American Honey

by Heidi McLaughlin

  Even though our mommas wanted us to get married, there is an age difference between us and I matured faster. Savannah was quiet and shy, never really showing any interest in anything but her horse. Living in a small town, people have expectations and there was one on her and me, but it wasn’t like I could take her out on a date or anything. Looking at her now, I wish I could’ve.

  I climb into the cab of my truck and pull the door shut. She jumps in and clutches her purse tightly to her body. I let my hand dangle over the steering wheel thinking about all the things I want to say to her. Right now the only thing forming is the idiotic sentence of “damn, you grew up”, but I have a feeling that will earn me a slap and I’d rather save that for later in the barn. I instantly chide myself for thinking I’ll get her to the barn like that. She just got here and I’m sure she has a rich pretty boy waiting for her back home.

  “Hello, Savannah. Long time no see.” She adjusts slightly, turning farther away from me and stares out her window. Her mood has changed from somewhat friendly to icy cold. I don’t blame her. The warm reception I gave the other woman was probably what she was expecting and didn’t get.

  “It’s Vanna.”

  I want to laugh at how straight-laced she sounds, but hold back. Something tells me she’s turned in a spitfire and that would be the spark to set her off. I’ve already pissed her off enough for one day. Her uncle said something about her getting into trouble one too many times at school and that her momma is too busy with her job to keep her under control. Apparently the answer was to send her back to where she got her start, even if she’s not going to fit in around these parts anymore.

  “Savannah,” I reply purposely. There’s no way in hell I’m calling her Vanna after that middle-aged letter turner that my grandma watches nightly.

  She huffs, but doesn’t say anything. I get the impression that she’s used to getting her way, especially with men. Sadly for her, life doesn’t work like that in these parts.

  “How far until my uncle’s house?”

  I look out the windshield, pretending I need to gauge the distance. I shrug. “Twenty minutes or so.”

  “Well, shouldn’t we get moving?”

  I shake my head and mentally kick my own ass for how this day has started. I’d like a redo, please. Hell yeah I’d jump out of this truck and scoop her up in my arms if I knew what she had grown into, but I was remembering my reserved Savannah, not the model sitting next to me.

  Cranking my key to start the engine, I’m happy for the loud roar of my engine to drown out my thoughts about her and us… in the barn. It’s never gonna to happen so I just need to stop thinking about it. I need to remember mud pie, cow tipping and catching lightning bugs.

  “Hang on tight, sweetheart.” I press down on the gas as I throw my truck into drive. She slams back against the seat, her door barely closed. I’m trying not to laugh but her high-pitched squeal is cracking me up. She’s turned into such a girly girl that someone is going to have to break her out of it and it ain’t gonna be me.

  Chapter 2 – Savannah

  My hair is blowing in all kinds of directions as the deathtrap I’m stuck in barrels down the road. I don’t see the automatic window lever and I refuse to acknowledge or even look at Tyler. He forgot who I was! How does that happen? I haven’t changed that much and you would think that when I’m smiling at him like a freaking buffoon he would know it’s me. Who forgets their supposed best friend? The moron beside me does, that’s who.

  I look over at Tyler to find him smiling. With the way my luck has been going this past month, he’s probably remembering some horribly disgusting moment in my pre-teen life that he’s all too happy to drudge up at the most inopportune time. Like when I’m hitting on my uncle’s ranch-hand. I overheard my mom asking my uncle Bobby about his ranch-hand, leading me to believe she doesn’t want me near him. She took me out of school, refusing to let me finish out my senior year because her parenting skills blow, so I’m going to do what I can to entertain myself. I need some excitement in my life and if that comes in the form of a guy I’ll never see again, so be it.

  His left arm hangs out the window while the other rests on top of the steering wheel. At some point in my attempt to ignore him, he’s put a hat on and aviators cover his eyes. Chicks dig aviators. Who knew someone like him could actually wear something fashionable? I look away, not willing to get caught staring. I don’t want him to think I’m interested, because I’m not. I don’t care if he’s good looking with his tanned arms and defined muscles. So what if his shirt stretches across his chest and I can see the outline of his pectoral muscles? He made me look like a crazed fool standing there at the bus while he doted on that other girl.

