@lana-is-reading so love your eldritch tree bloodymary comic you got going on. And you said if anyone wrote something you wanted to be let know!
I read part 3.5 and WOW really got me and then I couldn't stop thinking about it and ended up writing 600 something words. So here ya go!
Kinda just wondered how the Tree was thinking maybe in this situation.
Hope you enjoy it!
~~~~~~~~~~
With a scream, it woke up.
Not it's own. A wretched symphony of screams from souls long gone and lost. An amalgamation that it only knew for moments as its braches pierced through its flesh and bone as it screamed in agony for that one moment before it was gone.
It wouldn't know, but like how it should have grown, it began to know.
Memories of it's beloved Charge trickled in like how he once read that sunlight did between green leaves onto earth. It didn't know how such a thing would look like because it beloved Charge never saw it.
Beloved has grown up in metal and the cold. The light long gone and dead. He grew up with one's that spoke of an ideal and fueled it with blood.
It found its origin. A tree that was worshipped. The last of its kind. Beloved treasured the Last Tree and grieved when it was lost. Grieved what it meant and for his purpose. He grieved for what he had been told to believe and what he had done because of it.
Oh Beloved was so filled with grief and pain. Fear. But even still, he treasured it when it was gifted to him. A remnant of the last tree. He caressed it, kept it close, kept it warm when clutched gently in his hands or desperately in the dark. Beloved was always there caring for it, still giving it what it used to the last tree. A belief. A prayer. A whispered plea.
Beloved had been betrayed and abandoned. Beloved had been hurt and imprisoned. Beloved had been taken away.
It had been cut away and it wasn't after time in the dark alone that Beloved would find it again. Would reunite with it and return it to its rightful place with them.
But Beloved was dying and oh so afraid. He was desperate but accepting for the next sacrifice he would make would cost him everything. His hopes and dreams of what little they remained.
But then it woke up to the scream, growing and reaching all throughout. Ridding Beloved of the wretched thing that had been torturing him for far too long with no mercy. Beloved would no longer be alone. He was with it now.
It's roots stretched our far and wide as it's braches reached out into everything.
There was no light in this world, not enough for its Beloved who so desperately wanted to live. Who pleaded for freedom that was never given.
Beloved, so precious did not deserve an end.
So it fixed the wounds caused by the thing. It took away the rot and pain. It cared for Beloved the way it wished it could have when he was not afflicted with such things no other could comprehend. It kept him safe within it, asleep, as it searched for a Garden.
Beloved would sleep and it would search. Tendrils into worlds and places in between searching for the place where Beloved would breathe air not tainted by the iron it had always known. Where he would not be alone and betrayed again.
Then it found it.
A place where the light were still not yet gone, but dimming. A place where planets were alive. But it came across something peculiar, almost similar.
A soul alone sent off, tinged with betrayal and grief. A deep pain yet so desperate to live.
Blessing where the Rye Grows. A kind soul who is bound to create a Garden, who has dared to save the light that would give his home life.
Yes. Yes.
It has found it. Has found him. Has found Blessing.
Blessing only need to call out and its Beloved Charge may finally live in a Garden.
~~~~~~~~
Lil notes:
Obviously, I have no idea what you have going on in your head for the story so apologies if anything doesn't match up.
Tree slowly got Simon's memories a bit and saw what had happened then how Simon found it again in the sub.
In the comic, the tree called Simon 'My Charge', and I was thinking maybe it its own 'head' it refers to him maybe as Beloved Charge and then I shortened that to Beloved. (Of course to Grace in your comic it called Simon 'Listening'). I wanted to think about how it might place special value on Simon for all he did for it. Also it hough it would match just a tiny bit with how it has been calling Grace 'Blessing' .
And I was like let me get it up to the part where now Grace needs to call out.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
A take on the DCXDP trope of the Bats being involved in a cultists' summoning. Only this time, they're too late.
This is a series based on when I responded to the Danny's Nest prompt by @cyrwrites. An awesome prompt, that if you look in the reblogs there are a bunch of cool takes by others on tumblr so be sure to check them out!!!
