Let It Go (31 page)

“You too, Savannah Bondurant,” Jack calls after her, quite proud of himself for stepping up, letting go of the past and embracing a promising future. He breaks out into a whistle heading toward his trusty chariot, the souped-up red Challenger.

An hour later, a physically and emotionally drained Savannah pulls up to Vangie’s house. An unusual stomping ground for a sounding board, the youngest sister has made a lifetime habit of consulting Jac for advice. In this instance, Vangie seems like the most logical choice given her and Payton’s latest infidelity challenge.

Vangie meets her at the front door. “Are you sick? Is it a holiday or something?” she fires questions playfully. “You never come to see me on weekday mornings.” Holding the door open, she pecks Savannah on the cheek pulling her inside.

“You ever have one of those stranger than fiction mornings?” Savannah inquires, still processing the uphill spiral of events. “Where your day takes a turn for the worst, jackknifing off onto a rather pleasant detour?”

“Can’t say as I have,” Vangie mutters. “In my experience things get worse and take a looong while before they get better.”

The admission jarring Savannah’s empathy. “How are things, with you and Payton?”

“We’ll get to that. I want to hear about your detour. I could use a bit of good news. You hungry?” Vangie’s motherly instinct kicks in, noticing Savannah wears her running gear.

“Not really.” Her appetite indubitably ruined at sunrise witnessing a shirtless Brody atop Candida Wooten’s veranda. The conjured image causing her stomach to grow nauseous even now.

“Here.” Vangie hands her a glass full of orange pulpy liquid. “At least have some juice. So…” She waits impatiently.

“I just ran into Jack. At the fire station. On my run.” Savannah partakes of the juice, surprisingly refreshing to her squeamish gut.

“Ooh,” Vangie bites. “Your turn for the worst?”

“The pleasant detour,” Savannah reflects, her eyebrows elevating. “It was the first conversation we’ve had in about three years that didn’t end up in an argument. He genuinely apologized. It was quite peaceful. I think we’re good.”

“That has to be a huge relief. Unless you’ve had a change of heart?” Vangie pries, a bit of hope in her tone.

Savannah shakes her head, her eyes pressing at her meddling sister. “Just feels good to be amicable.”

“Well then, what happened before that?” Vangie reverts to the turn for the worst.

“Nothing, really,” Savannah plays it off, adverse to tarnishing Brody’s image. “Things aren’t always what they seem,” she tells the truth, simply avoiding the specifics. “Just work stuff,” she ultimately resorts to a lie.

“That boss of yours still giving you the runaround about your book proposal?”

“Yep,” Savannah dives on the accurate lead, knowing if Vangie were to hunt into the relationship department she would not be able to continue to fib to her sister. “I’m thinking about shopping it around to other publishers if she doesn’t give me a fair chance pretty soon.”

“I think you should be doing that already. You don’t owe her or the paper your allegiance.” Having served Luka and Zoey breakfast before school, Vangie busies herself cleaning up the kitchen. “Don’t be like me, Savannah. Don’t wait around for life to happen. You have to make it what you want it to be. Accept nothing less.”

“Have you decided? What you’re going to make of your life, considering recent events?” Savannah looks up from her orange juice glass.

“I’m getting there. Payton swears nothing happened with that woman, other than a few flirtatious emails and personal exchanges on the sidelines…at football games.” Vangie puts her dishrag down. “You think I can believe him?”

Savannah shrugs. “I’d like to think you can. But honestly, I don’t know,” her words heavy with the thought of Brody’s convincing discourse completely opposite of his sneaking around.

“I want to give him a chance. For our family. I still love him. The feelings are there. I’m just not sure I can ever trust him again.” Vangie sits down at the table with Savannah. “Part of me feels like a betrayal is a betrayal, end of story. Regardless of whether he carried through with the physical act of cheating, he thought about it. He was tempted, completely inappropriate, flirting with that woman.”

“Have you ever done that?” Savannah interrupts, genuinely interested in the answer. “Flirted with other men while you were married?”

“Innocently,” Vangie huffs. “You know, going out with the girls. A guy buys you a drink, tells you you’re pretty. That’s nice to hear. But I never exchanged numbers or emails. I never brought it into my marriage.”

