaration of Dependence,” offering insight and reflection on the events transpiring in our city. No one could get away from it . Yet no one else’s mother was keeping quite the vigil mine was. I wouldn’t be getting away from Vicky until this madness was over.
Thomas started the Jeep. “What are you doing for lunch?”
The question brought revelation. There would be no Sunday roast today. No country-style steak. No rice. No gravy. No homemade biscuits. No nothing. Just take-out.
“I’m going to go find a housekeeper that cooks.”
“Dad got a big dinner from Lady & Sons last night and put it in the refrigerator so we could have it today . We’re taking it to the square and having lunch with Mom.” He noticed my disgust.“Just think of it as a Sunday dinner on the grounds.”
“When have you ever been to a Sunday dinner on the grounds?”
“We used to when we would go to Granny’s country church.”
“They had ants.”
“Are you ever positive?”
“Yes, smarty butt, I’m positive you will have a wonderful time. Don’t worry about me. I’ll get something.”
As he pulled up in front of the house, he turned to look back at me.“You really need to get over this pride issue you have. If you are proud of anything, it should be over our mother standing up for something she believes in, no matter how she may look to others.” He didn’t wait for a reply. He just left me there sitting in the Jeep staring at his backside.
Thomas had been mean in the past . We didn’t even like each other much until I left for college. I think we even had a few knock-down, drag-outs that ended with the words “moron!” and “Well, what do you know? You were an accident anyway.” Both of which hurt my feelings and left me screaming for my father.
But Thomas had never said anything that stung like those words just did. “Pride? I’m not the one with the pride issue . The one with the pride issue is the silly woman sitting in the middle of a square, holding the city hostage. That’s who has a pride issue. You’re telling me what to do? I’ll do what I want to do. I’m a grown woman who’s about to have her own apartment . You’re a little bald Citadel boy. Haven’t even finished school yet. Need to teach you some manners.”
Two fanny-pack-toting tourists on the street watched me quizzically as I ascended the stairs to the front door.
The Sunday newspaper was lying atop the breakfast-room table, where Dad had obviously read it with a morning cup of coffee. Or possibly where Duke had left it. I needed to see if Joshua’s dog could do that. By it rested a note and a take-out dinner. Enjoy your lunch . We’d like to see you today.
The cover of the paper only caused the anger of last night to return. There I was, betrayed by my own employer. My backside was on the front of the paper, with the beaming face of my mother peering over my shoulder. It would resonate with the world that I agreed with her. I would never wear that outfit again and would do whatever I could to prevent the world from knowing it was me.
Then I noticed the caption underneath. “Victoria Phillips, head of the chamber of commerce, embraces daughter, Savannah Phillips, in front of Ten Commandments Monument.”
My cell phone rang. I sent her to voice mail once again. Does US Air fly to Tanzania?