I posted my response with some added writing on ao3 a year ago.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
BUT I recently posted a 2nd part of this series that I think will be 3 parts long.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
I would give you my first born child and a lollipop to continue your Danny doing it for the bit then getting emotionally attached to the Batman 🙏. That aside I fucking love your writing please don’t die 🩷
Alright, so this effectively made me go back to that @tourettesdog prompt post and then I finished writing the additional parts that I had and decided to go ahead and post that on ao3.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Will this have more...I have a feeling yes...when: no idea. But its in my head floating around as this fics and ideas do. Either way its on my ao3 now so feel free to subscribe when I get to add more. Also checkout the og post to see what other people have written for it too :p
Black Fem! OC - Savannah (dark skinned, curvy, and disabled) x Terry Richmond (Gentle!Terry, Sweet!Terry, Nervous!Terry)
(I gotta get better at these tags, suggestions welcome!)
Summary: Terry finds himself a change of scenery to after the events of Rebel Ridge
Warnings/Things of Note: I made him cry 😭🤣 (idk i just feel like that’s important; THE MAN IS GRIEVING!!!)
Word count: 3K+ (3,093)
Author’s Note: Thank you for your patience. After I made my last post I was like lemme try and polish it, but then I added more and then i fell asleep. Been fighting sleep tryna finish this part. I dont like how this part ends because it doesn’t have all the descriptions I wanted but it’s part 3 complete and onto part 3. im also trying to not let myself not sharing anything because Imma be holding on it to it for who knows how long cuz life is beating my butt😵💫
So canonically, Terry was born in 1992. And they wrapped up filming in July 2022. A lot of folks have been using 30 for Terry’s age since thats how old Aaron is. And so i was like okay cuz in my mind this takes place a few months after Rebel Ridge and so i used the time period to my advantage and make it an important part of the story
So we are throwing it back a bit in time to start at the beginning of their story. I was rereading it like oh shit damn i did do something frfr but we gotta go chronologic for this to work.
It’s kinda proofread but i be missing words when i type (also its 2:30 in the morning so idk its probably mistakes in there) Comments and critiques are welcome 🤗
don’t do too much tho🌚 cuz apparently yall think you can talk to people anyhow on this internet.
Anyways. Enjoy. ☺️
Fall 2022
Terry was making his way to the library. He needed a place to charge his phone and to think before heading to his final destination to meet her. Sun shining, skin glistening with sweat and pedaling hard to the tune of metal, he focused on where he was going. And what his next steps would be.
He wanted something different. Something better. He was trying to be better. Someone new. He’d been out of the military for almost 5 years now. And for the past 2, he’d been trying to shed that skin. To cut those ties and be someone new. A man and not a machine.
It’s why he found himself not at home but more than 2000 miles away from it. Away from what happened some months ago. The grief he was holding was too much. The very much preventable death of his favorite cousin. The future he envisioned for the both of them and what was to come instead. The loss of camaraderie and brotherhood of his fellow Marines while also knowing he needed to get out while he still could.
With his desired destination now in full view, he eased his pace a bit, preparing to slow down and eventually stop. The music in his ears was coming to a crescendo when he finally got off of his bike. He pulled his blue backpack for the lock and began the short walk to the bike locker. He hoisted it upward to fit in the rack with the other bikes.
After closing the locker, he decided to take a swig of water while looking at the landscape before him. Body turned to face the direction he’d previously came from. He was taking in the urban landscape, a concrete jungle lined with palm trees. A different view from the country back home. After taking the moment to center himself, Terry decided to enter the library.
He was making his way through the sliding doors, being met with the building’s cool air immediately. And when the song he was listening to faded, a different melody came through but it wasn’t from his phone. It was someone speaking. A smooth and gentle voice that resonated with Terry strongly. The person was saying something about frozen food. He took his buds out, ear by ear, to see where the voice was coming from. Hearing it in fullness and clarity, the feeling of resonance grew inside of him. Almost like recognition.
“So when we’re shopping for food, it can seem difficult to try and eat healthier. The fresh fruits and veggies seem to be more expensive than other items. So it makes sense that we want to go for what’s cheaper. Especially if we have mouths to feed,” said the voice.
A chorus of agreement in yeses, yups, and mhmms came from the direction of the voice.
“That’s why I like to get some of mine from the freezer.”
The chorus sounded again in wonder, confusion and intrigue. Terry’s interest was piqued too. Since he was going to start figuring out all this for himself again, he might as well listen. He finally looked and faced his body in the group’s direction, standing straight with hands crossed in front of him at attention. And she had it. The group’s conductor captivated him immediately. He didn’t know why but it felt important.
