“Arden,” Mom said back, pulling away. I knew it was taking everything in her not to wipe her cheeks off. Mom had a thing with germs. “Great to see you, too! Can I get you all anything?”
“Just your beautiful smile!” Arden said. She instructed a few of her minions still lingering around her to go wait in the living room with the cameramen. She finally took me in, and I could feel her eyes tracking up and down my person. I suddenly felt completely exposed, even though I was completely covered.
“This must be one of your lovely daughters,” Arden said, smiling.
“This is my youngest, Savannah,” she said, putting a hand on my back.
“I’ve heard so much about you and your sister,” Arden said, collecting my fingers into a vise grip. “Now, my idea is to do the interviews first, then we’ll get B-roll. Let’s start with Kim. It will remind you of shoots during the show. Then we’ll bring in Savannah.”
She definitely picked up on the flinch and look of fear that came across me when she mentioned my being interviewed.
“Don’t worry, dear, it won’t take long. Ten minutes with you, max. I promise.”
Even ten minutes sounded a little bit torturous. Regardless, I plastered on my best fake smile and hoped that it could last through this entire day.
I sat on the love seat kitty-corner from the couch, the official “on deck” position, as Arden called it. They had been interviewing Mom for the past ten minutes and were starting to get into the nitty-gritty of the questions.
“So, Kim, tell everyone how the show has changed your life at home,” Arden prompted.
“I feel like I have my head on straight nowadays. I’m focused and determined to meet my goals each week and keep up with what Shake the Weight taught me. I keep inspirational messages sprinkled throughout the house for me and my girls to look at,” she said.
“And how have your girls responded to your being on the show?” she asked.
My palms started to sweat waiting for her answer. The smile that Mom had so perfectly been keeping up faltered for a moment before it shone even brighter.
“My girls have been incredibly supportive and have been making life changes alongside me. It’s important to me that we are making changes that will keep everyone healthier for longer, and they seem to be taking to it really well,” she said.
The lies spilled out of her mouth and sounded just like she’d probably rehearsed them so many times in front of the mirror. How was I supposed to follow up to that? Say that the thinspirations around the house were good for everyone? That her tiny backhanded comments about my weight inspired me to become fit? All both of those things did was make me feel worse and completely discourage me.
“Good, Kim. Can you say that quote again with a bigger smile at the beginning?” Arden asked.
Mom repeated the same sentiment, this time with more enthusiasm. It sounded true. It sounded like we were a family who rallied behind her extreme weight loss and wanted to follow suit. It was kind of a beautiful picture she painted, and for a moment, I wished it were true.
“Great. Okay, Savannah? It’s your turn, dear,” Arden said.
Mom came up from the couch and squeezed my shoulder as we traded spots. I wasn’t sure if it was out of support or a warning to stick to the script. I suddenly felt like I might get sunburned under the harsh lights. I tugged at my denim button-down, wishing suddenly that I’d worn a color that didn’t wash me out so horribly. That’s what I get for grabbing something out of the boring clothes drawer.
“All right. Savannah, can you tell us about what it was like for your mom to get the call from Shake the Weight that we wanted her to be on the show? Do you remember that day?” Arden asked.
I could feel Mom’s eyes boring into me. With the mixture of her gaze and the shining lights, my vision started to go fuzzy. My panic bubbled at the bottom of my stomach and started shooting itself through my veins, making me hyperaware of the amount of people staring at me. I took a deep breath through my nose and out of my mouth, in an effort to keep my anxiety at bay. It was hardly working.
“You need some water, dear?” Arden asked.
“I’ll grab her a glass,” one of the cameramen offered, sneaking away to the kitchen.
“I swear, I’ll get you in and out as quick as possible, all right, sweetheart?” Arden asked.
I nodded my head, embarrassed that I was suddenly being pitied by this entire crew of strangers. The cameraman handed me a glass of water and I gladly took it, gulping about half of it before setting it down on the coffee table in front of me.
“Feeling good? Good. Let’s start again,” Arden said. “Tell us about the day that you found out your mom was going to be on Shake the Weight.”
“Uh, um, yeah. That day she got the call. It was … Mother’s Day, I’m pretty sure. We were all eating dinner that Ashley had cooked when the phone rang. Mom dropped the phone when you guys told her who it was. After she was done talking to you guys, she went upstairs and started packing her bags for her screen test. We started packing our bags to stay with our dad for the weekend,” I said.
Arden frowned at me, then motioned for the camera to quit rolling. The lights dimmed a bit, and I felt like I could breathe again.
“Can we make it a little bit more peppy, dear? We don’t need the play-by-play. What were you all feeling in that moment? What was her excitement like?” Arden asked.
I nodded, and she motioned for them to start rolling again.
“She was really excited, so excited that she started packing her bags almost immediately after she got off the phone. It was nice to see her get excited about something again. It had been so long,” I said.
“And why is that?” Arden pushed.
I looked to my mom. How personal was I supposed to get? Was I supposed to mention that my dad had an affair with her best friend? That their divorce had been a no-holding-back brawl?
“I mean, since the divorce and everything, she was not quite herself,” I said.
