Savage News

by Jessica Yellin

  Sarah shook her head. “Mom’s aesthetic may have changed, but her love affair with department store diffusers is alive and well.”

  The room was filled with massive pillows upholstered in Native American chevron patterns, not a piece of furniture in the place. As soon as the door of the room was closed, Natalie pulled out her iPhone. Unchecked for a terrifying ten minutes, it was alive with notifications; twenty-four new notifications on Twitter, thirty new followers on Snapchat, twenty-two new friend requests on Facebook. Each notification made her feel more invigorated, just the shot in the arm she needed.

  “Natalie? What are you doing?” Sarah asked.

  Natalie answered without looking up from her phone. “Checking my messages on social. I have almost five hundred new followers and a ton of messages in the last hour because I got to anchor this morning. It’s crazy.” She toggled over to Instagram. She’d forgotten to check her Insta account.

  “You have a follower right here, who would love your attention,” Sarah said and there was an unfamiliar edge in her sister’s voice. “Not to mention a wedding that’s waiting on you.”

  Natalie looked up and saw that Lulu was staring adoringly at her. Overcome with a wave of shame, she dropped onto her knees and held out her arms, gesturing for Lulu to come give her a hug. Cronkite rushed in at the same time as Lulu and three of them fell over and started rolling around on the ground, clutched in a big furry ball.

  “I’m sorry,” Natalie said, looking up at Sarah from the floor. “I’m being a jerk. I’m just distracted and stressed and tired and the traffic was awful.”

  “Gramma says you’re selfish,” Lulu offered. “And she says you always put work first just like Grandpa did.”

  Even in the safe warmth of the hug, the words stung. Since meeting Gerald, her mother had become increasingly critical of her dad. He’d been selfish to work so hard. He was more interested in reading than in spending time with his family. He had punished her by dying. Since her mother enjoyed pointing out how much Natalie was like her father, the insults began to feel transferable.

  “I can’t remember. Did Mom put Dad down this much when he was alive?” Natalie asked.

  Sarah’s face wrinkled. “What are you talking about?”

  Natalie did her best Noreen imitation. “I used to be miserable, but now with my new life I have art and orgasms.”

  “What is an orgasm?” Lulu asked.

  “Something grown-ups get,” Natalie told her.

  “Like divorces?”

  Natalie shook her head. “Not really like divorces. Nicer.”

  “Orgasm,” Lulu repeated.

  Sarah mouthed, “I am going to kill you.”

  Natalie gave her a wide-eyed look and mouthed back, “I’m sorry.”

  “Do you like Gramma’s new house?” Lulu asked Natalie.

  “It’s a lot different than the house we grew up in,” she answered vaguely. To Sarah she said, “I just don’t understand why every time Mom talks about how happy she is, she has to put Dad down. It’s like she has to make him awful in order to prove she’s better off now.”

  “Um, I don’t think Mom is trying to be happy to get back at Dad. She is just trying to go on with her life.” Sarah gave her a concerned-sister look. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m great. Why are you asking like that?”

  “You aren’t using your happy voice,” Lulu said.

  “No, you’re not,” Sarah agreed.

  Natalie knew that it was Sarah’s nature to worry. And as much as she loved and respected her sister, they lived in different worlds. Sarah was a naturopath in Charlottesville and a mom. There was no way she could understand what Natalie was up against.

  “I’m fine.” Natalie’s fingers itched to get back to her phone. “I just need to do a quick change before the hellebration starts.”

  Her father would have understood. She looked at Cronkite and could swear he understood.

  “What’s a hellebration?” Lulu asked.

  “Something that starts in ten minutes sharp.” Sarah was speaking to her daughter, but Natalie got the message.

  “Nearest bathroom?” Natalie asked as she pulled her bridesmaid dress out of the closet, then paused a moment to appreciate it. On the hanger, the look was macramé on top, tea cozy on the bottom.

  “Whoa,” Natalie said.

  “Not bad when you consider it’s made of soy, spandex, and bamboo,” said Sarah, adding, “Use the bathroom to the left. It has only three dream catchers.”