  My head falls against the door as I take in the passing scenery. I don’t want to be here. I’ve made my thoughts on the idea of spending my summer here loud and clear. No one was listening, least of all my mother who has it in her head that I’m some type of juvenile delinquent. One incident and I’m slapped with a label. She’s not exactly a good example of a perfect parent. Once I started high school I was left to figure shit out on my own. I suppose when you’re one of the most sought after divorce attorneys in New York City, you put your job before your family and forget that it’s dinner time or your daughter’s dance recital. Truth be told, if my mom knew half the shit I’ve done, she would’ve sent me out here a long time ago. Getting caught was never in the plans. Who knew she’d finally decide to come home early?

  My mom is being unreasonable though. Every kid experiments; it’s a part of life. My punishment shouldn’t be finishing out my senior year and spending my summer in a Podunk town away from my friends, shopping and any vice I need to numb my wandering thoughts on the miserable life I have.

  We turn down another dirt road and my uncle’s ranch comes into view. My mom said I loved it here when I was a kid, always running around barefoot and catching frogs down at the pond. The thought makes me shudder as I look at my freshly manicured toes. I do believe my mother laughed when I asked about manicure and pedicure services and said something on how I’m nothing but a spoiled brat who needs a lesson in life. Of course my eyes rolled. She raised me, so if I’m spoiled it’s because of her childrearing abilities, not because of me.

  The truck comes to a stop and idles in the driveway. By the way Tyler looks right now, with his cheek pulled in, he’s not getting out. That also means he’s not going to help with me with my luggage so I’m going to have to do it myself. I sigh heavily and lift the handle to get out. The door doesn’t budge. I try again, and nothing. Tyler, “the asshole,” starts to laugh before reaching across my legs and pushing the door open. The tingling I feel when his arm bushes across my leg leaves a burning sensation, as if glowing embers are resting on my skin. I look at him quickly, but he’s focused on the house, not me. Everything in me is telling me that I need to say thank you, but I can’t. The words aren’t forming on my lips. I’ve never felt… tongue-tied?

  I shake my head and slide out of the truck, but don’t close the door until my suitcase is securely on the ground. Once I do, he’s driving so fast out of the driveway that rocks are flying toward me. A few hit my legs and I cry out in anger and frustration. There’s no way I liked living here. It’s dirty and nature makes my skin hurt.

  “Well, well, well, if it isn’t my little Savvy.”

  As much as I don’t want to be here, I love my uncle. He’s been a father to me for as long as I can remember. My dad passed away when I was two and I only remember him from pictures, but my memories of Uncle Bobby are fresh – well, as clear as they can be after being gone for so long. I smile as he comes stomping down the steps of his old farmhouse. It looks the same, but more modern and very clean. It warms my heart to know that he’s kept it up all these years and didn’t suffer in the recession like others.

  “Hi, Uncle Bobby,” I say as I wrap my arms around his neck. He picks me up and swings me around, earning him a girly squeal. This is what I would’ve done had
Tyler been like this with me and not the other girl. But no, he had to make my homecoming awkward and show me why I don’t want to be here.

  “How’s my Savvy?” he asks as he sets me down.

  I shrug, because honestly I don’t know how I am. My life is a wreck and is only made worse by being here. I don’t want to tell him that, but I’m sure he knows. He’s always known. If it was a bump on my knee or a bee sting, Uncle Bobby had the cure. I don’t know if he was making up for his brother, my father, not being able to be around or what, but he was the dad I needed until we moved away. I know I’ve changed and I suspect everyone else has as well but there are things that I hope are the same. If I’m feeling down, will he have homemade ice cream waiting for me? I’m hoping not because I’m down all the time and ice cream is the last thing I need right now. Uncle Bobby picks up my suitcase and takes my hand in his empty one, leading me to the house. The covered porch brings back memories of many dinners and camp outs I used to have with my mom. We lived here when I was younger because it was easier for everyone after my daddy died.

