Undertow (Dragonfly)

by Moore, Leigh Talbert

  “Well, you don’t want me to die,” I laughed, flopping on her bed. “Who’d be your maid of honor? Pamela Browning?”

  “Pamela Browning!” she shrieked. “Oh, Lex. You’re hilarious! Wouldn’t that just toast her buns?”

  We both laughed at that. Pamela had shamelessly flirted with Bill since she moved to Fairview junior year, and we all expected her to do something desperate the night of the wedding.

  “OK, toasty buns,” I said, sitting up. “Go ahead. Let me see it.”

  She opened the armoire, and my eyes flew wide. I gasped when I saw the dress she’d picked out for me. Meg might act like a dumb blonde, but she’s got my number. It was beautiful. Dark maroon with an airy tulle skirt. She laughed at the look on my face, and I carefully touched the delicate, clearly expensive fabric.

  Then I put my arms around her and kissed her cheek. “I love it,” I whispered.

  “You are going to be so beautiful in this dress, Lexy, I’ll be lucky if anyone even looks at me.” She rested her temple against mine.

  “I’ll blend into the wallpaper next to you,” I said.

  Meg could be a model. She’s the all-American girl with long shimmering blonde hair, blue eyes, and a perfect figure. When they cast the Barbie dolls, she’s clearly what they’re going for.

  Once, a while back, I’d considered using her to practice my portrait work, but then I decided no one would buy it. It would be impossible to believe someone like her exists in the real world. As I watched her pacing, discussing her wedding plans, it struck me she was actually glowing. I couldn’t figure out how she did it.

  “And you have to wear makeup to my wedding, Lexy, now don’t roll your eyes.” She pulled out her tools. “You’re lucky to have such an even skin tone and those lashes or you’d never get away with it.”

  I did roll my eyes, but she ignored me. “Here, let me just put a little shadow on your lids and some lip gloss. Now look. Perfect.”

  We looked in the mirror, faces together, and I exhaled a laugh. Like I said, night and day.

  “Oh, Lexy, we’re the perfect team,” she said.

  “Team for what?” I tugged her golden lock and crossed my legs under me.

  “Anything! You have to stay here.”

  “Not this again,” I groaned. “No way. You can bury yourself in this place if you want, but I’m getting out.”

  “You make it sound like prison,” she pouted. “You know, you might realize the older you get, that it’s not so bad to be around people who know you and love you.”

  “I understand it being right for you. But I can’t stay here, Meg. It’s too small and claustrophobic. I’ll go crazy if I don’t get out of this place.”

  She sighed, tossing her makeup brush on the counter. “So Billy wants us all to go out on his boat next weekend. You in?”

  “I don’t know,” I picked up one of her gigantic wedding magazines and started turning pages. “I’ve got a lot of packing to do, and you know I don’t like boats.”

  “Please, Lexy,” she begged. “You’ll be leaving soon, and I’m afraid it’ll be one of the last times we’re all together.”

  “Who else is going?” I glanced up at her.

  “Bryant and one of his girls. I don’t know. Maybe Donna?”

  I didn’t mind Donna Albriton. “Okay,” I agreed.

  Being with Billy tends to bring out the hostile side of me, but I love Meg so much. I don’t want her to think I don’t approve of her future husband, even if she is way too young to be getting married.

  June 11, 19--

  I can’t believe I hadn’t figured out Meg was pregnant!

  Of course that’s why they’re getting married way too young. Bill would never have strayed from his carefully laid plans without something major happening.

  Now I know, and now I’m sworn to secrecy. And I also know there’s no changing her mind—not that there was ever a chance of that. Even at five years old, all Meg wanted to do was grow up to be a wife and a mommy. She saw Bill in ninth grade, and the first thing she said was, “It’s him.”