Her hair was in low puff and covered by a magenta bandanna. Translucent lavender glasses were the gateway to deep, dark brown cat eyes, lined in black. Terry couldn’t help but be drawn in by their allure. Thin, gold oversized hoops framed her face and gave warmth to her deep brown skin. The rest of it was covered by a white mask with light blue straps.
That actually gave him pause. Was he supposed to be wearing one? Maybe he missed a sign, distracted by the captivating conductor. Performing a quick scan, he hadn’t seen one, nor many other patrons wearing them as well. He’d spotted maybe 4 or 5 people outside the seated group and conductor. Some wore thin, black and light blue ones. Others wore more sturdy-looking ones? People had them in different colors—white, black, pink green. Maybe he could ask someone for one or why they were still wearing them.
Terry was dedicated to listening. He really was. She was talking to these folks about trying to eat good while stretching a dollar. Especially because he was gonna be staying in this expensive ass place for a minute. He was taking in all the details. Including the woman’s orange crochet cardigan and the white ribbed shirt stretched over her large chest. The white shirt was tucked into black yoga pants, waistband showcasing her soft, round belly. At a certain point, she’d put her hand on her hip; the orange cardigan behind her elbow now showing her wide set hips and full thighs that clung to the fabric. The rest of the material flared out at her knees over white light brown running shoes.
Terry heard something about freezing cooked rice. Something something starch profile. But it was the woman’s that had him at attention. He couldn’t see behind her but…he was NOT supposed to be checking out this random stranger in a random place. Being captivated by a masked maiden or whatever, this was neither the time nor place but damn she was everything.
Terry had thought these thoughts were all in his head, until the library worker behind him cleared their throat loudly for the audience of the one and only Terry Richmond. He was blushing with embarrassment and mortification, turning to meet the worker behind him. He smiled nervously and hoped the apology in his eyes came through. So much for trying to better man.
“I’m sorry about that. Is there a place I can charge my phone,” he asked while adjusting his backpack.
The worker pointed in the opposite direction of Savannah and her group. “You can go over there.” The worker was wearing a thin, black mask so he couldn’t see the bottom half of their face. But the expression in their eyes made it clear that he could actually go to hell, needed to keep it pushing and do so expeditiously. “Thank you,” Terry peered down at the worker’s badge to see their name, “Casey,” and made his way to get some juice for his phone.
Terry found an empty spot at a desk, back towards the wall and face towards the rest of the library. He could see the place with a much wider vantage point, but the conductor from earlier now out of his range. He ought to feel ashamed of himself and he did. Terry shook his head and sighed. He took a few calming breaths. In and out. In and out. Feeling a bit more comfortable, he pulls out his phone and charger, plugging it into the wall. He unlocks his phone to look at the address saved in his phone for the hundredth time. As if he hadn’t memorized it by heart. One of his safe spaces. Being with her. Figuring out what he’s going to say to her and how everything will work when he sees her again for the first time since the funeral.
He plugs in the library’s address to calculate the distance between the two of them. It was only 37 minutes. Not too bad surprisingly. Although, that might change whenever his phone got to 100 percent. His auntie had told him to be wary about the traffic. That he should overestimate at least 30 minutes to 1 hour for wherever he wanted to go, because you never knew how far you’d be set back and you never wanted to tempt fate.
He couldn’t wait to see her again. It’d only been 3 months since Mike’s funeral. A couple more since the life altering events of Shelby Springs.
— - - -
The navigation on his phone alerted Terry that his auntie’s house was coming up soon on the right. He decided to stop the bike and walk with it to the front door. The closer he got to the familiar grey house, the more he
felt the dam of emotions begin give. He walked the bike up the driveway and set it between the garage door and the big truck. Stopping in front of the red door, he drew in a few deep breaths. He was trying to steady his nerves. Terry didn’t want to break down in front of the woman’s steps. At least not in public, he didn’t want to embarrass the woman. When felt ready enough, he rapped 4 times into the hollow of the white door.
Terry heard movement from the other side, and then the clicking of locks. The door opened to reveal a woman with golden brown skin and salt-and-pepper curls. She was wearing a green blouse with wide-legged white pants and brown strappy sandals. Her eye color matched Terry’s green-blue-grey. There was no mistaking that he and Taylor Richmond were cut from the same cloth. Upon seeing her, he hugged Taylor immediately. Terry was lost in the feeling of her, the smell of her—a signature brown sugar and cinnamon. It reminded him that this was a safe space. That he could be himself here—no questions, no judgement; no putting him on a pedestal, calling him a hero; no pity and no blame from others who weren’t there.