  When I get inside I see that nothing, yet everything has changed. My pictures from when I was little adorn the walls and the house still smells like home cooking, something that I can’t get in New York. The aroma of freshly baked pie and a chicken roasting in the oven wafts through the walls. I inhale deeply, closing my eyes to try to bring up memories of running through the halls of this house. When I open them, I notice that the furniture is new and looks unbelievably comfortable. I can see myself getting lost while I watch this ranch hand work the land… hopefully with his shirt off. I step closer to the mantle and run my finger along the wood. Living in an apartment for so long, you forget how much love goes into building a home. An old picture catches my eye. It’s of me and Tyler with our arms wrapped around each other. Both of us are covered in dirt and sweat and he’s holding a frog in his hand. We were so close and probably would still be if I hadn’t been forced to move. When you’re young and dependent upon others, what’s important to you slips through your fingers. I thought of him until he just became a memory that I kept to myself. None of my private school friends cared about the stories I had to tell.

  “Come on, there’s someone in the kitchen who has missed her girl and is dying to see you.”

  I shuffle my feet into the kitchen to find my Aunt Sue hunched over the sink. She turns and gasps, covering her mouth as her eyes start to water. I fall into her arms and shed tears that I had been saving for when I’d see her again. When we left, I begged my mom to bring us back to visit, but we never had any time. Her career was important to her and because of that I’ve lost time with my two favorite people.

  “I’m so glad you’re home,” she says, cupping my face.

  I nod, unable to find my voice. As happy as I am to see her and Uncle Bobby, I don’t belong on a ranch. I belong in the city.

  Chapter 3 – Tyler

  I slam my hand against my steering wheel to keep in time with the beat of the song blasting through my speakers. The need to hit something is prevalent and I haven’t felt like this in a long time, not since I found my girlfriend Annamae - well she’s now my ex - playing “mow my lawn” with her momma’s landscaper behind her garage. Nothing really prepares you to find your girlfriend like that. My fist knew what to do though. It was only after I beat the kid to a pulp that she proclaimed her love for Rufus. With that I just laughed and walked away. My one year of dating a Southern Belle went down the drain just like that. That wasn’t a good day, but today, while shitty, isn’t the same. The sudden onset of energy needs to be released and the only way I know how to do that is to find a punching bag or go ride the bull at Reds.

  I don’t know what I was expecting today, but that wasn’t it. How could I not know that was Savannah standing there? I should’ve known. We’re connected. I know we’re all grown up now, but we were close. We were friends for a long time. Hell, I’d even seen her naked a time or two even though it was long before she was looking like she’s looking now, and damn is she fine now.

  I pull into the dirt parking lot of Reds and shut off the engine. Not too many cars are here tonight which is just perfect for me. This is the town’s watering hole – for everyone. Red doesn’t care. He’s been serving minors for as long as he can remember, never afraid that the law will crack down on him. We’re the epitome of Small Town America and that means the police chief is someone’s daddy, uncle, brother or cousin and probably sitting at the bar with a cold one in his hand, not giving a rat’s ass if some minor is in the bar. Just don’t speed. If you’re caught speeding, he’ll bust your ass and make you pay a hefty fine. I never speed.

  When I walk in, my best friend Jeremiah is leaning over a table full of girls getting his flirt on. I saddle up to an empty stool and tap on the bar. Della’s working the bar tonight. She smiles and nods, giving me the indication that she knows what I want. I look over my shoulder at Jeremiah and have to laugh. He’s the town’s poster boy for a redneck. He’s always dressed in plaid with his big shiny belt buckle, cowboy hat and boots. The boy even walks like he just dismounted a bull and always has his thumbs in his pockets. He’s who the Yankees make fun of. The chicks dig him though, especially the ones just passing through. They all think they’ve found themselves a real-life cowboy. They just don’t know that he’s a real-life horn dog too.