  I felt a pain in the pit of my stomach. She hadn’t even spoken to the guy, and there she was staking her entire future on him. But Bill’s always been kind to Meg. It’s funny, he seems as in awe of her as everyone else is. She’s so sweet, it’s hard to believe. And she’s so innocent, you wonder how she manages to make it through a day without getting lost or injured. She’s in the perfect location to live her life happy, secure, and protected straight through to the end, surrounded by her grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

  I, on the other hand, am getting out of here as fast as possible. Not that I don’t love my hometown. It’s a beautiful place that I will always carry in my heart as my inspiration. I just need to meet different people. I need new experiences and more stimulation. Seeing the same old faces and the same roads and store fronts day after day has become so monotonous, I’ll turn into my crazy mother if I don’t leave.

  And yes, I confess, I’m hoping for a better selection of guys. Ones who aren’t so focused on the big game or drinking beer or shooting guns.

  Savannah is going to be the answer to my prayers. It’s bigger, but not too big. And it’s on the water, so I can go down and commune with the ocean as much as I need to. I’ll miss Miss Stella and her great house on Port Hogan Road, but I can come back and visit anytime.

  So I agreed and last night we all went out on Bill’s boat. I can’t relax on a boat, but I couldn’t say no to Meg. She’s right. In a month I’ll be gone, and I don’t know how long it’ll be before I see my dear friend again.

  It’s unclear how her being Mrs. Bill Kyser is going to change our friendship. I hope not at all, but of course, I have no idea how my going to SCAD will change things. I confess, I’m as sad-nervous-excited-melancholy as my dear friend facing my future.

  I watched Bill a little more closely last night. I was sure he was shaking in his boots at what all was coming with fatherhood on top, but you’d never know it to look at him. He’s so focused. I don’t know where he gets it. His dad is as laid-back and easygoing as the next good ole boy rancher.

  Maybe it was too many hot summers driving the combine, but Bill’s been harping on this plan of his for two years now. He and Bryant, the tycoons of South County.

  We had one short exchange on our outing last night. He had just set the boat on course when he sat down beside me.

  “Congratulations, Daddy.” I smiled at him.

  He frowned.

  “What’s the matter?” I said. “Nervous?”

  He laughed once. “You don’t think I should be?”

  “I think you should be scared to death.”

  June 16, 19--

  Meg’s wedding certainly had style—just like her. It was the fairytale event she’d always planned, complete with the cruise into the sunset. Watching her and Bill leave, I imagined the end of all the stories where the fairytale princess lives happily ever after, and I wished them the best. I really did.

  And with that behind me, my sights moved to art school and chasing down my dreams.

  I’ve got two weeks to get ready, and Miss Stella is helping me pack all of my art supplies and clothes. Last night she came and sat on my bed to talk a few minutes.

  “I remember the day you came here,” she smiled taking my hand in hers. “You were such a tiny little thing with those big black eyes. I loved you the minute I saw you.”

  I crawled across the bed to put my head in her lap. “I remember I was so scared in this house all alone,” I said, hugging her thick waist. “When I was at Little Flower, I’d shared a room with seven other girls. This was the biggest place I’d ever seen.”

  She combed my long hair with her fingers. “You perked right up after you started helping me in the garden, and then after you started school.”

  “After I met Meg. I remember the first time I saw her, she was like one of those little Christmas angels. Perfect in every way.”

  Miss Stella chu
ckled. “I wasn’t surprised at all by your friendship. Margaret Weaver might seem like she has everything, but I recall her having trouble relating to other children.”

  “That’s funny. I never noticed.” I traced the eyelet hem of her gown with my finger, thinking. “She always seemed to know everyone and have lots of friends.”

  “Knowing people and having friends are two different things. But the two of you were right for each other. You’re an old soul, and she gravitated to that.”

  “To hear her tell it, she gravitated to my looks,” I laughed. “Something about us being exact opposites.”

  “Children are funny.” I could feel Mrs. Stella braiding my hair. “They’re fascinated by the strangest things. But Meg’s attraction to pretty things affects her judgment.”

  I lifted my chin, catching her hazel eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “Two people can marry young, and it can work out. But Bill Kyser doesn’t even know who he is yet, and he’s very distracted by his ambition.”

  I put my head back down and closed my eyes. “Meg’s pregnant.”

  Miss Stella didn’t answer.

  “I don’t think she’s told her parents yet,” I said. “Will you not tell them? Please?”

