Feeling edgy, I say, “He has lots of others, too. This is just the only one I could get my hands on.”
“Mighty fine,” he says. “How old you say your friend is?”
“He’s eighteen.”
“His sense of light and shading is somethin’ to be reckoned with.
He studied art long?”
“I don’t believe so,” I say. “I reckon it just comes naturally.”
“Talented indeed,” he says, smiling at me. “I’d say serious potential even. Get him to come on by.”
“Thank you!” I say, taking back the picture. “I just knew you’d like it.” I head for the door.
“What you say your name was?” he asks.
“It’s Savannah,” I reply.
“And your friend?”
“Jackson. Jackson Channing.”
“I’ll be waiting on him,” he says, handing me his card.
Before I go, I poke my head into the Living Through Literature auditorium one last time. I reckon the program must have ended. There’s not a soul in there.
Oh well, I can’t wait to tell Jackson what all the man said. I get home quick as I can with my breathing pulling at me like it is, set the painting back up on the wall, and go for the phone. Forget about letting him stew, this is too dang big.
I get the machine. “Jackson, it’s Savannah. I’ve got something real important to tell you. Call me as soon as you get this.” I hang up and wait. But before long, I’ve got to head out to work.
By Saturday afternoon, Jackson still hasn’t called and I’m a wreck, sitting in my room trying to calm my breathing. We haven’t talked in four days. He didn’t even call after I left that message saying I had something important to tell him. I pushed too hard. I should have given him more room. Now I don’t know should I call him again or give him time. I keep pulling on my inhaler, but if I can’t get some air soon, I’ll have to let Mama in on this. She’s going to have to run me up to Mercy for sure. I thought the whole point of taking the durn medicine every day was to avoid this mess. I know that Dr. Jones told me I ought not let myself get all emotional, but it ain’t like I get to choose.
I’m writing in my journal when Mama yells at the top of her lungs, “Savannah!”
I don’t waste my breath on answering.
“Savannah!” she calls again. “You best come take a gander at this.”
I try real hard to act like my breathing is okay. Breath goes in, breath goes out. But as I get out to the living room, I see Mama by the open front door. And standing there on the front step, by Holy God, is Jackson Channing, looking like he done ran the whole way here.
I scream like I’ve seen a ghost. Mama starts laughing. But Jackson doesn’t move. He just stands there looking hurt and worried and breathing nearly as hard as I am. And right there and then, I know he loves me. I can see it pouring right out his eyes. I run and fling my arms around his neck and cry.
“What in the world are you doing here?” I ask.
He kisses my tears away. “I couldn’t do it no more,” he says. “Greenville, the body shop. I just couldn’t take it.”
“What about your mama?” I ask, remembering what he said about never cutting out on her.
“She gave me the go. Said you must be sump’n awful special to have such a hold over me.”
I can’t believe it—one minute worrying I done blown it and now, now . . . “Wait,” I say, “you don’t mean . . . ?”
He nods and points to his truck, a big old duffel bag in the back.
“You’re moving back here?” I shriek.
He nods and wraps me up in his arms.
Mama’s got her hand over her mouth like she can’t believe it either. “Well come on in. No sense hanging out on the porch with the bugs all afternoon. Let’s get this boy something cool to drink. After all, he drove out all this way.”
We come inside and sit and drink sweet tea. “Why didn’t you say something?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Didn’t want to get your hopes up, case it didn’t come together. That was why I couldn’t tell you what was botherin’ me.”
“Y’all won’t even believe this,” Mama says, “but Denny put up the HOUSEPAINTERS NEEDED sign again not two days ago.”
“Are you serious?” I say. She nods.
Jackson explains about the deal he made with the Channings to live over their garage. And I finally get to tell him about what the guy at the junior college said. Suddenly, I feel so happy, it seems like I got the opposite of asthma, like I got more air in my lungs than I know what to do with.
28
W
ith Jackson moving back here, I set aside that acceptance letter. Mama pitched a fit the day it was due, but she just doesn’t understand. Going up to the mountains can wait till I’m older. There’s no rush. Course I still feel a tweak of regret about missing out, but Jackson being here is way bigger.