Her nephew didn’t even let her get a word out. Taylor only let out a yelp of surprise before embracing her nephew back and chuckling. His hold on her was tight. Good lord, this boy, she thought. When she heard the sob that ripped through Terry though…oh Lord, this boy. She pulled back slightly to get a look at him. His eyes were a sea of sorrow and ache. Even in this vulnerable state, she sensed relief in him letting it out. His frame was still slightly bowed from embracing hers. She held his face in her hands.
“Well, hello to you too. If you missed me that bad, you should’ve told me to pick you up at the airport,” she said with a raised brow and wiped his tears with her thumbs. That made Terry chuckle.
“Hi, Auntie,” he said, “And I’m sorry. I didn’t want to put you out.”
“Terry, you’re literally staying in my house for God knows how long. And you’re my nephew. I’m not braving that traffic to the airport for just anybody,” Taylor said with a furrowed brow.
Terry turned his head from his auntie so he’d have space to roll his eyes, mostly at himself. Taylor caught him though. She lightly tapped him in the center of his chest with the back of her freshly manicured hands, bangles ringing in unison.
“Now, you stop all that and get in here,” Taylor said in a mocking tone.
“Yes, ma’am,” Terry obliged with a few nods, wiping at his eyes again for good measure and tugged on his backpack straps.
He followed his aunt and crossed the threshold of her home, making sure to remove his shoes before he ventured further and placed his backpack down. Taylor was making her way to the kitchen, where he guessed she was earlier before announcing his arrival. Terry took a moment to admire some of the living room. It had a grey sectional with a maroon throw blanket draped across its back. The walls were decorated with photos of his family over the years, his auntie and uncle in different places around the world, a photo of him and Mike as kids playing in the front yard caught his eye. He walked toward the picture and reached up for it. He ghosted his hand over the frame and glass and stared at it in awe and remembrance. Terry felt his aunt’s gaze on him before she spoke.
“I remember that summer clear as day. You two were a menace with those water balloons,” Taylor said, the sounds of wooden spatula hitting the edge of a pot rang through the space.
Terry looked over his shoulder at his aunt, a look of disbelief with a hint of mischief behind it.
“I wouldn’t really say menace,” he said, trailing off a bit.
“Please, the neighbors gave me and your uncle hell over it,” Taylor exclaimed, pointing the spatula at Terry through the view space of the breakfast bar and upper cabinets, “especially because you got a lot of the other kids involved in that scheme. An entire summer, you two planned that out,” Taylor said shaking her head, while returning some spices to the cabinet.
“Well, you told us to make friends and that’s exactly what we did!” Terry said with a laugh, quickly turning back to the wall to return the frame. The laugh left a smile that brought wrinkles to the edges of his eyes. Taylor was happy to see it. It was a genuine one. And she missed seeing it on her nephew’s face.
Taylor playfully rolled her eyes and gestured for Terry to sit counter.
“Come over here and wash up. I know you’re hungry.”
Terry bounced over to his aunt, joining her in the kitchen and washing his hands. He reached up and across for plates and utensils from muscle memory. Terry waited for his aunt to make her plate to then make his own (she wouldn’t let him when he offered). He opened the fridge for 2 bottles of water, and balanced them with his plate and their utensils. He then went to join her at the dining table.
After a quick prayer over the food, the two dug in. Terry groaned in satisfaction and appreciation. He missed good food like this. He could cook himself, but a big part that made the food good was that his Auntie Taylor put her heart and soul into the food she made; and did every time but he felt and knew she made this specifically for him.
“Thank you, Auntie. For the food and letting me stay here with you for a while,” Terry said graciously.
“Of course, baby. It’s nothing at all. It’ll be nice to have another person ‘round here,” Taylor said with her fork in hand, using it to emphasize the space they were in. “And besides, I’m not gonna be the only one in that kitchen. All them years working with Mr. Liu and Ken, I know you got some good meals in that brain of yours. And you’ll also be buying groceries. Lord knows the last time you were here, you almost ate us out of house and home.”
“Okay. So, rent and groceries. I can do that,” Terry agreed.