“How did it happen with Payton?” Savannah presses, hopeful that Vangie can find healing in talking about it, by proxy offering a smidge of understanding for her current situation with the deceitful gym boy.

“An interview.” Vangie releases a pent-up breath. “She’s a sports reporter.” She continues with a roll of her eyes, “And of course she got the assignment to interview the head coach…Payton. He said it started off completely professional. But then her texts and emails grew in number and promiscuity.”

“Why did he respond to those? Did he say?” Savannah attempts to understand the allure.

“The same reason any man responds,” Vangie’s tone grows sarcastic. “Because it made him feel good. Wanted. Sexy. Whatever.”

“But you tell him those things, right? Stuff that strokes his ego.”

“Probably not as much as I should,” Vangie admits. “We’ve been together for fifteen years. Things get comfortable. I guess I just assume he knows I’m attracted to him.” Vangie’s eyes flood with moisture. “Do you know the man cried, Savannah…big ol’ crocodile tears…the other night when we were talking about all of this. He said he just wants me to want him. Every time I turn him away…sex…he said it feels like he’s failing me. Like he’s not giving me what I want, and that’s why I don’t want him, intimately.”

“I know you want him, Vangie. Why can’t he see that?” Savannah strokes her hand along her sister’s arm.

“Sex never used to be a problem for us. It was how we loved. How we solved arguments. Whatever the issues, it was nothing a roll in the sheets couldn’t quench.” Vangie’s tears roll down her cheeks accompanied with a smile at the sweet memories. “Just being with him. Skin to skin, in his arms.”

“The whole world seemed right,” Savannah speaks amorously, finishing Vangie’s thought, having experienced the same euphoria in Brody’s embrace.

Vangie nods her head. “How is it I’m too tired or too distracted to enjoy that these days? To make time for that?” She swipes at the apples of her cheeks, her tears now retreating and controlled as reasoning takes over emotion.

“Looking after two kids, a husband and a home might be a good explanation,” Savannah offers support.

“But without the foundation, none of that survives. Payton and I. We’re the foundation, Savannah. Surely I can sacrifice fifteen minutes of sleep to rekindle that foundation,” Vangie scolds.

“Well then, do that. Are you going to try that? You and Payton?” Savannah, always a cheerleader of their relationship, cannot help but aspire that the two will make it work.

“Yes. We are. I scheduled it in. Three nights a week,” she says very matter-of-factly, the efficient domestic goddess runs a tight ship with the help of her trusty daily planner. Vangie smiles coyly. “As soon as his STD test comes back.”

Savannah squirts orange juice out of her nose with a chuckle. “Do you know what they do to men in those exams?” She asks, her eyes wincing uncomfortably.

“Yes, baby sister, I do.” Vangie grins proudly. “A cotton swab right up the ol’ eye of the snake,” she throws around her slang for the penile meatus.

“Ouch!” Savannah grimaces.

“That’s the least he could do after what he’s put us through,” Vangie refuses to feel sorry for him. Moving to her cutting board atop the counter, she diligently slices an apple, a late morning snack for Zoey who’s due home in an hour, attending only half-days at preschool. “He wasn’t too keen on the idea. But I told him I’m not too keen on taking his word right now. If he did sleep with that woman, no telling what she might have if she treats all of her interviews as such.” Her knife cuts harshly against the pecan wood.

“You ever thought about becoming a negotiator?” Savannah giggles.

“Oh, that reminds me. Tell Brody thanks for the architecture hook-up. I called that lady he told me about, and I’m meeting with her this afternoon for some part-time work.”

“Yeah. He seems to know a lot of ladies,” Savannah scoffs, the sentiment releasing from her mouth before she can retract it.

“What? What does that mean?” Vangie eyes her suspiciously. “Is he running around on you? I swear, if I hear about one more deceptive man, I might have to take a page out of Lorena Bobbitt’s book.” She holds the large, serrated knife in her hand threateningly.

“No. We’re fine,” Savannah quickly dismisses, figuring Vangie has enough on her plate without the added stress of fretting over her and Brody’s quandary. “All this talk of electronic media and cheating. He has a lot of female clients. Guess it’s pricking my jealous bone.”

“You keep your eye on those wily little she-devil clients,” Vangie warns.