Arden nodded. “What was it like watching her on TV?”
“It was really surreal. It was almost like she wasn’t the same person when I saw her on TV. She acted completely different than she had my whole life. It was really weird to watch, actually. I wondered a lot about what she would be like when she came back. Whether she’d be my same mom.”
“And is she?” Arden pressed.
“Yes and no,” I said. “She’s definitely happier. But she is not the same person who left last year.”
Arden looked back at the cameramen and did the same motion that she had before. She came and sat next to me on the couch, resting her arm behind me, uncomfortably close.
“I feel like you mean that your mom is a better person thanks to the show, right? Do you want to try that clip again saying something more along those lines? We’re trying to keep it positive here, dear, and you’re bringing it down a little bit right now,” Arden said.
“Sorry,” I said, feeling my face burn. I couldn’t look at Mom. This was her nightmare come to life—me not being able to say anything positive like she’d asked. The worst part about it all was I thought I was holding back.
“It’s all right. Let’s just try it again,” she said, leaving her spot next to me on the couch. The lights turned back up to full brightness, and I squinted.
“My mom came back a completely different person after the show. And definitely for the better. I’m proud of all her hard work on the show,” I said.
“That’s more like it!” Arden said. “Now, Savannah, how has your life changed since your mom has been on the show?”
“People recognize us at the grocery store now,” I said, which garnered a few giggles from everyone around us. “Other than that, my life hasn’t changed too much.”
“Has your mom inspired you to be healthier?”
“Inspired? Forced might be the better word. Wait, let me rephrase that. She makes conscious efforts to prepare healthy meals for my sister and me. It’s a lifestyle change
that we’ve had to adjust to … For the better!” I added hastily.
“Where’s your sister today?” Arden asked.
“Oh, she’s off being the dutiful college student. I wish I was there with her—learning and school gets me so excited. I’m sure she’s having a blast learning from all the new people she’s meeting. There’s only so much you can do in a small town in Indiana where everyone knows all your business,” I said.
“Okay, Savannah, I think that’s all the questions I have for you. See? I promised. Quick and painless,” Arden said.
I breathed the first sigh of relief I had all morning. As the cameramen set up a different angle for other shots, I sank into the couch next to Mom. I smiled her way, glad to finally be through with the hardest part of this process. She had her arms and legs crossed, and looked straight ahead, refusing to glance my way.
“Mom,” I whispered.
“We’re going to talk about this later, Savannah. I can’t even look at you right now,” she said.
Dread pooled in my gut. I thought I had done pretty well with the interview portion. I wasn’t sure where this hostility from her was coming. Arden made sure that she got the good, positive clips that she needed.
After the crew left, Mom and a couple of her friends from work decided to go out for a celebratory drink. I was supposed to stay at home and watch Fiyero. Immediately after they left, I raced up to Ashley’s room to let Fiyero out of his prison for the day. I nearly toppled over with the force he used to hug me when he saw me. I nestled my face into his fur while he tried to lick my face, one of my least favorite Fiyero tricks.
“I’m sorry you only got to come down for a few minutes, buddy,” I said, scratching behind his ears. “I bet you were confused hearing our voices and not being able to come down and see us. I wish you could’ve been downstairs the whole time. I bet Arden wouldn’t have had to cut off your interview.”
He cocked his head like he was trying to understand me. I always believed that he was formulating his official response in dog language whenever he did that.
I pulled out my phone from my pocket and dialed Ashley, listening to the ringtone repeat again and again. It pushed me to her voice mail, and I frowned at my phone, hanging up. I texted her instead.
Me: Hey. Just tried to call you. Lots of dirt on the shoot today.
Ashley: I’m working on a group project. Call you tomorrow?
I sucked in a sharp breath, not realizing how close I had been on the verge of tears until I knew that Ashley wasn’t available to talk me down. To remind me that everything would be okay and that I had tried my best with the interview. Pinprick tears started forming in the corners of my eyes, making my vision blurry.
Me: Okay. Talk to you tomorrow.
No “love yous” or “bye to you, toos” to be seen.
chapter SIX
The next morning, I woke up half expecting an apology text from Ashley for blowing me off yesterday. Instead, a text from an unknown number flashed on the front of my screen.
Unknown: Hi Savannah. This is George. Grace gave me your number. I have a big test on Wednesday that I really need help studying for. Were you serious about being willing to tutor me?
My heart leaped. So he didn’t hate me after the way we left things in the hallway. That, or he was really desperate for some help. Either way, I was ready to make it up to him for all my foot-in-mouth moments he’d been a witness to the past few weeks.
Me: Of course. How about this afternoon? One o’clock? My place?
George: My GPS remembers the way. See you then.
I had a lot of prep work to do if I was going to be entirely presentable for our tutoring session. Luckily, the house was still in decent shape thanks to the film crew’s coming over yesterday. The reminder of the film crew made me cringe a little bit. Mom had been so angry with me, even though I tried to stay as positive as possible. I hadn’t said anything completely awful, had I? She and her friends stayed out late getting drinks, and I decided to spend my wild Friday night doing research for the story Grace and I were working on.
