The Reeducation of Savannah McGuire

by Heidi McLaughlin

  I miss Tyler, more than I thought I would. I constantly wonder what he’s doing and if he’s met someone. It’s not fair of me to hope that he hasn’t, but I’d like to think that he’s waiting. We haven’t spoken much. There have been a few emails here and there, but no declarations of undying love, except for the occasional ‘I love you’. I’m okay with that though because I’m here and he’s there… we’re on different paths, I guess you’d say. Mine is one of self-discovery of whom or what I’m supposed to be and his is taking over my uncle’s farm and hanging out with Jeremiah at Red’s. I can’t really fault him, there have been a few times since being here I dreamt of being back on the ranch, hearing Jeremiah tease me, or having one of my aunt’s freshly baked pies.

  It’s the little things in life that you take for granted. Like the smell of clean linen when it’s hung on the line to dry, freshly cut grass, a horse giving you a kiss because you’ve cleaned his stall. I didn’t realize how much those simple acts meant to me until I returned to the bustling city.

  Now my days are spent walking around and exploring. It was my mother’s grand idea to have me live with a colleague of hers, saying that it’s better than living in a hostel. That’s what I wanted. I wanted to be free and live sparingly. My new babysitter is Alexis. She’s single, has never been married and has no children. She’s a replica of my mother, working long hours and never home. On my first weekend here, she showed me around. We drove to the countryside, hit the high fashion boutiques, ate lunch on the Seine and I naively thought things would be different here. I had visions of us doing something together every weekend, even meeting for dinner at a small café. I was wrong and was pretty much told to fend for myself. It’s like living in New York, except I’m in Paris eating croissants instead of bagels and trying to understand a foreign language. It’s the place I’ve wanted to be for the past few years, yet I find myself wishing I were in Texas.

  My days consist of being a tourist. I’ve told myself that I need to take advantage of my free time and if Alexis isn’t free, I’ll do it myself. On the list today is the Eiffel tower. Yesterday was the Louvre. Each day is something new because of the long lines to get in. I don’t have the money to pay for a guided tour, even though I’ve thought about hopping on one of those high school tours that are all over the place. I honestly don’t think anyone would know that I didn’t belong and I want the amenities that come with it. They aren’t waiting in hours of long lines or being shuffled off to the side so others can get through first.

  I thought about calling my mom and asking for the money to take a guided tour, but that would only lead to an in-depth conversation about college. When am I applying and to where and if fashion is still my direction? College is only on my mind when I’m lying in bed at night, thinking about Tyler. He’s taken just enough schooling so he can run the ranch when my uncle hands it over to him. He likes things simple, whereas I want them complicated. For the past few years, my life has been a revolving door of high society drama. Who kissed whom? Who slept with so- and- so’s boyfriend. Or did you hear blah blah got caught snorting coke? It was as if the drama was needed like a double shot from Starbucks. Even though I haven’t spoken to any of my friends from New York since I left, it doesn’t mean I haven’t kept up on the soap opera known as Facebook. On there, I’m invisible, yet active with my status updates and ridiculous emojis as responses. It’s enough to keep the ties loose but with enough slack that I can pull away if need be.

  With no funds for that guided tour, I’m stuck like the commoner I am, in line for the tower. I think I’ve moved about an inch in the past hour, waiting for my turn to go to the second floor. I’m hoping that by the time I get there, it’ll be dusk and I can just stand and watch the lights shine over the city. Being in Texas for a short time has made me realize how much I’ve not only missed, but also didn’t take advantage of, when I was living in the city. Sightseeing is something you do with your grandparents when they come to visit, not with your girlfriends, unless it’s walking down Fifth Avenue. I never went to the Empire State Building willingly and now I wish I had.

