Savanah's Swan Song (Part 8)

By her fourth week in the country, Savanah was going stir-crazy.  Not because she was stuck inside, but because she’d taken up baking, and most of her waking hours were spent churning a wooden spoon in a mixing bowl.  Apart from wearing a path in the Pergo from her bedroom to the kitchen, it was the only exercise she got.

When Savanah wasn’t baking brownies, cookies, or fudge, she was eating them on the sofa with her mother.  Between the gameshows, the gossip, and the daily doings and screwings at General Hospital, there wasn’t a call for much else. 

Until that call came.

The women ignored the ringing phone as usual.  It was likely a pollster, a bill collector, or a reporter looking for the inside scoop on Savanah.  One hack had even left a message wanting a response to a recent Parisian interview where ‘Savanah’ had apparently said she “never wanted to go home again.”  The mother/daughter tandem giggled on the sofa as the message was being left, tapping the tips of their brownies together as if to say, “We’ll eat to that!”

This time, however, the voice on the machine elicited a different response. 

“Hello?”

Savanah froze mid-bite, the chocolate from the fresh-from-the-oven cookie burning her mouth.

“Hello?  Are you there?  It’s me.”

Shit.  Savanah spit the liquid lava into her hand and scrambled to her feet.

“Anyway, I’m home.  We’ll be sending a car for you tomorrow.” 

The sweats-clad pop star scurried into the kitchen, grimacing as she clipped her hip on the corner of the counter.

“I’ve missed you.”

Savanah yanked the receiver off the wall with her clean hand.  “Heloaf?” she said, her cookie-coated mouth still burning.

He was gone.

“Who was that?” Her mother called from the living room.

Savanah returned the receiver to its cradle.  “Chad.”

“He sounded nice.”

Savanah didn’t respond; she was too busy steadying herself against the Formica countertop.  It took a moment for her to recover…and another moment to realize that her fluttering heart and weak knees weren’t from the prospect of seeing her beau again or the rare blast of exertion needed to reach the receiver.

Her humanoid had been right.  She really didn’t want to go home again.

***

The next morning, Momma served a final feast of flapjacks.  Savanah ate as if it were her last meal before execution.  

“We’ll miss you!” Momma cried, engulfing Savanah in a bear hug as the trio rose from the table.  As her hands jiggled her daughter’s nascent back fat, she whispered, “Glad we could give you a little something to take home with you.”

Savanah pulled away.  “What?”

“Charlie!”  Momma pointed to the stuffed dog on the kitchen counter that had been gifted to Savanah that morning.  The scruffy brown mutt held a Valentine's heart emblemized with “Family Forever.” 

“Oh, right.”

Next, it was Skeeter’s turn for a hug.  She’d hardly eaten anything that morning, same as all the previous mornings, and it showed.  She wasn’t quite back to vintage “Skinny Skeeter” territory, but she’d lost a lot of her baby fat and was looking more mature.

“It was nice to get my big sister back,” she said, giving Savanah a generous squeeze. 

Savanah thought she detected a subtle emphasis on the word ‘big,’ but chalked it up to paranoia.  Until the embrace ended and Skeeter gave a Pilsbury Doughboy-like poke to her abdomen—

“What happened here?”

Savanah reflexively sucked in and covered the area with her hand.  That’s when she felt a sticky substance on her palm.  She’d spilled syrup on her sweats.

“Shit.”

Savanah hurried to her room to change.  She hadn’t done laundry since she’d arrived and nothing clean was left in her bags.  She briefly considered a pair of white jeans she’d worn only once, on the second day, but thought better of it.  Instead, opting for a pair of purple Spandex.  Unlike her pink cotton sweatpants, which had been her loungewear of choice, the snappy material dug into her waist so tightly she couldn’t see the band unless she hiked them up so high she looked like the old men who played checkers outside the Piggly Wiggly. 

Savanah had never wanted a swig from Momma’s jug more.  

“Savanah, honey,” came her mother’s voice accompanied by a knock at the door.  “There’s a dark-skinned fella named Robbie in the driveway.  Says he’s here for you.”

Maybe more than just a swig.

***

After a final round of goodbyes, Savanah was in the back of Concurrent Technology’s Cadillac as it retraced its tracks to civilization.  Although she was nervous about returning to the limelight, it felt good to be inside the luxury vehicle’s insular bubble.  Air conditioning.  Leather seats.  Tinted windows.  A first-class environment free from prying eyes. 

Except for the beady pair that kept darting her direction in the rearview mirror.

“What?”

“Are you hungry, ma’am?  I could swing by a drive-through.”

Savanah didn’t like Ravi’s smirk or the tone of his voice.  And she especially didn’t like being called “ma’am.” 

“I’m not hungry.”  Savanah pulled the waistband of her pants above the roll of fat that had settled there.  “Just get me home.”

“Of course, ma’am.  Let me know if you change your mind.”

What made Savanah even angrier than Ravi’s condescension (delivered in his ever-annoying East Indian accent) was the fact that she WAS hungry.  At this time, she was usually enjoying Momma’s cheeseburgers and The Young and the Restless.

Nevertheless, she sat in stubborn silence…until it was betrayed by her tummy, which began an audible protest as they entered Atlanta.  Savanah folded her arms across it as if muffling an unruly child.  With every moan and groan, Savanah looked to the rearview mirror to see if Ravi’s eyes were shifted her direction.  Fortunately, he kept them on the road. 

Until he suddenly pulled off into a Burger King drive-through. 

The pop star lurched forward in her seat.  “What are you doing?”

Ravi rolled down his window as he pulled alongside the restaurant’s menu board, then he pivoted in his seat.  “What do you want?”    

She wanted to berate Ravi.  She wanted to fire him (even though she technically couldn’t as he wasn’t her employee).   

But in the end, she decided that, more than anything else, she wanted a cheeseburger.

Savanah collapsed back in her seat and a roll of fat once again spilled over her Spandex. “Whopper with cheese and a large fry.”