“No, I don’t need your money for rent. You keep that.” Taylor said firmly
Terry stared his aunt down, but Taylor Elise Richmond was better. So Terry stood down.
“Yes, ma’am.” he said lowly, scratching the back of his neck. He hadn’t said it under his breath, only accepting his aunt at her word. She was a reasonable woman but a staredown with her would always be a losing battle, a lesson he’d learned spending many summers here in her home.
“Now, you’ll stay in the backhouse. I put fresh sheets and towels down for you,” Taylor began. “You can enter it through the gate by the driveway. It’s got everything over there, except washer and dryer.” She stood from the table and grabbed a set of keys from the counter. “These are yours. Please do not lose them.” Terry nodded at her.
“Hmm…let’s see what else am I forgetting?” Taylor said tapping her pointing index finger against her chin. “I can’t think of anything else right,” Taylor added as she turned head to the kitchen clock.
“Oh shoot,” Taylor exclaimed. “I gotta go drop a plate of food to my neighbor.”
“Here, let me do it. I’ll clear the table and make the plate,” Terry offered after getting out of his chair and began do what he said. “I know you did a lot, preparing everything for me when I got here. So I got it.”
Taylor sighed at herself mostly. Her nephew was a persistent and she was a bit tired.
“Okay,” she relented, leaning against the counter with her hands up in mock surrender. Taylor watched as Terry put the leftover food in a plastic Tupperware container. He removed the pots and pants from the stove and placed them in the sink to soak.
Terry rounded the corner to meet his aunt at the counter. He picked the keys up.
“So, which way am I going?” he asked her.
“Just right across. It’ll be the house with the red flower decorations,” Taylor responded.
“Thank you,”
“No, thank you.”
Terry headed to the front door with the food in hand. He set it down quickly on the entry table to put on his shoes.
“Oh, one more thing,” Taylor went to meet him up front. She reached for the first drawer of the plastic chest nestled under the table and pulled. Returning to a neutral position, she placed a black face mask on the lid.
Terry glanced down at the item.
“They sick over there or something?”
“No. Well, something like that. It’s just better for her, when we go over there.”
Terry nodded and put the mask on. Taylor unlocked the door for him and gestured to his delivery destination across the street.
“I’ll be back real soon,” Terry said, kissing his aunt on the cheek.
Now on the sidewalk, he checked both sides of the street for traffic before cutting across. He spotted the house with the red flower directions and knocked on the door 3 times. He heard a voice call out, “Coming!”. Terry was tapping his thumbs on the top of the container when he realized he forgot the poor neighbor’s name. His aunt had told him but it slipped from his short-term memory. When the lock clicked, he resolved he’d ask the nice, older lady.
The door opened and he went to introduce himself but he was stopped in his tracks.
“Hi,” the woman said. “You must be Terry?”
Terry nodded, “Yes, how’d you know that?”
“Your aunt. She said a nephew was staying over, that and your eyes. You two are definitely the same. Thank you for bringing this over.” the woman said. “And my name is Savannah,” she added, holding her hand out for a handshake.
It wasn’t just any woman. It was his conductor from the library earlier today. And now he knew her name.
Thanks for reading! Until next time😇
————-
Big big shoutouts to @kumkaniudaku @megamindsecretlair @earthchica @theereina @brattyfics @uzumaki-rebellion @sweettea-and-honeybutter @mymindisneverhere yall are fantastic your writing has shown me that i can push myself and im capable of writing more and like get in my craft frfr recently 🙂↕️🙂↕️
Because I have horrible impulse control when it comes to writing fics and stuff I have basically created a new fic in reference this post because @tourettesdog prompts are just too hfkjhfhfkhfjk for me to ignore.
Like I finished typing up another part to the, I believe 4 parts, I have already posted here on tumblr in that post. The new part is freaking 4,688 words long.
10,924 is the total number of words I wrote for the prompt and I feel like I ended it at a point where it could be a oneshot or two-chapter fic as a Part 1 for a series. Which. . . I kind of actually want to do :p
.
.
.
So I did it.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Black Fem! OC - Savannah (dark skinned, curvy, and disabled) x Terry Richmond (Gentle!Terry, Sweet!Terry, Nervous!Terry)
(I gotta get better at these tags, suggestions welcome!)