  Using only my peripheral vision, I take a tiny step forward. My nose has been buried in my novel all morning and afternoon. I read more to pass the time. Tomorrow I’m taking the train to the country simply because I have yet another book to read. They’re crazy smut novels, only designed to increase my longing for Tyler. I don’t care though. I need them to pass the time. It’s either this or sitting at a café in a metal chair watching the women walk along the cobblestone roads in ridiculous heels. I’ve bellowed out a few laughs at their attempts to be sexy. Thing is, that was me a few months ago and it still would’ve been me had I not detoured to the ranch where I was reeducated on what it’s like to be a real girl, one that can dress-up and isn’t afraid to get dirty. It’s not the clothes that make you sexy it’s your attitude and zest for life. Your willingness to learn something new.

  I’m bumped from behind and mutters of an apology are spoken in English. The man behind me is swearing profusely and trying to figure out how to tell me he’s sorry in French. I wish he wouldn’t. I close my book and turn around to tell him that it’s okay. A soft smile and a relieved look spread across his clean-shaven face. He’s wearing an Army green colored shirt and shorts. Thankfully his feet are covered in Nikes and not sandals with socks. I don’t know who came up with that fashion, but it needs to leave and never return. Ever!

  “I’m sorry,” he says again with a grimace. I’m gathering he thinks I’m French, which is odd since we’re at one of the largest tourist traps in the world and I don’t believe Parisians even visit unless they’re doing the obligatory sightseeing trip with family.

  “It’s no problem,” I say in perfect English. “I won’t be the last person you bump into while you’re visiting.”

  “You speak English!” His excitement is catching and I find myself happily giggling. Something I haven’t done since I arrived. His hand runs over his hat giving me a glimpse of what I gather is a shaved head. It’s a gesture that reminds me not only of Tyler, but Jeremiah as well. You know you’re homesick when you’re missing someone like Jeremiah Moore.

  “I’m Savannah,” I say as I reach out to shake his hand. I dropped the Vanna act because Tyler and Jeremiah showed me what an idiot that made me out to be. My mother and Alexis haven’t and both say it’s what I should go by if I plan to be successful in life.

  “I’m Zach,” he offers as he slips his hand out of mine. “You’re American?”

  “Born and bred. I’m on a life finding adventure, I guess you could say.” Zach is tall, muscular and very tan. Wherever he was before Paris has done wonders for his skin color. It compliments his brown eyes.

  “I’m on leave.” He nods toward the line and after a quick glance I realize that I’ve held us up. The last thing I need is for the tourists to start a riot. Everyone needs to get to the second and third floors for their most magical proposals and if they’re not already nervous enough, me holding up the line isn’t helping.

  “What branch?” Months ago I wouldn’t have known what to ask. Months ago I wouldn’t have asked. My friends would’ve been with me and on him like vultures. That’s how we are... or how they are. My position on romance and life has changed drastically and while I’m not perfect, I’m trying.

  “Marines,” he offers, with another nod toward the moving line. I figure that’s my cue to move the line forward and maybe stop talking. I open my book and pick up from the top of the page.

  “Where are you from?”

  For the first time since arriving I’m about to engage in a conversation with someone who wants to know about me. Maybe I’m being presumptuous, but I have nothing to lose. I slip my closed book into my bag and angle myself just right so I can talk to Zach and watch the line.

  “I’m originally from Texas, but have been living in New York City for a while. What about you?”

  “I’m stationed just outside San Diego.”

  It
doesn’t escape my notice that he doesn’t tell me where he’s from, only where he lives. Maybe I’m too presumptuous in thinking that he wants to talk to me, or maybe I’m just to eager to have someone to talk to.

  “Have you ever been there?” he asks.

  I shake my head quickly and move forward again. We’re both able to board the same elevator to take us to the second floor. He stands next to me, his arm grazing against mine. I’m half expecting to feel something a jolt or excitement of some sort but I don’t and it could be because I’m not looking for it. Tyler and I are just friends and even though I’m in love with him, we’re different and thousands of miles away from each other.

  “How long are you in France for?”

  “Two weeks,” he says. “I just got off the plane this morning.”

  Before I know what I’m saying, the idea in my head is now falling from my lips. “I’m new here and am sight-seeing myself. Maybe we can do it together.”

