“But I didn’t mean to hurt anyone. I would never have intentionally hurt her,” I said, feeling the sting of tears forming in my eyes. “I wouldn’t knowingly hurt anyone,” I said, letting the tears fall freely now.
“I know you wouldn’t,” he said, wrapping me in his arms.“But I believe you probably did today. And you’re going to have to make it right.”
Dad released me and headed toward the front of the store, but stopped to add, “I love you, Savannah. I wouldn’t hurt you for the world either. But you still have things to learn. You still have wisdom left to gain. And the best place to begin is in learning to guard your words. They are now more powerful than I believe you know.”
I made my way to my desk undetected. Who knew how many other people would feel like my father? About the time I got to my seat, two girls I had seen before but never met walked by my desk giggling and whispering until they spotted me. I smiled, but they didn’t. In fact, their faces went pretty much stone cold, expressionless. Not angry or malicious, just indifferent. Those two would probably take effort. I had no energy for effort today.
I wanted to hang my new picture. I had picked the perfect place, just to the left of my books on the top shelf. That way, anytime I needed a pick-me-up, I could just look up and catch a glimpse of its vibrant tones. But why hang it up when I would surely be fired before the day’s end? I left Paige’s artwork leaning against the bookcase and spent the morning trying to look busy, while Friday loomed like a stalker with pink stationery. If anyone felt half as much concern as my father, the only thing left to write was a formal apology to the city, Emma, Ichabod over the door, and resign myself to becoming a tour guide.
To my great relief, Joshua never appeared. Marla called me around nine thirty to tell me she had just “loved every little word” I had written on those pages. “It was like a painter had created a masterpiece.”Then, she added,“But the lady who’s headed back to you now, well, she might not feel quite the same way.”
Emma, in fine form for a Spray and Wash commercial, rounded the corner while I still held the receiver in my hand.
“I can’t believe you,” she hissed, waving her newspaper in my face. I stood up to at least be able to block any blows she might be contemplating.“How could you?”
“Emma, I know. It was kind of insensitive . . .”
“Kind of insensitive? Who do you think you are?”
“Ooh, whoa doggies. Let’s go outside and talk. We don’t need to bring the whole office into this.”
“Are you kidding me? You brought the entire city into this! I just want to know, Miss Priss, who died and made you judge and jury? When did you decide that I needed you to take me up as your cause?”
“Well, I was trying to—”
“I’m not a cause, Savannah; I’m a person. A person you single-handedly turned into a complete and utter laughingstock,” she said. Every blood vessel in her face pulsed beneath her pale skin.
I caught her eyes. At once I saw both anger and hurt. Dad’s revelation became my own. “Emma, you’re right. I’m so sorry. I’ll retract everything on Friday.”
“Your retraction won’t help, Savannah. It’s done. It’s all done. You can’t undo it. You said it yourself, with your own words, in your own little paper.‘The choices you make to affect people’s lives are done,’” she mimicked. “‘You can alter the future, but the path is forever marked with reminders of past losses,’” she said, throwing the newspaper at my feet.
The sound startled me. “I said all that?”
“Yes, you said all that. Well, take a close look at what you’ve accomplished. Not only have you embarrassed me, but my children, Savannah. My children now get to go to school and listen to what other children say about their mother. You think about that, Savannah. Even if you had no thought about how this might affect me, I would have hoped you cared more about my children.”And with those words, she turned her greased locks around and left me to wallow in my own misery.
“Long day?” Curly Locks appeared from nowhere, picking up the scattered paper and throwing it away.
“You don’t know. And I don’t want to hear your comments about my article,” I said, flopping to my chair and laying my head on my desk.
I could feel him kneel down beside me.“Well, it wasn’t all bad. I mean it was bad, but not all bad.”
“Any bad negates any good,” I said, starting to cry.
“Not all the good.”
“Yes, any good.”
“At least she didn’t hit you.”
