It was buried in the back. Buried behind the red ruffled blouse and the canary yellow lace pants. I don’t know when she bought it for me. Obviously, I had refused to wear it. But today I was surprised that I had hidden it. It was exactly what I would have bought myself . Wearing it could prove dangerous. Mother might think we should start shopping together . Worse yet, she might tell people she was dressing me. But if she could just keep it coming and keep her mouth closed about it, we might form a rather nice relationship.
I slipped it on . The neckline was curved, causing the straps to look as if they laid across my shoulders . The black fabric was complimentary of the rest of my wardrobe. And the dainty white polka dots that covered the entire dress gave it a feminine effect. But it was the pink flower that resided on the left side that down right took it over the edge . This dress was no where near the “tad” category. It took me to the land of down right daring. I looked almost as good as Miss Amber Topaz herself. The flowing skirt fell just below my knees.
“I can’t go out in this. It will ruin me. Amber will want to buy a matching outfit.” I turned in front of the mirror. I simply looked too good not to risk it. For a moment I wondered if Joshua would laugh . Then I decided I didn’t care what he thought. I was free to wear those canary yellow pants with the red ruffled blouse if I wanted to, though if I wanted to, I would need to be committed. I was free to do anything, no matter what Joshua North thought. But he would think something. Of that I was sure.
The black, small-heeled flip-flops—or maybe you would call them thongs, who can be sure these days?—with the faux silver buckle at least gave me some semblance of familiarity. I gave myself one last gaze, running my hand over the front of my waist and down the sides of my skirt . Then I remembered . The president was coming. Who in the world would care what I was wearing?
“Nice dress.” Mervine spoke.
“Did you know the president’s coming today, Mervine?”The humming dishwasher caught my attention. “Duke, I do believe these people have been liberated.”
It was the busiest time of the day at Dad’s shop, people clamoring for their morning coffee. I filled up Duke’s water bowl and checked to see if he had eaten the steak. He had. Only the bone remained. And that was being generous. Apparently he felt life had returned to normal. If normal is eating steak out of a dog trough at eight in the morning.
I reached for a Coke. A ritual of mine for the last 365 days of each of the past nineteen years of my life, and a few more if you count leap years. But today as I looked at the fountain, I wondered who controlled whom. Faith ate and drank anything she wanted simply because she wanted. Until this exact moment I had done the same. But for some reason, today, I felt I needed to make a statement to myself. To my own personal “demons,” as Joshua tried to remind me. And as much as I loved that Coke in the morning and, granted, the afternoon, and as an end to a perfectly good day, well . . . if it controlled me, then I had to change.
No one wants such change . To stare a new revelation in the face and deny it is for some an everyday occurrence. But with what I now knew, especially what I had realized over this past week, that would not be possible for me. I took my shaking hand and got some ice. A magnetic force tried to pull me to the Coke. It was a war like few others my mind had ever waged. But it was one I would win. I wasn’t giving up Coke. I was just letting it know who was boss. I drank water.
For the first morning in nineteen years, I drank water. Had anyone seen me, they would have had me committed. Had I not just lived through this entire week, I would have committed myself. The only thing I knew was that Savannah Phillips had learned something: any priority above the ultimate priority is out of priority . Well, Joy had said something to that effect. Maybe I would have her just write it all down.
Dad’s eyes scanned me.“Nice dress, Savannah.”
“Did you know the president’s coming today?”
He laughed.“Yes I did, actually. So, did you have a nice evening?”
I tried to sit down at the counter.“A painful one.”
“Painful how?”
“There are two kinds? Oh, yes,we are speaking of Vicky now, aren’t we?”
“Savannah, it is Mother to you, not Vicky.”
“Oh yes, I believe you’re right. Actually, Mom was tolerable. It was the sidewalk that was painful.” I took a long swallow of my water. It didn’t burn, but it was appropriately pleasurable.“Ahhh. I see your dishwashers have retired.”
“Thank the Lord . We got it in yesterday.”
“You gave that poor man Ron a fright.”
He motioned in the direction of the twins.“Honey, I paled in comparison to what he endured from those two creatures.”
