I glance at Jeremiah and wonder when he became the voice of reason. I’m next in line and starting to sweat, second-guessing what it is that I’m doing. My trip could be futile, or she could come back with me. That’s what I want: Savannah back in Texas and living at the ranch. I know that makes me selfish, but she was taken from me once before and I don’t want to lose her again.
The lady in front of me is done and now it’s my turn. Jeremiah is rocking on the heels of his cowboy boots wondering what I’m going to do. The clerk looks at me, her eyebrows raised and her back hunched. She’s already tired from her job of processing applications and I’m holding her up. Stepping forward, it’s do or die for me. Jeremiah pats me on the back. I’m not sure if that’s encouragement or his way of telling me to get the hell out of here. It’s a crap shoot. I know this. She either comes home, or she doesn’t. And there’s only one way to find out.
My application is stamped, and re-stamped. I’m sure the clerk has worked here long enough that she doesn’t have to read or check them. Or maybe she just takes them and some other, higher paid person processes them.
“Seven days,” she says without making eye contact and bellowing out, “next.” That’s it. I know nothing more or nothing less.
The walk back to the truck is met with Jeremiah going on about something irrelevant to my plight. He means well, but he doesn’t get it. He’s the guy that refuses to date a girl more than once, even though he’s met plenty of upstanding women in his day. Hell, a few of them I’d date if I weren’t hung up on a striking blonde who took my heart to Paris with her a month ago.
Getting involved was a mistake. I know this. But it happened and now I’m dealing with the consequences. If her mother hadn’t sent her away early, she’d just be getting ready to leave now. I would’ve used the time given to us wisely and showed her how much Texas means to her. Show her she belongs here and not in some ritzy country where she doesn’t speak the language. Make her see I can offer her everything, even when I know in order to do that I have to make a change. Living in a small house on borrowed land isn’t what Savannah wants for a future.
I need to be enough for her to want to come home. I’m all I have to offer and even I know it won’t be enough.
I’m not happy. Bobby isn’t happy. Neither is Jeremiah, but he’ll get over it. Bobby on the other hand is ignoring me and barking out orders. I know he’s pissed I took the day off to go to Austin. I work six days a week. I’ve only been sick once and am about to take a vacation. Most employers offer time off in addition to sick time. This is something we were taught in my business class. Bobby is all about business and making sure the ranch is running. I get that. I also get that I shouldn’t have taken Jeremiah with me.
We have other employees, but Bobby forgets that. The ranch is being taken care of, but I’m not here to solve all the problems so he can just work. Jeremiah is going to have to step up his game when I’m gone, otherwise I may not have a job to come back to.
Bobby is gruff. He’s a hard worker, but needs to slow down. It’s why I went to school, so I can take over the ranch. He just hasn’t been willing to let go yet. Maybe that’s a good thing considering I’m flying across the world to chase a girl who may not want to be chased.
Orders are barked as soon as Jeremiah and I enter the barn. Tools are being slammed around and curse words muttered. Aunt Sue doesn’t like it when we swear, so we try not to, but Bobby doesn’t care about that right now. He tells me that the crew on the back forty are hours behind and I need to head out there to find out what’s going on. So I do. I have no desire to sit around and be on the receiving end of his death glare.
Being alone in my head is the last thing I need right now, though. All I seem to be able to do is run through all possible scenarios of what could happen when I get to Paris, driving myself crazy. Will she jump in my arms when she sees me? Ask me what I’m doing there? Tell me to go home? It’s shitty that out of everything I can think of, I only have one positive thought. I wasn’t like this with Annamae and she and I were together a hell of a lot longer than I was with Savannah. Hell, Savvy and I aren’t even together. We spent a month making out and a moment having sex by the pond.
The girl is wicked. It’s the only way to sum up what I’m feeling. She has a hold on me and I can’t seem to break it. I don’t remember feeling like this when she left the first time. I know I moped around the house a bit, but I never asked to go to New York and get her. Probably because I knew she was coming back, or she was supposed to. Each
summer Savannah was supposed to come home, but never did. Her mother just left us all behind for her fancy job in the big city and forgot about us.
When I reach the land the other crew is working I can see what Bobby is talking about. The field was mowed days ago and ready for haying this morning, but only one-third of it is done. The guys stop working when they see me pull up in my truck. It’s not break time, but they seem to think it is.
I’m angry and frustrated as I slam the door and stalk over to where they’re now sitting in the shade.
“Y’all have two hours to finish this field. The bales need to be back to the barn before quitting time.”
“It’s too hot,” one of them says. There are only a few full-time employees; the others come in daily looking for work. Unfortunately, none of my full-timers are in this crew of five. Bad planning on my part and I’ll be here all night making sure the job is done because of it.
“Move to Alaska,” I say to the group, not caring who is belly aching as I turn away from them. When you live in Texas, it’s warm, hot or too hot. You get used to it.
One of them says something about quitting and that’s enough for me to lose my cool. I turn back around and look each of them in the eye. Not a single one of them pipes up now and not a single one of them cares.
“You’re done for the day. Pay will be ready at five. If you want to get paid, be at the gate.”
There’s moaning and groaning, inappropriate language being spread around, but I don’t care. I hop in the tractor and start getting the job done.
My ticket for France is non-refundable. If I don’t go, I lose the money. If I go, I could lose the girl. It’s a no win situation and a classic example of thinking with my heart and not my head. Someday, logic will win out, but not today.
Savannah
Last night I dreamt of Tyler. We were sitting in the back of his truck watching the sunset at the beach. His friends were there too, but he and I were lost in our own world. As night fell, he held me under the stars, keeping me warm even though it was still blazing hot outside.
I called him this morning, even though I knew he was sleeping. I secretly had hoped the ringing of the telephone would wake him. I just wanted to hear his voice. When the answering machine came on, I hung up. I don’t know why I didn’t leave a message, or yell his name so he’d startle awake and rush to the phone. I couldn’t bring myself to admit that he’s slipping through my fingers.
In a way, coming to France was a mistake. I’m not any closer to figuring out what I want to do here, except sightsee. My heart is torn in half. Part of me wants to go back to Texas and be with Tyler, but I’m afraid of what that means. The reason we left Texas was because my mother wanted something better for us. Could she have gone about it differently, yes, but she did what she felt was right. I don’t want to end up like her, pregnant as a teenager and alone. History often repeats itself and that’s my fear with Tyler.
The other half of me wants to stay here. I can get lost in the crowd and no one would be the wiser. Yes, school has to happen, but not for a while. I could move to London and study there, or just forgo college and work as a barista. Since meeting Zach, he’s opened my eyes to what the world could be. The possibilities are endless and he’s right. If I choose not to stay in Paris, it doesn’t mean I have to go back to New York or even Texas.
It’d be nice if all the answers to life were written in a book, or displayed in a vending machine. Hit a button and you get the secret to success. Hit another and you’ll find true happiness. I think I’ll take A7 today and insert my change. My reality is much more bleak, at least for another week. Next week I’ll turn eighteen. Zach will still be here, but I haven’t told him. He doesn’t even know how old I am. He hasn’t asked and I haven’t volunteered the information that his tour guide is still just seventeen.
Zach is an open book. He was born and raised in Detroit where his father still lives, working as a machinist. His mom died from cancer days after he enlisted in the Marines. He’s also on his second tour of duty and ready to be back in San Diego so he can take up surfing. Instead of going home to see his dad, he opted for a vacation away from life.