I tried to stifle my laugh, but I couldn’t. I sat up.
“Ooh, Ms. Phillips needs a tissue.”
“Sorry,” I said, reaching across my desk for a tissue. I blew hard and wiped off my face.“I didn’t realize I would hurt her. What was I thinking? I am a complete idiot.”
“A complete idiot. That’s harsh. Partial idiot, certainly. But I’m not sure what you were thinking either. I mean, what were you thinking?”
“I don’t want to have this conversation with you. I’ve had a long morning, and I’m tired, and I really can’t stay here anymore,” I said matter-of-factly.
“What? Are you going to quit after your first article?”
“I have no choice. You heard what I did to her. Have mercy! I have affected her children! I should have stuck to fiction.” I stood up, feeling the anger rise.“I was supposed to write books, to make people laugh and smile. To tell stories of crazy people that weren’t real. That way, at the end of the day, no one would be hurt or angry or remove their children from my path when I walk by. This is all my mother’s fault.”
“Obviously, you have deeply rooted, unresolved issues with your mother.”
“Oh, that’s good, Sherlock. Do you charge for your therapeutic services?”
“You couldn’t afford me.”
“Well then it’s a good thing I don’t need you.” I turned on my heels and headed to the elevator.“I don’t need counseling. I know what I have to do.”
“You may know what you have to do, but you definitely need counseling. And if you want my opinion, you’re making a mistake.
And this isn’t about your mother.” I threw my hands over my ears and continued in forward motion, singing “la, la, la.”
Of course, there was no secretary at Mr. Hicks’s office. I knocked on his half-open door and waited for him to allow me to enter.
“Come in, Ms. Phillips.”
“Mr. Hicks, I just wanted to let you know that I’ll be taking my things and leaving today. I know I’ve done nothing but desecrate Gloria’s good name, and I won’t put you through any further embarrassment or shame by having my name associated with your paper. I’ll write a brief apology for Friday and you don’t have to worry about paying me.”
“Oh, really.”
“Yes, really, and truth be known, I should probably give you money for rent space. So, anyway, thank you for the opportunity. I’m sorry I wasn’t capable of more, but I appreciate your taking a risk on me at all. Good luck, Mr. Hicks. I hope you find someone worthy to take Gloria’s place.” I began my exit.
“I did find someone worthy to take Gloria’s place,” he said, stopping me in my tracks.“And if she would learn to give other people a chance to speak before she makes such hasty exits, she might learn a thing or two along the way.” He stood and pointed to a chair.“Sit.”
He sat on the edge of his desk, arms folded neatly across his belly. I took the seat across from him.“You’re a good writer, Savannah. You tell a story. You teach us lessons. You even taught me a lesson. You challenged me to see the potential in the people who work for me. It is precisely because of what you wrote in that article, Savannah, that I’m not letting you walk out that door and go home.”
“Because of what I wrote?”
“Yes, when I first read your piece, I was furious at your carelessness. The things you said about Emma were downright indefensible.”
“Yes, they were.”
“They may hav
e been true, but not your truth to put into print. But the other things you said made me realize you are one of those people within my realm of influence. You are one that needs to be guided and grown and matured. I’m here to help you do that. And today, you’ve learned the lesson you needed to learn.”
“Remind me again of what that is.”
“You’ve learned you have much to learn. That will make you from this day forward a better writer than you ever dreamed of being. You won’t leave. Instead, you’ll go down there and write an article for Friday—better, wiser, and more powerful than the one you wrote today. Now go. And I don’t want to see you again until you deliver me your article tomorrow afternoon.”
“Thank you,” I said, swallowing my tears. “Thank you. You’re a good man, Mr. Hicks. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
The clock on my desk said noon. The Lady & Sons was waiting. I would go. But only after I hung up my picture.