  I felt her sigh then. “I don’t make it into Fairview much. I don’t see why I’d have any reason to cross paths with Georgiana Weaver.”

  “Thanks.”

  “That situation will work out however it’s meant to be.” She went back to combing my hair with her fingers. “So you’re leaving for art school. I remember when you came running in this house saying you wanted to be a famous artist. You were so little, I just laughed.”

  I sat up to face her then. “You laughed and then went out and bought me an easel and a palette and a canvass and all the art supplies you could find.”

  “Well,” she looked down, “You’ve always brought me such joy. I can’t wait to see what you do.”

  “Thank you, Miss Stella. Thank you so much for everything.”

  She wrapped her arms around me and held me tightly. “Now don’t let some young man come along and distract you. You go straight through art school and worry about boys later.”

  “Yes, ma’am!”

  We giggled, and I turned out the light. In a few days, I’d be on my way.

  July 20, 19--

  It’s almost been a month now, and I love Savannah!

  The college is spread out over six blocks in the northern part of the city right in the middle of the historic district. It’s not far from Forsythe Park and that famous fountain, and I can walk down Drayton Street and be there in less than ten minutes. I plan to set up an easel one day and do some different views of it.

  Forsythe Park is a busy place. It’s a mile long, and there are always people jogging around it and events in the grassy center. I came to Savannah early so I could move in and have time to explore before classes started.

  Landing a scholarship that included room and board was a miracle, and I was thrilled my only worries would be figuring out gas and entertainment expenses. My college apartment is right on Jones Lane, and I’ve spent the first few weeks wandering around and getting to know the city.

  Savannah’s a big tourist town, but I’m used to that. The streets around campus are filled with little shops that carry student art, and I visited several and met the owners. Hopefully I can get some of my paintings in a few of them.

  I’m also just a few blocks from where the ghost tours start. I’ve never tried my hand at folk art or spiritual stuff, but maybe I’ll do a few and see how they sell. Everyone is so nice and encouraging here. I can’t wait for classes to start.

  My roommate hasn’t arrived yet. I decided to let the school just assign me a roommate, and now I’m hoping that wasn’t a mistake. Some art students are very quirky and competitive, but I’m trying to stay optimistic. At least we’re both artists. That’ll give us something in common.

  I drove to Tybee Island today to check out the beach and my options for meditation. It’s just a short ways down Highway 80 to the water, and I want to find the perfect spot to close my eyes, relax and let the creativity flow.

  The shoreline here is different than in South County. Back home we have short, sandy-white beaches met by turquoise blue waters. Savannah has rocky, high-tide areas where the water comes in and then goes out for miles of wet, brown sand. It’s beautiful in a strange, desert-island kind of way. It also fills the bill on my desire to add new sights and landscapes to my collection of mental pictures.

  I sit down on a large rock and look out at the flat expanse of sand. The ocean’s out there even if I can’t see it, and it’s just waiting to charge back in when the tide changes.

  Butterflies migrate through here in the fall, and I heard there’s a pirate festival, complete with parades and floats. All of this is perfect for the experiences I want to have. I miss my best friend, and I still worry about her sometimes. But I’m so happy here.

  This is where my life begins.

  Sept. 1, 19--

  Classes have started, and I am loving SCAD! I’m only taking one painting class. The rest of my time I wanted to focus on things I’ve never tried, either because I never had the equipment or because I didn’t have anyone to teach me.

  That’s the greatest thing about being here. The sculpture studio has all the tools I need to chisel and shape, my pottery class is equipped with wheels and kilns, and there’s even a glass-blowing studio and a metal-arts building. I could learn to weld if I wanted. That would be a neat trick to show the boys.

  A few weeks ago Meg called to say she’s happily settled in their new home. It was her grandmother’s little cottage between Fairview and Springdale, and if I know Meg, it’s decked out with all the latest interiors and looks like a tiny version of her future mansion.

  She’s nervous about telling her parents about the baby, but I tried to assure her that they’re going to be thrilled. Meg gets her baby-love honest. Gigi is the most baby-obsessed person I’ve ever met next to her daughter. The way they go on, you would think those tiny humans were the greatest thing since the invention of the spa.