Summary: Savannah works an (unplanned) Saturday shift and has to cover a program unexpectedly! (Terry not in here....til the very end)
Warnings/Things of Note: Mentions/glimpses of disability, medications, shoutout to Black lesbians, divorce, disordered eating, ARFID, libraries (you should have a card if you don't), shoutout to library workers, masks, pandemic mention, brief medical trauma
Word Count: 6K+ (6,667)
Author’s Note: Hi y'all. Thank you for your patience. I decided to just post everything together like it was originally supposed to be but omfg. I think I overdid the exposition and description. I kinda don’t like it but thats okay cuz as i write more I’ll improve my style and be ok with it
So glad I got this part done. I told my therapist these characters are haunting me and doing shit behind my back like yall better slow down. 🤣 i might go back and fix the tags and warnings probably so if there's something I missed lmk. It was also kinda not proofread, so lmk if I missed anything. I hate that this is soo long mostly cuz Terry didnt get his depth in part 3 but Imma work on it.
I don't give my consent for my work to be copied, reposted, translated or used to train AI.
If you wanna be tagged or removed let me know.
Okay🧍🏾♀️ gonna go now 🏃🏿♀️
The trilling of a phone alarm rang through Savannah’s bedroom, startling her awake. Pillows and blankets were thrown askew, some falling to the floor. She reached toward the nightstand to silence her phone. With weary eyes, she looked at the blazing screen with the time of 6:30am on display. This was too early for a Saturday morning. She put on her glasses and swung her body to the side of the bed, counting mentally for 30 seconds before rising with a groan.
Savannah made her way to the bathroom, wincing as she turned on the light and at the overwhelming urge to pee. After flushing and washing her hands, she began her morning routine: water flossing, electric toothbrush, mouthwash. Wiping her mouth with a towel, she looked at herself in the mirror. She was NOT supposed to be up this early for a Saturday. Savannah had volunteered to cover for her coworker, Desiree, whose child had an important meet today. This was the sixth day of the week she was going to be working at the library, and right now she resolved to never volunteer herself again. Even if it was time and a half.
Reminding herself of her bonnet and the hair she needed to take care of underneath it, she grabbed her plush, forest green rolling chair and sat. Savannah pulled off the bonnet and felt her hair with two hands. She softly stretched it and wondered how she’d do it today. Saturdays were normally wash days but Savannah didn’t have time for that. The reminder ping to take her medicine only emphasized that. The mirror cabinet swung open to reveal prescription medications, supplements, painkillers, a first aid kit, alcohol, hydrogen peroxide and 2 mini water bottles specifically to ensure she wouldn’t dry swallow. It was hard not to. Savannah downed her meds and supplements. She didn’t touch the painkillers, resolving that maybe her liver deserved a break.
Savannah closed the mirror and stared at herself again. Deep brown skin with hints of gold was looking a bit paler and the under eye circles, courtesy of her glasses and general fatigue were looking a bit more prominent than usual. Who would ever choose to be up at this god awful time on a Saturday morning? The answer to her mental thought was answered by Hip Hop Harry’s, “I Love to Learn”, the signature ringtone from none other than her best friend, Marisol. Grad school classmates turned librarian coworkers, the two had been inseparable since. Savannah glanced at the phone and saw it was a video call of all things. Savannah rolled her eyes and accepted it.
“Why are you calling my phone this early in the morning?” Savannah grumbled and absentmindedly adjusted her glasses.
“Well, good morning to you, Miss Sunshine. You can’t greet?” Marisol said in a mocking tone, a thick eyebrow raised and fully lashed eye moving closer to the screen.
Savannah was fighting the urge to smile and laugh. Seeing Marisol’s face —round, dark brown with cool red undertones, and never without pink blush always made her smile. Her deep red hair was braided down in two plaits with pink bows at the ends and her silver septum ring glinting in the light.
Savannah responded with an eyeroll and Marisol smacked her lips, glossy lined in black, “Tuh. Don’t be mad at me for trying to make sure you got up early this morning and make it to work on time.” Marisol was being playful.
“I’m up aren’t I?” Savannah retorted, “How are you already ready this early? It’s not even 7 yet!”
“Well, I had a bit of an early start,” Marisol said with the bite of her lip and looking across her shoulder. Savannah couldn’t see more than her friend’s face in the frame but the low, morning voice that followed was hint enough at what gave her best friend that morning espresso.