CHAPTER THIRTY
It wasn’t hard to locate my lunch companion. She was the one in the back, standing on her tiptoes, wearing a bright purple pantsuit with lipstick that matched her suit perfectly.“Yoo-hoo! Savannah! I’m over here.” I sighed and made a point of avoiding eye contact with anyone. Today of all days, I didn’t want the Purple People Eater yelling my name across a crowded restaurant.
I tried to sit Amber down with the wave of my hand, but she continued making a spectacle until I took my seat across from her.
“Savannah Phillips,” she started, “I had no idea in this world that you were going to write an article on beauty pageants. I mean, you should have interviewed me. I could have told you a thousand stories,” she began in her animated way, not stopping to breathe. “I mean, Savannah, I have competed in more pageants than most women this side of Decatur.” And then she laughed a ludicrous laugh; a laugh that totally appreciated the fact that she probably had competed in more pageants than the sum total of all the women I know.
To my inexpressible relief, the waitress came quickly. I ordered Coke and asked her to keep them coming. I also ordered the baked spaghetti, voted the best in the South by Fodor magazine, even though I hardly had the appetite for it. Amber ordered a salad with no dressing but, true to her word, caved in and had sweet tea.“This is the only place I break down to have sweet tea. But I just can’t help it,” she said, as if this life necessity needed justification.
I stared at her in pity. This poor child was probably going to live her entire life eating less than a toy poodle. Chatty Cathy started up again, reminding me that the only pleasure in lunch with her was knowing I could eat without ever having to say a word.
“Savannah, I didn’t realize everything Emma has been through. That child just sounds plumb pitiful.”
I wanted to tell her she looked plumb pitiful, but it didn’t seem appropriate.
“I think one afternoon I’m going to stop at her house and offer to take her out or something. I might even go to that Katherine’s Corner Bookstore and buy her a book.”
“You read?” I asked. I felt bad as soon as it came out; she was unfazed.
“Well, sure. I mean, just yesterday I was reading People magazine. Do you ever read that, Savannah? I just love hearing about the lives of the stars. I mean, did you know that Jennifer Aniston—”
I held up one hand.“Amber, there’s one thing you need to know about me. I don’t live in the land of need-to-know, unless someone deems I need to know. So let’s not spend lunch talking about people. Why don’t you tell me about you? Tell me about your job.”
“Whatever you say, but you told the whole city about Emma.”
I tried to catch my breath. Amber had just shown me myself. But she didn’t stop to ponder the revelation with me. “Oh, I just love my job. You know, your mother helped me get it. Miss Victoria is just the sweetest thing I’ve ever met. She saw me at the pageant my last year and we got to talking. I had already been out of school for a year and was working at the bank. I knew I could do so much more, but nothing had opened up yet. When your mother mentioned the job as director of tourism, I saw doors swinging wide open. So I jumped at the chance, and between the two of us we have made this place come alive.” I barely heard her, still mulling over my need-to-know revelation.
“But you know my greatest goal, that is if I don’t ever win Miss United States of America, is to win Mrs. United States of America,” she said, actually stopping long enough to take a sip of her tea.
“Do what?!” I asked, fully present again.
“Oh, yeah. When I get married—and I’ve got my eye on a fellow now—but when I get married, I want to be Mrs. United States of America. I mean, surely I can win that. I’ve already got the wardrobe. That’s why I try to keep my figure, you know.” She pointed to the uneaten salad before her.“Yeah, the pageant’s in California, so once I get married, all I have to do is just keep rehearsing my talent and staying up on current events. You never know when you might snatch Mr. Right, and you need to be ready.
“I practice all the time anyway,” she continued. “I practice walking in my evening gown and answering questions on stage. I just stand in front of the mirror in my bathroom and use my brush for a microphone, then I ask myself questions, like I’m the emcee. Then I step to the other side of the bathroom and answer the question I just asked. I did really good last night. I got all the answers right.” Spaghetti about flew out of my mouth on that one, but I recovered. “So when I get married, it will just be a natural recession.” I do believe a noodle lodged in my throat at that exact moment.