  Jeremiah is a man who can’t form a proper sentence, unless you’re a chick he’s trying to pick up. Then he becomes mister cool cat or whatever corny ass nickname he’s given himself. He’s articulate and smooth and the girls are putty in his hands. It makes me sick sometimes, but he’s still my best friend and I know he’d do anything for me, as I would him. Still grates me that this oaf gets any chick he wants, whereas I have to work my tail off for a little attention. It dawns on me that I have to keep Savannah away from him. Even though they know each other, he’ll really want to get to know her now.

  Reds is everything you want in a bar. It’s open all week long, they serve the greasiest burgers in town, beer’s always cold and the women are a-plenty. The bartenders know everything about everyone. There are so many peanut shells on the ground that it’s a new type of flooring. Music’s always playing and you’re bound to find at least one of your friends hanging out. On the weekends there’s dancing and a few bands stop through every now and again. Red even has a mechanical bull-riding contest once a year, and that brings in a lot of city folk. Reds is the place that those city girls like to escape to find their “cowboy”. We don’t mind. It’s always nice having Southern Belles around.

  The cold amber liquid feels good coating the back of my throat, but I don’t have time to savor it as a slap on the back makes me spit and choke. I swipe the back of my hand across my mouth as I cough and regain my composure. Jeremiah sits down next to me, his own mug of beer resting in his hand.

  “She here?” I look at him out of the corner of my eye and shake my head. His eyebrows are waggling. He does that when he talks about any girl, but what he doesn’t know is that Savannah McGuire is beautiful. What he also doesn’t know is that I messed up the reunion and her attitude is less than friendly.

  “Yeah, man, she’s here.” I chug the rest of my beer and set the mug on the bar, signaling for another one. I’m not about to sit here and get drunk, but the liquid definitely curbs my piss-poor attitude where she’s concerned. “She arrived with legs that are fucking a mile long and she wears them damn high ass heels that we’re always making fun of.”

  He looks at me questioningly. “Mousy?”

  I nod and tip my mug back. “I wouldn’t call her that though. She looks nothing like she did when she was twelve. Hell man, when she got off the bus, there was another chick with her and I thought that she was the other one. Mou… Savannah gave me such attitude that she ignored me all the way back to Bobby’s.”

  “She smokin’?”

  I nod, reluctantly. I don’t want to think of her like that and I definitely don’t want Jeremiah thinking of
Savannah in that way, but damn it all to hell, she’s the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever laid my eyes on.

  Jeremiah laughs and slams his glass onto the bar. It’s a good thing it’s half empty; Della hates it when her bar gets messy. “So if she has legs for miles and she’s smokin’, why aren’t they wrapped around your waist?”

  I sigh out of frustration that I shouldn’t feel. The thought of her and I like that overtakes my mind. Savannah and I didn’t keep in touch. We weren’t able to. To me, she was a friend that I was growing up with and teasing along the way from when she got braces, to when she’d come running into the house because we drenched her with water. She wasn’t supposed to grow up and be beautiful. She was supposed to stay the same so we could pick up where we left off. Now she’s like that senior girl in high school that all the freshman boys had hard-ons for.

  “Savannah…” Even saying her name overloads my senses. I had hoped she’d say hi to her aunt and uncle and we’d hop in my rig and come here to Reds to talk and hang out. “She doesn’t belong here,” I sigh with a hint of sorrow in my voice. I know I shouldn’t care, but deep down I do. I’ll wake up tomorrow, go to work and pretend that I’m not watching for her. When lunch rolls around, I’ll opt to eat in the barn and stay far away from the house and Aunt Sue’s cooking. I need to keep my distance and not let lines get crossed.

  “Did you pick her up and spin her around like they do in the romance flicks?” Jeremiah’s always watching movies to learn how to impress the girls. It works for him and maybe I should do the same, but by the way she was standing there all high and mighty, I think she would’ve handed my ass to me with her purse.