Come lunchtime, I’m going to ride my bike up to where he’s working at so we can eat together. Stef ’s coming with me so she can finally meet him. I even swallowed my pride and invited Joie. She said she’s busy with some girls from school.
Whatever
.
Stef and I ride our bikes up to Jackson’s job with a bag of sandwiches and drinks.
“Joie couldn’t come. She had plans,” I tell Stef on the way.
“She’s been hanging out with the cheerleader girls at the mall, you know—Cyndi and Misty and their crowd.”
“Cheerleaders? That’s who she’s calling her ‘true friends’? Since when?”
“That night we ditched her,” Stef says. “I heard they saw her all upset with too many guys on her hands at the theater and took her under their wing.”
“Is that a fact?” I can’t hide my surprise. Those girls usually have their noses turned up so high they could rightly drown in a rainstorm.
Jackson waves at us as we reach the site. We set down our bikes and go over, and I introduce him to Stef. For some unknown reason, I feel nervous. I reckon I just want them to like each other.
“I sure have heard a lot about you,” Stef says.
“Likewise,” says Jackson, though I don’t think I’ve actually spent much of our precious time talking about Stef. I reckon he’s being polite, making it sound like I have.
“I hear you got brothers our age.” Stef grins.
“Girl!” I say. “What is your problem?”
“What? He’s cute. He’s got brothers. I’ve been recently dumped in a manner of speaking. I just thought if they was to come out and visit or what-have-you, I’d want Jackson to know I’m available.”
I roll my eyes, but the ice has surely been broken. Jackson laughs, and we all sit down to eat our tuna salad sandwiches with ice cold lemonade.
“I thought you had a boyfriend—Jimmy, wasn’t it?” Jackson asks.
I slap his thigh. “I told you what happened when he came to town,” I whisper.
“Oh, shoot, I’m sorry. I guess I forgot.”
Stef looks forlorn.
“I’m sure you deserve better than him,” Jackson says, smoothing things over.
“Damn right she does. You should see this girl dance,” I say, aiming to change the subject.
Stef grins. “I
am
a good dancer, I have to admit. Now, Savannah, she slow dances just fine, but soon as the music turns fast she gets all nervous and stiff.”
Now I’m slapping
her
thigh. “Shut up!”
They both laugh.
“Maybe you can come to some of our school dances this year,” Stef suggests. “They may not be as fancy as the deb balls or cotillions your cousins go to, but they’re still fun.”
“Maybe.” Jackson shrugs.
“We’ve got plenty of time to worry about that. Let’s don’t think about school,” I groan.
“It ain’t but a few weeks away,” she says.
I put my hands over my ears. “I can’t hear you. Lalalalalala.” Jackson pulls me to him and kisses the top of my head. We finish up eating, and then Stef has to rush off to babysitting and I’ve got to head to the library. Look at us all, working like grown-ups.
For supper, Mama cooks burgers made with onion soup mix and Tater Tots on the side.
“Jackson,” she says, “can you talk some sense into her? That acceptance letter is past due. But if she sends it in quick, they might still take her.”
“I know you can’t be serious,” I say. “
Hello!
Jackson just moved back out here. I can’t leave now.”
“But he wouldn’t want you to miss out on this opportunity. Would you?”
Jackson quits eating. “No, ma’am,” he says, and looks at me concerned.
“Do we have to talk about this every day?” Dog whines. “I’m sick to death of hearing about it. I’m done. Can I go to Dave’s?”
“All right then,” Mama sighs. “You want a ride? I need to talk to Gina anyway.”
“Why you always got to talk to her?” Dog growls.
“What in the world?” Mama asks. “Excuse me, but she is my best friend and I’ve barely had time to speak with her lately.”
“I don’t need no ride and you don’t need to be checking up on me all the time.”
“Well, excuse me! A simple ‘no, thank you,’ would have sufficed.” Mama shakes her head as Dog takes off.
I stand up. “We’re done, too. Can we go down to the beach? It’s still light out,” I add, just to be on the safe side.
“Please, y’all, just think about that program. This opportunity is too big to pass up.”