  We were both so excited to finally chat again.

  “What’s happening?” Meg cried. “How’s Savannah? I’ve never gone more than a day without talking to you.”

  “I know! It’s totally weird. Have you changed? Is your hair still blonde?”

  “Good god, yes,” she laughed. “I’d look like a rat if I wasn’t a blonde.”

  “You would not.”

  “Stop changing the subject. Have you decided to come back yet?”

  “No way, I love it here!” I lay back on my twin bed. “Everything is so creative. There are whole shops devoted to selling art, and the historic buildings and fountains are just begging me to paint them. I went down to Tybee Island, and it’s totally different from our beaches at home. I can’t wait to set up an easel down there.”

  She sighed in my ear. “I wish I could visit you.”

  “You should!” I jumped up inspired. “There’s time before the baby comes.”

  “I don’t know. I would, but the thought of a seven-hour drive right now makes me feel exhausted.”

  “I can believe that.” My shoulders dropped. “So how are you? Happy? Is Bill being sweet to you?”

  “Billy is a doll, and our honeymoon was for the record books.”

  A grin crossed my lips. “Did you do what you were planning?”

  “Mm-hm. You should’ve seen the look on his face.”

  “Sounds X-rated,” I laughed. “I hope you didn’t scare the baby.”

  “Never heard a peep out of the little guy. Of course, he probably enjoyed all the rocking.”

  We both laughed then, and I was glad to hear her sounding so happily married. It was difficult for me to let Meg go. She was my first friend from the day she came bouncing up to me at the Magnolia School like it was written in the stars that we would be inseparable. We were like sisters, and I wanted her d
reams to come true, too.

  But now that it seemed she’d gotten her wish, I was safe to let her go and focus on my own dreams.

  Oct. 15, 19--

  The most exciting thing I’m trying this semester is Raku pottery. It’s like combining clay pottery with glass-blowing, and the finished pieces are so beautiful. They have a shimmering metal exterior. But it’s tricky to master. First, you’re working with extremely high heat, and the pieces can shatter so easily. I haven’t pulled one out of the fire whole yet. But I love it!

  Evan Gray is in my pottery class. He’s from Montgomery, and he’s very attentive. Says we have a home-state connection. Evan wants to be an illustrator, and he keeps asking me to have lunch with him. I like Evan, but I’m not really interested in getting sidetracked by romance right off the bat. And while he’s sweet, he’s not exactly my type. For one thing, he looks like he could still be in high school, all skinny and baby-faced. I came to college to have new experiences, not to spend all my time with the same kind of boys I left at Fairview High School.

  Despite all my new artistic endeavors, my favorite class remains painting. I can’t get away from the satisfaction of taking a blank canvass and coaxing it to life with my brush. I have to admit, I have an enormous crush on my professor, Nick Parker. I know, no dating the professors, but he looks so young, and he’s intensely handsome. Tall, with longish dark hair and piercing green eyes.

  When he comes around to critique my work, he always places his hand on my lower back. It’s very exciting. I look down so my hair falls to hide my face. I hope he can’t tell I’m blushing.

  Oh, and I’ve changed my name. Well, not really, but once we got going in classes, all the professors kept calling me Alexandra. That would just never do, so Evan shortened it to Alex, and it stuck. I like it! Alex. It sounds very smart and confident. Alex. Meg will never go for it, and imagining her frown makes me laugh.

  Suzanne Bailey wound up being my roommate, and she is not quirky or competitive. She’s great. Suzanne’s interested in graphic design, and she’s focusing on computer-generated art and advertising. It’s a smart way to go if you really want to make money in art. I mean, unless you’re Andy Warhol or George Rodrigue. I expect she’ll end up working for some big firm in New York or California, and don’t think she doesn’t expect the same thing! She and I are getting to be great friends. She’s originally from Charlotte, and I told her I think North Carolina sounds like the most beautiful place. I’ve never been to the mountains. Miss Stella didn’t take us on vacations.