  Zach’s smile is brilliant and reaches his eyes. “I’d like that.”

  Tyler

  Jeremiah Moore is the epitome of an asshole. He knows I’m missing Savannah and instead of being my best friend and helping me overcome my magnitude of grief, the jerk has made a playlist for when we’re together. He’s even gone as far as changing one particular song to the text tone on his cell phone. Being the ladies man that he is, his phone is constantly going off so all I hear, every single time we’re together is the annoying voice of Madonna repeating “time goes by so slowly”. Jeremiah is lucky I’m not a hunter.

  It’s funny. Savannah wasn’t here all that long for me to become attached, except I did. Aunt Sue says it’s because her and I are meant to be together, we just haven’t found the right time yet. I can neither agree nor disagree. When Savannah left, my heart was ripped right out of my chest and fed to the wolves. For the first time ever, I called out sick, telling Bobby that I just couldn’t work because I had the flu or something equally ridiculous. I stayed in bed and held the pillow she used to my face, inhaling her scent. I didn’t do that stupid shit when Annamae and I broke up, so I couldn’t understand why I was doing it now.

  My momma put it in perspective. Savvy coming back was the closure I needed when she left the first time. She said had she never left, this is what I’d be going through- if not worse- when she’d be headin’ to college.

  Thing is, not a lot of folks from Rivers Crossing, Texas head to college unless we’re playing football. I didn’t play, and neither did Jeremiah. Most girls around here try out for the cheer team, or whatever it’s called, in hopes to land a husband. Thinking Savannah would’ve been like that is hard. I picture her mounted on a horse, herding cattle or driving the tractor.

  While we were growing up she was Uncle Bobby’s sidekick when she wasn’t with me and Jeremiah. Aunt Sue was teaching her how to cook until she had to move away. So no, I don’t necessarily agree with momma, at least on the college part. I do think it’s been the closure I need, just not sure it’s what I wanted.

  Talking to her on the phone is hard. The time difference is difficult to figure out. Email is easier, but my computer is so damn old it takes ages to turn on and the Internet out here isn’t that fast, so sending her a diary of my life can’t really happen. The few times we’ve spoken, it’s been short and sweet. She asks about her aunt and uncle, I tell her they’re good. I ask about Paris, she sighs and says she’s learning. Before you know it, the time is up on my calling card and we’re saying that we miss each other before the line goes dead.

  I looked into getting an iPhone, but with the lack of Internet on the ranch, it’s pointless. Sort of like my relationship with Savannah. I love her and know she loves me, but we can’t make this work if we can’t communicate. It seems we’re only able to be together if she’s here and I don’t have a clue as to when she’s coming back... if she even is. She left all her “ranch” clothes behind and took just her city life with her. It’s as if she’s closing this door on her life. Not that I blame her.

  Della slides me a fresh beer. The frothy foam spills over the rim and I use the rag she keeps on the bar to clean it up. Each night after work I’m in here. Each night I leave by myself. The girl I want is currently five thousand two hundred miles from me, living the life she had planned out until one night screwed that up for her. If she hadn’t screwed up, she would’ve never come to Texas and I wouldn’t be sitting here drinking my sorrows away.

  Every song that plays on the jukebox sparks a reminder of Savannah. It could be anything from long legs, picnic lunches or bonfires. She and I didn’t do much while she was here, but the things we did do created a lifetime of memories. At least they did for me. Each song reminds me of what a cliché I’ve become as I sit at the same bar night after night, drinking the same type of beer over and over again.

  I’m a bad country song waiting to happen.

  Jeremiah walks in without an entourage. It’s shocking to see, more so because he’s had a new friend every night of the week recently. I swear he’s running a dating business out of Red’s because women are flocking here to meet him. It’s like he’s famous or something. I don’t get it. He’s just a straight up backwards talking cowboy and women are chasing him like he’s the keeper of the golden ticket to Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory.