“Okay, okay,” I say, grabbing Jackson’s hand and pulling him out the door.
It’s still hot as blazes, but at least there’s a bit of breeze by the water. Jackson sits down in the sand and looks out there to the sea like I’ve seen him do before, like he expects to find some answers out that way. He unties his work boots and takes them off.
“You need some flip-flops,” I say. But then, I close my mouth and turn to stare out there, too, not wanting to talk, just wanting to sit together quietly.
“How come you don’t wanna go?” he asks.
Course I know he’s talking about the mountains. “You’re finally here,” I cry, feeling all sorts of pain welling up in my chest. “You can’t actually think I’m gonn’ up and leave now!”
“Your mama’s right. You cain’t pass on this kind of opportunity.
How many kids got a letter like that? You cain’t just say no.”
I shake my head, hating that he wants me to go.
“When I was stuck in Greenville, I thought it might be forever. I thought I might never get to be out here with you, might never get time to paint.” He chews on his lip for a few. “You held my dream for me. Your dream was to get outta here, get a chance to go to college, go see those mountains. That dream just up and landed in your lap and you gonn’ turn it down? Uh-uh.”
“I can’t leave you, Jackson.”
“Girl, if we ain’t strong enough to get through a couple months apart, what good are we? I ain’t going nowhere. I’ma be right here when you get back come Christmas, and we’ll pick up right where we left off.”
“But you came back out here to be with me.”
“Yes, I did. But I also came out here to have time to paint, and that’s what I’ll do while you’re away. When you get back, we’ll be together.”
“How do I know you ain’t gonn’ be trying no more
experiments
?”
I can see he’s hurt by that one. “’Cause you trust me,” he says real quiet.
“I don’t wanna talk about it no more,” I say.
“You don’t want to talk?” he teases. “
You
? I never thought I’d hear you say that.” Then he’s tickling me and we’re kissing. And I feel awful desperate.
As we head to the truck, I see Dog down the beach a ways. He’s messing around with some bigger boys. I pull Jackson in his direction.
“Dog,” I shout. “Where’s Dave at?”
He shrugs his shoulders like he can’t hear me, then waves, and takes off. He ain’t fooling me. I know he heard every word. I’m going to have to have a talk with him.
Mama just will not let it go. She’s yelling at me from morning to night about how I’m wasting my chance and destroying my future. Dog suddenly realized if I go he gets the room all to himself, so now he’s at my throat all day, too.
“Quit!” I shout. “I’m sick to death of y’all ganging up on me. I’m sorry y’all want me out of here so dang bad, but you’re stuck with me. So just hush!”
Mama looks hopeless. I hate disappointing her. I always have. But she just ain’t going to win this one.
Part of me feels real sad about letting it go. But the other part is just relieved I don’t got to think about it no more. I’ll still get to college and to the mountains. It’s just postponed is all. It’s not like I was expecting to go this soon anyhow. I got my dream-come-true with Jackson moving back here, and one dream ought to be enough for anybody.
On Jackson’s day off from work, he calls to say he’s got some business to take care of and he’s gone all day. In the evening, he takes me to dinner at Eddie’s. We go to the movies and out for ice cream. I bug him about going by to see that art guy at the junior college. But he seems tired, so I let it go. I’m just glad we ain’t talking about that dag program no more. Now we can settle down and let things get normal.
Me and Jackson are strolling along the beach. I love walking down here with him, the wind blowing my hair all around, the salty moisture on the breeze, the briny smell of the sea, and the bajillions of stars up in the sky, the Milky Way streaking clear across from one end to the other—like magic. We’re holding hands and just enjoying being close to one another, up quite a ways now from our usual part of the beach.
“Bought me some paints today,” Jackson says like it’s no big thing.
“Did you really? Mm-mm. I am proud of you. Canvases, too?” I ask, pleased as punch to see him chasing after that old dream of his.
He smiles, his eyes twinkling in the moonlight. But as we start walking again, we see a bunch of boys up ahead all in a huddle looking like they’re up to no good. I’m fixing to turn back the other way when Jackson says, “Wait here.”