“I can only imagine.”
“Hey, you!You’re that girl from the park . The one that listened to my conversation and sat on my bench.”A finger-pointing little twit headed toward the counter. I recognized him as the one who made the berating phone call in Forsythe Park.
“Excuse me?”
“Yeah, it is you. And then you wrote about me today in your little article.”
He had me on that one. I just couldn’t believe he remembered me. Or that he knew I was talking about him . Well, what do they say, admission is the first step to change. Or change is the first step to admission. Or something like that.
“Yeah, what was it you said about me exactly?” He questioned snidely.“Oh,well,why don’t we read it word for word.” He snatched up Section B from the table where he had been sitting before he rose to annoy me. “Let’s see here: ‘I listened to a man as he berated an apparent employee on the phone in the middle of Forsythe Park. For him, life was about money and making it. It was about winning or losing. It was about being the “top dog.” But my friend Joy reminded me it isn’t about either; it’s about just being. Just being kind. Just being faithful. Just being a friend. Just being available. Available for Sunday dinner and baseball games. Available for graduations and recitals . How can any man be those things when the very premise, the very foundation of his living, has been focused on the wrong hero?’”
“I think that’s pretty good, don’t you, Dad?” Surely Jake could shore me up in these here murky waters.
“If it’s what you heard, it sounds good to me.”
“Good?! You call that good! It wasn’t even accurate.”
“I just call it how I see it.”
“I was talking to my father, you idiot. He’s the owner of the company, not my employee.”
“Then I would say your tone isn’t the only issue you need to be dealing with, mister.”
“I could sue you.”
“Wouldn’t do any good,” Dad assured him.“Last I heard, she’s in the hole as it is.”
“He’s right. I don’t have a penny to my name. And no one will know it’s you,” I said, attempting to console him. “Unless man is your middle name.” I turned around on my stool and left him to snarl at the back of my head.
“Jake, you better get control of this . . . this . . . this little Sugar Daddy Stealer,” the man spat at the back of my head.
“Now you’re getting personal,” I said to the man behind me while looking at my father in front of me.“And those who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.”
“Savannah, that’s enough.” I could tell my dad was trying not to smile. “Todd, I’ll handle Savannah; you just try to have a good day at work.”
He left. But he made a whole lot of ruckus in the process.
“You are an incorrigible child.”
“You liked my article, and you know it. Or you would have told me first thing.”
“You did a good job, baby girl,” Dad said, sitting down beside me and picking up the paper. He began to read aloud.
I’m not here to write about choosing a religion. I’m here to share my experience that one can begin a journey unsure of the destination. But when the fork in the road comes and one path or another must be taken, a choice will have to be made. I had to choose. Not to choose would prove apathetic, a trait no one today can afford to have. And I could not choose a path that abandoned the beliefs I hold dear.
But the path I did choose led me to a very valuable revelation: Should every monument be hauled away, what I believe is etched in me. And I learned it this week by walking with three different women. One made me smile, taught me with her ever-present wisdom, and ate my food . The other caused me to think, challenged me with her divergent belief, and shared her Snickers . The third has offered me her food and her wisdom for the last twenty-four years. And each week I learn to respect her more as the woman she is, and not just because she’s my mother. Each woman came to her own fork in the road. Each woman chose the path that reflected the core belief of who she is.
In the end, only one path will prove right. I chose the voice of experience on this one. And I followed the one of my heritage . The heritage of my family, and at the end of the day, the very heritage of my nation.
Until next week.
Savannah from Savannah
Dad put the paper down and stood up from his stool. He walked over and gave me a peck on the top of my forehead.“Good job, baby girl.”
“Thanks. I’m listening.”
“Would help if you showed it more often,” he said, right eyebrow raised.
I met his challenge and then posed the ever-looming question.
“Have you seen me on the front page of the newspaper?”
“Yep.”
“Well, two stories about me in one day. I just might become my mother after all. Lord help us all.”And with that I left him . Him and his little thought for the day in chalk above his head. He who guards his way, guards his life.