“If he wants them, he can have them,” Savannah scoffs. “I got no use for a man I can’t trust,” again, the words spiraling off her tongue before fully thinking them through. She appeases a defensive looking Vangie, “At least one I’m not married to. You know what I meant. Payton was trustworthy while you were dating or else you wouldn’t have married him. I’m just saying if I can’t trust Brody now, what makes me think I can trust him later. I don’t mean you can’t trust Payton now that he’s broken that faith,” she sputters. “I’m sure he’s trustworthy…Payton,” she adds, catching her contradictory breath.

“Would you like to borrow my sandal? So you can stick it in your mouth,” Vangie pokes playfully.

“Would you mind terribly?” Savannah smiles apologetically, opening her mouth.

Vangie meets the orifice with an apple slice. “Look here, little sister. I know you usually go to Jac for advice. But listen to me when I say, don’t let what Payton and I are going through derail you from what you have with Brody. Every couple is different. Each coming across their own speed bumps. And it’s up to those two people…nobody else…how they choose to handle it.” She hands Savannah another apple slice. “If I asked her, which I did not,” Vangie makes a point of clarifying, “Jac would tell me to leave Payton because that’s what she thinks I should do. What she’s convinced she would do if in my position. Never truly knowing exactly what she would do until faced with the same situation.”

“I know. It’s always easier to give advice from the outside looking in,” Savannah concedes between bites of her apple.

“Payton is a good man and a good father. I know those things to be true. That gives me faith that maybe our marriage can survive this.”

“You don’t have to defend your choices to me. Trust me, Vangie, I am in no position to judge.”

“But I want to…explain. I don’t want you to lose respect for me.” Vangie ponders her position as one of Savannah’s older sisters, a role model.

“If anything, I admire you more,” Savannah contests, “for having the courage to fight for your family.”

“Really?” Vangie grabs her hand, holding it tightly, the affirmation easing her own cumbersome second-guessing.

“Yes.” Savannah smiles at her, the same praising affection she has extended to Vangie throughout the years. “I think you and Payton are a great team. You two always gave me hope for happily ever after. And I think you’re going to come out of this stronger than ever.” Savannah’s pearly white beam grows even wider. “I remember watching you two take your first dance as man and wife, thinking how lucky I would be to take after you. You’re the best wife and mother. And one of the best big sisters I could have ever asked for.”

“Well, don’t I just feel all kinds of good.” Vangie welcomes the avowal, the first time in days she has felt empowered by her decision. “You think you could stop by next week, around this time?” Vangie jokes. “I feel kind of like Superwoman after listening to you. No wonder Jac always hogs up your advice time.” She chuckles, rising from the table with Savannah.

“I feel pretty darn good, too,” Savannah pipes, embracing her sister. “Thanks for the apple and the juice.”

“Puh!” Vangie exhausts. “That was nothing compared to your pep talk. You sure you’re okay?” Vangie inspects Savannah’s tired eyes, her hands smoothing out the ends of her kinky, dirty blonde ponytail.

“I feel inspired, Sis.” Savannah kisses her on the cheek, heading toward the door.

“Here. Take a snack with you.” Vangie bags up a sliced apple, a cheese stick and a boxed juice, unable to help herself from nurturing. “Where are you off to anyway?”

“Home to shower. Then on to
The Times.
Think I’ll take a page out of Evangeline Acadie Bondurant-Lavoie’s book and fight for what I want.” Savannah catches the brown paper bag Vangie lobs at her before skipping out the front door.

“I love you!” Vangie calls after her. The sentiment both cherishing and indebted.

“I love you to the moon!” Savannah replies, blowing her a kiss. “And break a leg at your job interview!”

Chapter Twenty-One

Arriving at the
Savannah Sun Times
just after lunch, Savannah makes a beeline for the front door, her gumption stimulated by her listening habits on the ride in. First, she tried a positive affirmation and guided meditation CD she bought through mail order for nineteen dollars and ninety-five cents. The sophisticated and melodically delivered discourse accompanied by life journey imagery counterproductive to her cause, finding herself nearly asleep at the wheel. Ultimately resorting to AC/DC’s
Back In Black
album, a free CD she
borrowed
from Jac as a teenager. The juvenile, arena rock music with titles such as
Have A Drink On Me
and
You Shook Me All Night Long
did the trick, fully amping her adrenal system.