  “Only three dr—?” Natalie broke off as Sarah nodded solemnly. “Oh. Oh my.”

  “Yes. You don’t want to know about the bathroom down the hall.”

  Natalie set the timer on her phone for five minutes as she headed to the bathroom on the left to fix her makeup. As she caught sight of herself in the mirror, she gasped and thought her mother had a point. She looked like a drag queen after a long night out. Getting to work, she peeled off her fake eyelashes, pulled out her makeup brushes, and started toning down her fuck-me-now eye shadow.

  With one eye still on her makeup, she started thumbing through the messages on her phone. It was mostly more friends and followers, but there was a text from Matt begging her to send a photo of herself in the bridesmaid dress, and another from Andrea, Ryan’s producer, that read, I might have something for you. Where can I find you this afternoon?

  Natalie frowned, surprised. What could Ryan’s producer want to share? Maybe it had something to do with the Mr. and Mrs. Bickerson performance from the anchor set this morning.

  Warily, she typed back, I’m at a family wedding but reachable after the ceremony. Call you in a few hours? She paused and, after a moment’s hesitation, added, Is it about this morning?

  She hit Send and the reply popped up quickly. Great. I’ll reach out in about an hour.

  Standing in a mango-scented bathroom with three dream catchers and her makeup half on, Natalie’s heartbeat picked up a little. What could Andrea want? Why didn’t she give a hint?

  “Natalie?” It was Sarah on the other side of the door. “Are you on the phone?” It was a judgment, not a question. “It is time for you to get off the phone and join the wedding like everyone else. Lulu and I are going downstairs where we are all waiting for you.”

  Shit.

  “I’ll be right out,” Natalie called out, shame washing over her. From her toiletries case she grabbed another brush to smooth down her hair and spotted the pills from Matt she’d brought along. Yes, that was just what she needed. She popped a Xanax and cupped her hands to wash it down with water from the sink. Then she checked her watch.

  The ceremony was supposed to start in two minutes, perfect timing. Feeling calmed down at the knowledge that the cottony Xanax buzz was coming, she sprayed her hair, added a layer of mascara, slipped on her high heels, and headed downstairs to join the wedding party.

  * * *

  The wedding march was already playing when Natalie met Sarah at the back of the lawn. Her sister barely made eye contact which meant she was furious, but she knew Sarah never stayed mad at her for long. Looking around at the attending guests, Natalie saw almost no familiar faces. Blessedly, the pill kicked in when they were halfway down the petal strewn aisle of grass.

  As Natalie stood to the side of the minister, opposite her new step-family-in-laws, she found herself wondering how Gerald’s long gray ponytail managed to sprout from his otherwise bald head and why he’d decided maroon and orange were the colors he wanted to get married in. She was in such a daze, she didn’t register the vows or any part of the ceremony until the minister loudly declared them man and wife. Gerald went in for a full-on French kiss.

  As soon as it was appropriate, Natalie told her mother and Gerald she was happy for them and ducked into the downstairs bathroom to check her phone. No voice mails. Not a text or email from Andrea. Pushing away
her disappointment, she tucked the phone in a drawer filled with hand towels for easy access and rejoined the wedding party.

  The photos went by in a blur. Natalie smiled, sucked in her gut, turned this way, faced that way, and rearranged as ordered. There were shots with Gerald’s sons and without, with Gerald and without. This was absolutely the way to attend a wedding, Natalie thought, happy in her buzzy haze. When the Savage women finished posing for a mother-daughter-granddaughter series, the photographer said, “That’s all. Great job, ladies.”

  Natalie excused herself to use the ladies’ room again.

  Feeling relaxed and like the world was a bit soft around the edges, she sat on the closed toilet and checked her phone. Where before there was nothing, now there were two missed calls, a voice mail from Andrea, and a bunch of emails. While she was sitting there, her phone rang.

  “Natalie, it’s Andrea. I’ve been trying to reach you.”

  Natalie felt her heart race pick up with anticipation.