“You know, Savannah, you could have interviewed me,” she said, getting all pitiful.
“Amber, my story wasn’t about the quest to win a pageant,” I said, trying to sound as diplomatic as possible.
“Oh, I know. It was about losing pageants.”
“No, it wasn’t just about losing pageants. Did you read it?”
“Yes, I read it. I do read, Savannah,” she said, acting slightly irritated. “But I’ve lost pageants. I know what that’s like. I could have shared my story.”
“I told you, Amber, the article wasn’t just about losing. The article was about different things. It was about the treasure of a destiny, the loss of a destiny, and the lessons we learn along the way. And a multitude have been learned by me today, trust me.”
“What are you talking about? What have you learned?”
“Multitudes. But back to you. After your losses, did you make any life-changing decisions, other than just to compete again? I mean, if you don’t win Miss United States of America, or Mrs. United States of America, are you going to start a Mrs. Senior United States of America?”
“You should bite your tongue. But actually there already is a—”
“Oh, please, tell me it’s not true,” I said, throwing my head back in utter disbelief.
“Well, I can’t help it, but there is,” she said, patting me on the arm and forcing me to look up at her purple mouth. “But I made a decision too, Savannah,” she said, laying her fork down.“I made a decision after each loss, the decision to keep going, to keep trying. I’m not sure why. To someone like you, it probably sounds silly.
“But I determined a long time ago that of all the things I really wanted, I really want this. I really enjoy it all. Every aspect. Every moment of success erases every time I didn’t hear my name called. So I keep trying. I keep waiting for the moment that some magical host will sing a song just for me. And everyone will stand around the stage and for that one moment, I will be the most special person in the room. Fortunately, I’ll have the opportunity until I’m dead.” She laughed in amusement at her ceaseless opportunity.
It struck me that inside Amber lay a desperate need to be approved. “But you’ve heard your name called, Amber. Every local pageant you’ve won has given you that moment, several actually. When will it be enough? When is it enough applause or enough adulation or enough praise? At some point, the need to be approved by others has to bow to the need to simply appreciate yourself, don
’t you think? You’re beautiful. You’re a tad extreme, but you’re a nice young woman. You’re talented. You have a great job. You get to take people into an unfamiliar place and make them feel at home.”
“You think I do all of that?”
“Yes, you do. But I get the sense that’s not enough for you.”
“Not enough?”
“Well, is it? Let me tell you: I believe that inside each of us is a hole only one thing will ever fill. You can try to measure out its space and search the world over, but you won’t find it there. It’s an eternal purpose, and only eternity can fill what it created. No tiara or applause or walk down the runway with Lawrence Welk’s bubbles will fill what heaven created in you. Every pageant judge this side of Dallas might declare you a perfect ten, but until you realize that’s not true victory, you will never be happy. It’s time to look up, Amber. It’s the only place eternal things are found.”
The tears that sat on the brim of her counterfeit eyelashes were proof that she had, for the first time, really heard me. And for the first time since I had met Miss Amber Topaz Childers, she was speechless. I was pretty wasted myself. Because as much as I was speaking to her, I was certain I was also speaking to myself.
Her brief inability to communicate gave me the opportunity to look at my watch, which read 1:10.
“I’m so sorry to have to leave,Amber, but I’ve got to get back to work.” She still never spoke. And I wasn’t quite sure what to do with her there. So I stood up, grabbed my purse, and put my hand on hers. I knew I might hate myself in the morning, but at that moment, there was only one appropriate response. “I’ll be your friend,Amber. A real friend. I won’t always tell you what you want to hear, but I will always tell you the truth. I’ll get lunch. And we’ll talk soon.”
She looked up at me with dark brown eyes covered by green contact lenses, making them a lovely shade of ocean. She smiled slightly. A genuine Amber smile, not a smile of competition, not an interview moment. I returned it, understanding in that moment we really weren’t so different after all.
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