  He slaps me on the back just as I’m about to take a drink. Beer sloshes and wets the front of my shirt. “Asshole,” I mutter as he sits down.

  A few times since Savannah left, I thought about finding a new bar to drown my sorrows in because after working with Jeremiah all day and hanging with him at night, I get my fill. I’m tired of hearing that I need to let go, move on and nail the next piece of ass that walks through the door or shows up to buy hay from us. It’s not how I operate. Never has been. When Annamae left me for the greener pastures of Rufus, I didn’t start sleeping around. Hell I didn’t even care. That’s what tells me that shit between Savannah and I was real. I care that she’s gone. I care that I haven’t been able to speak with her every night. We were just getting started and deserve a chance to get together... if that’s what she wants.

  This is where everyone cheers for me and tells me to go get the girl. Yee-haw and all that happy horse shit. In order to do that, I need a passport and I don’t have a clue as to how I get one.

  The screen door slams behind me and the clatter of silverware against glass tells me that I’ve interrupted supper. One doesn’t simply interrupt supper at the McGuires’s – if you show up, you stay and eat. By the time I’m walking into the dining room, Sue is up and in the kitchen already fixing me a plate. I’ll never have the heart to tell her I just ate, or that my appetite hasn’t been the same since Savannah left because I’m afraid of hurting her feelings. Aunt Sue can cook and no man in the surrounding next ten counties over will pass up a meal fixed by her.

  Fried chicken, greens and fresh corn on the cob are set down in front of me. I haven’t been around as much, aside from work, and she knows why. It’s hard and we both miss Savvy. It’s just easier to stay busy and away from people who want to talk about her. Except for tonight.

  Before I can muster up the courage to ask for help, I dig in and let the wholesome goodness soak up the beer that’s festering in my gut. After a few bites and a nice ice-cold glass of milk to wash it down, I look at her aunt and uncle and prepare myself.

  “I want to go to Paris and get Savannah.”

  Aunt Sue gasps, but Uncle Bobby sets his fork down calmly and wipes his face on his sleeve.

  “What makes you think she’ll come back with you, boy?”

  Boy. Not son. Not Tyler, but boy. The overprotective side of him is showing in spades. It’s fine. He can be like that, but I’m an adult and Savannah will be one soon. Once she’s eighteen her mother can’t tell her what do anymore.

  “I don’t, but I want to try.”

  “You gonna make an honest woman out of her?”

  “Bobby,” Sue scolds, but he’s right and he also just showed his h
and. Savannah and I kept our relationship a secret. The only two who knew were Aunt Sue and Jeremiah. Neither of them would’ve sold us out, especially Jeremiah. He may be a gossip, but only when it’s for his benefit. Getting me fired, or having Savannah sent away wouldn’t aid him in any way. For the life of me I couldn’t understand why her mother suddenly had a change of heart about her being here and would send her off to Paris early out of the blue. It’s all starting to make sense now – Uncle Bobby knew about Savannah and I and mentioned us when her mother called.

  “He’s right, Aunt Sue,” I reply before turning my attention back to Uncle Bobby. “I imagine in your day, you courted Aunt Sue with the purest intentions. Unfortunately, times have changed and while that is no excuse, Savannah was happy here. Yes, she was looking forward to Paris, but I had a feeling she was going to stay.”

  “She didn’t though,” Bobby says, pointing out the obvious since she’s not sitting at the table with us now.

  “No, she wasn’t given a choice.”

  “You plan to give her a choice?” his voice is booming and authoritative. I’ve never really seen this side of Bobby before and honestly it scares me a bit. He’s giving new meaning to shaking in my boots.

  “Of course I do. It’s not like I’m going to go over there and drag her back, kicking and screaming.”

  Sue puts her hand on Bobby’s wrist to get his attention.

  “Bobby, he’s not asking for your permission, he’s asking for our help. We need to give it to him.” She’s right. I do need their help. I don’t know how to get a passport, not that I’m expecting either of them to, but Sue will know someone who knows someone. That’s how small towns work.