  “I want you to know, I think you’re really good at what you do. This is your beat and you deserve this story,” Andrea said.

  At once, Natalie was no longer feeling relaxed or fuzzy but bursting with curiosity. “I appreciate that, Andrea,” she said cautiously.

  “Check your inbox. I’ve sent you a few emails. Obviously you’ll need to report it out, but it all fits.” Natalie put the call on speakerphone and, heart racing, opened the first email from Andrea. It read, Huntington Recovery Center, Arizona.

  Andrea continued, “You’ll find the name and address for an addiction rehab center in Arizona. I’m told that’s where the First Lady has been hunkered down.”

  Heart now pounding so loudly she could hardly hear, Natalie opened the second email. There were three photos. She tapped them and they started downloading—slowly.

  “There are also a bunch of surveillance pictures of that mystery man, Anthony, arriving at the facility,” Andrea was saying. “It’s the same guy from the videos of FLOTUS.”

  Natalie’s blood was sizzling with excitement. FLOTUS. In rehab. And we have the exclusive? Correction, I have the exclusive.

  “How did you get these?” Natalie heard herself whisper.

  “I can’t say. But you can check my work. You should.” Andrea cleared her throat.

  There was an angry knock at the door, and her mother’s voice saying, “Natalie! Natalie, are you in there?”

  Natalie sucked in her breath and covered the phone. “Sorry, Mom. I’ll be right there!”

  “We need you. You’re keeping everyone waiting,” her mother hissed.

  Turning back to the phone, Natalie asked Andrea the question she had to know the answer to. “Why are you giving these to me? Shouldn’t you share them with Ryan?”

  Andrea sounded defeated. “I hate how sensationalist and shallow our coverage has been. This isn’t why I became a journalist. You know I told you it’s still possible to do great reporting at ATN. I want that to be true. It’s just—” She stopped herself. “Doesn’t matter. Point is, Ryan deserves some real competition and you’re a good reporter,” Andrea said. “Good luck.”

  When she hung up, Natalie felt her body start to tingle. The story was going to be huge, and it was her scoop. Hers. She wanted to hug Andrea and shower her with something... Xanax happiness. She checked her watch. There would be plenty of time to get through the rest of the wedding and still get into the story tonight. She’d fly to Arizona as soon as possible and confirm FLOTUS was in residence before anyone else figured it out.

  There was more knocking, slightly less angry. On the other side of the door Sarah said, “Seriously, Natalie you need to get out here. The photographer is ready for you and you’re holding everything up.”

  Natalie dropped her phone into the drawer and threw open the door. Her mother was there, visibly seething, with Sarah beside her. “I don’t know who you think you are, but you are not acting like the daughter your father knew.” Her mother’s lips were narrow, her eyes slits. Natalie looked over at Sarah, who again avoided her eyes.

  “I thought the photos were over,” Natalie said simply. “I didn’t know I was inconveniencing anyone.”

  “I am doing a series with each of my children, alone,” Noreen explained. “You are still my child, aren’t you?”

  “Of course, Mom.” Natalie sighed. “I’m sorry. I was wrong to rush off.”

  “Fine,” her mother said. Natalie’s frankness seemed to have Noreen on the ropes, but it lasted just a moment. “Please fluff your hair first.”

  Wearing her best for-the-camera smile, Natalie allowed herself to be led into the backyard where the photographer was staging the photos. She let herself be posed in front of her mother, Noreen’s arms wrapped around her waist. It felt more threatening than maternal and Natalie tensed at the proximity.

  “You know, Natalie, I’m starting a new life with Gerald. That means I can’t mother you anymore,” Noreen said as they smiled at the camera. “You’re going to have to start taking care of yourself. Be an adult.”

  Natalie frowned. She earned her own money, paid her bills, lived on her own. How was she not taking care of herself?

  “And can we see a smile, please?” The photographer was looking at Natalie, who hadn’t realized she was frowning. “Good. Now if the two of you will face each other but bring your eyes here. Lovely.”

  “I’m telling you this for your own good,” Noreen went on through her teeth. They were standing front to front and Natalie could see the small lines around her mother’s eyes and lips. They made her seem almost human.