With the help of Mrs. Brandt, I’d learned that all the school’s funding was public record, and we filed to have the records sent to us. We found out they published an “overview” each year to the school’s website, which generalized all athletics into one blanket number. We wanted to see the nitty-gritty.
The tenured salary for the school’s baseball coach was just too high. Something fishy was definitely going on, and I was determined to get to the bottom of it.
I heard a small tapping at my bedroom door, and my stomach tightened. Mom opened my door and peeked her head in, and I closed my laptop, bringing my legs into a pretzel-style position.
“I think we need to talk about the show taping,” she said, sitting down on the end of my bed. I wanted to pull my blankets up over my head and avoid this conversation at all costs, but it didn’t seem like a very viable option at this point.
“Mom, I’m sorry about how it ended up going,” I said. “But I do feel like they got some good footage to use where I was peppier.”
“Do you know how reality TV works, Savannah? They want to sell the most dramatic story that they can. All that footage is going to be fair game for some editor who doesn’t know us or care what the repercussions of our words will be. You’ve just handed them ammo,” she said.
“Well, can’t we ask Arden to look over it for us?”
Mom shook her head. “She can only control what she gets on camera. After that it goes over to the editing team. I just—I really hope that someone had a juicier story and they’re going to focus more on that.”
My stomach dropped to the floor. She rested her head in her hands as she sucked in a deep breath.
“What’s done is done,” she said.
“Mom—”
“I know you’re sorry, Savannah. And I’ll get over it, eventually. Right now I guess I’m just disappointed.”
“How can I make it up to you?” I asked. I could stand Mom being angry at me, but the disappointment hurt me deep down. While anger rips through your body and tears at your guts, disappointment is a slow and painful ache that sits on your chest for much longer. I could deal with the rip and tear of her anger. Her disappointment was agony.
“I’ll have to think on it,” she said, getting up from the bed. I closed my eyes as I heard her footsteps pad back down the hallway and didn’t open them again until I heard her bedroom door close.
* * *
Mom was playing catch-up on a client project for work, so she would be delightfully occupied while I prepared for my study session with George. I’d convinced her to keep Fiyero with her, on the off chance that George wasn’t a dog person.
“George is Grace’s cousin, right?” she asked.
I’d filled her in on some minor details about him, not daring to share the truth about my panic attack the day we met, or the harrowing moment when George almost turned me into a car pancake on the first day of school. I also definitely didn’t tell her about the way my stomach fluttered thinking about him coming over, or the way I’d very vividly dreamed of us winning the three-legged race and him pulling me close after crossing the finish line.
“Yeah, that’s him,” I said, trying to play it cool. She saw right through it.
“Are you wearing eyeshadow?” she asked, smiling slightly.
“I study best when I feel my best, and rocking gunpowder smoky eye just really gets me in the mood for calculus,” I said.
“I see,” she said. “I’ll keep Fiyero up here. Have fun with George.”
Fiyero whined for a few moments as I closed the door to Mom’s room. Once the door was firmly closed, I started on my quest to rid the house of anything marginally embarrassing for George to stumble upon.
It was officially 12:56 p.m. and I sat at our kitchen table, tapping my pencil anxiously. The mystery of not knowing if he was an early person (please, God, no), an on-time person (a little bit more acceptable), or a late person
(much more my speed) was aggravating. This was why I very rarely hung out with new people—their unknown reactions made me more nervous than it was worth most of the time.
I meticulously tried to hide each motivational poster and throw pillow that Mom had scattered around the house in an effort to keep the words weight loss and healthy lifestyle out of the conversation in this house for the afternoon. I’d just finished shoving the EAT LESS SUGAR, YOU’RE SWEET ENOUGH ALREADY! pillow into the front closet when I heard a door slam in the driveway.
The clock had just switched to 12:57. An early person. I wanted to be more surprised by that fact than I actually was.
I swung the front door open to find him with his fist balled, ready to knock on my door. He took a step back, startled.
“I heard your car door and beat you to it,” I said. “Come on in.”
Having George in my house seemed strange, like two separate worlds of mine were colliding. As he took in the pictures of me and Ashley as kids displayed around my house, I suddenly wished that I’d picked a more neutral spot to meet. He was seeing a personal side to me that I normally didn’t show the kids I tutored.
“Camp Snoopy?” he asked, pointing to a picture where I was sobbing while being forced to hold a mascot Snoopy’s hand.
“That was back when the Mall of America was especially awesome. We went to Camp Snoopy every summer,” I said.
“I think I have the exact same picture with my sister. Except she’s the one screaming bloody murder,” he said.
“I had a big distrust of mascot costumes. I’m still working on it, to be honest,” I said.
I led him into the kitchen, where I’d set up our space with scrap paper, a handful of pencils, and a timer in case he wanted to take any practice quizzes. I personally work best under pressure, so the timer is always a good challenge to get the math juices flowing.
“So, what do you need the most help with?” I asked, pushing a piece of paper and a pencil in front of him. He took the pencil and started twirling it idly between his fingers.
To Be Honest Page 5