  “You know they are now growing organs in laboratories?” Noreen said, still smiling. “Soon people will be able to have a second liver or new lungs on hold. Your generation could live well past a hundred. And if you’re going to be here that long and single, you have to start building a future with security.”

  Almost.

  “You ladies are doing great,” the photographer said. “I can feel the love there. Let’s see some teeth with those smiles.”

  “Have I told you about my marvelous new guru?” Noreen said, flashing a wide grin. “So wise. Really just full of wisdom.”

  Natalie doubted it. Tilt head, breathe, smile, she began to recite, to tune her mother out.

  “He’s advised us to simplify our lives,” Noreen went on.

  Tilt head, nice calm eyes, smile, Natalie recited.

  “So I’ve decided to simplify the dog.”

  Tilt head, relax—“What?” Natalie asked, bewildered.

  “One more pose,” the photographer said. “Let’s have you turn back to back with your heads touching. Beautiful. Now let your joy beam out through your smiles.”

  Natalie thought it was amazing no one had murdered this photographer. “What does that mean, simplify Cronkite?” she repeated while beaming her joy.

  “Put him to sleep,” Noreen answered.

  Natalie felt her beam dim. “You’re kidding, right? You can’t put Cronkite to sleep.”

  “He’s too old to rehome,” Noreen warned in a happy singsong voice. “Even the pound won’t take him. He’s had a good long life. Why not end it while he’s still happy? With the new cocktails, they say it’s a very peaceful passing. Really, it’s doing him a favor. No need to make a scene.”

  The photographer said, “And now let’s try a saucy hand on the hip. Perfect. Noreen, you’re a natural. Natalie, dear, if you could get a little closer to your mother.”

  A scene? Natalie thought. She wanted to make a whole opera. “There’s nothing wrong with Cronkite. You can’t kill an animal just because it is inconvenient.”

  “Well, I don’t recall seeing you this concerned about my well-being,” Noreen said, smiling over Natalie’s shoulder. “When was the last time you inconvenienced yourself for me?”

  Natalie’s jaw was starting to cramp from a
ll the smiling. “I’m here, aren’t I? You have no idea how hard I worked to get here.”

  “Yes, you are so very important. You and your career,” Noreen said, her tone as forced as her smile. “You sound exactly like your father. And if you keep up this way, you’ll end up just like him.”

  “Dead?” Natalie squeezed out from between her teeth.

  Noreen shifted to give the camera a different angle on her jaw line. “Dissatisfied and trying to make sure everyone else is, too.” She tipped her chin up. “The dog goes with you or it goes to the vet. That’s all there is to it. This is the humane thing to do.”

  Smile, smile, smile. “I don’t have my own apartment, and I travel nearly seven days a week. I can’t have a dog.”

  Noreen put her hand on Natalie’s arm and smiled up into her face. “No man, no home. No wonder you’ve been trying all day to ruin my wedding.”

  Natalie pulled away. “That is not true. I have not been trying to ruin anything.”

  “Smiles,” the photographer said pointedly. “Let’s remember to smile.”

  “Sarah thinks you’re unaware of your behavior, but I think you know exactly what you’re doing,” Noreen told her in a musing sort of voice.

  Sarah? She was lined up against her, too? The sharp pain of betrayal she’d experienced earlier came back now, even more keenly. It had always been her and Sarah against the world.

  Or so she’d thought. A knot began to form in Natalie’s stomach.

  “One more and we’re done,” the photographer said. “Let’s make it a candid. Anything you want. Ladies’ choice.”

  Natalie wondered if vomiting on your shoes was an option, but before she could suggest it Noreen pulled her close and tilted to rest her forehead on her daughter’s. Smiling into her eyes, Noreen said, “Your father is dead, Natalie. It’s time to accept that. There is nothing in the world less attractive than a daddy’s girl without a daddy.”

  The words affected Natalie like a physical slap, jolting her, waking her up from the complacent stupor she’d been in and making it clear what she needed to do next.