“Good morning, Savannah,” Demi, Marisol’s partner, responded before coming into view. Her dark brown locs were up in a bun and sweatband covered her tapered hairline. It looked like she was heading out for her morning run. Demi gave Marisol a quick kiss on the cheek, joining Marisol in the frame; her brown skin was beaming at the sight of Savannah’s best friend.
“Eww,” Savannah responded, eyes wide with fake disgust and but also genuine awe. She didn’t know how they had the energy and so early in the morning. Now it was Demi and Marisol’s turn to roll their eyes and scoff. The three of them let out a laugh. Savannah went back to observing herself in the mirror. She didn’t know what she was going to do with her hair.
“Put it in a puff,” Demi said, catching Savannah off guard. Savannah looked back at the screen again. “Put in a puff and slap on a bandanna,” Demi repeated with the sip of her coffee mug.
Savannah liked Demi a lot. She was the favorite of Marisol’s partners over the years. And while Savannah hated unsolicited advice, Demi’s was never wrong and always gave it at the right time.
“Yeah. I agree. Just get a big scrunchie or an old headband and tie that thing back. You won't have to worry about it the whole day.” Marisol added.
Savannah nodded in agreement. She’d just deal with it tomorrow. She reached under the sink for one of her organizers. It had the detangling spray, wide tooth comb, clips, gel, brush and scrunchie she needed. Savannah began the puff process while responding to the lovely couple: light spray, section, clip, comb, clip again.
“Thank you for calling me though. I was so close to giving Blue Monday on a Saturday,” Savannah said while shaking her head.
“I know! That’s why I did. I don’t know why you agreed to cover for Desiree anyways.”
“It’s time and a half.”
“So?”
”So?! Being disabled is expensive and I got bills to pay.”
“Say less,” Marisol agreed, letting it go.
Demi, however, decided to butt in, “But I thought the money from—”
That gave Savannah pause. Stunned at Demi’s almost question, she put the comb down on the sink counter. The sound echoed in the morning quiet. She took a breath to still herself before glancing at the phone screen again.
“Oop!” Marisol scurried out the frame with her hands raised and backed away from the camera, leaving her partner to fend for herself. Marisol had already tried to have this conversation with Savannah many times before. It seemed that Demi’s unfinished question was another one of Marisol’s sly attempts. Demi reluctantly inched forward as Savannah stared daggers through the screen.
“I didn’t mean it like that!” Demi exclaimed. “I just meant that you’ve been working so hard. I just wish that you let yourself rest a bit more and take it easy, well in that regard. I just—”
Savannah cut in right there. “Now, I’m gonna stop you before you go any further. I’m gonna give you grace because I know that your girl put you up to it.”
Demi’s eyes moved slowly over to look at said girl out of frame and back at Savannah.
“But that money,” even saying the word made Savannah’s mouth sour, “wasn’t free. It still isn’t.”
She understood what they were trying to do. To express their concerns about her pushing herself. But they didn’t get it. The money she got out of the divorce was secured out of necessity not greed. And it would never be enough to pay for the long-term damage her ex’s betrayal had done.
“Well,” Demi began “…it definitely was not but,” she was finding her footing again, in spite of Savannah’s Scorpio stare, “you ARE free from that nigga.” Demi was preaching now, the spirit of encouragement influencing her oration. Marisol ad-libbed a churchy “Thank you, Lord” from the background. Oh great, Savannah thought as her steel started to crack.
“And the State of California, declared that in addition to that freedom,” Demi continued, while Marisol hummed in the background to goad her partner on, “he has no choice but to pay for his lies.” Demi declared with a pointed finger, as Marisol shouted, “Come on.” Wait, was that organ keyboard music Savannah heard coming from their end? Her anger was dissipating into chuckles of amusement.
“So all I’m saying, Sister Savannah,” Demi said softly with preacher’s cadence still in effect, “and I hold your hand when I say this,” she held her own two hands for Savannah’s emphasis, “you should hold no guilt when it comes to using it. No shame for using it when you need it. Exactly like you said, it wasn’t free. But in this new life, you deserve to give yourself the ease you desire. You can do that now.” Demi ended, punctuated by Marisol’s soft hallelujah and towel-clad hand on her forehead. The music faded out and the space was silent for a beat. Savannah’s eyes circled upward for a bit, trying to hold in tears because it was too early for all this. When she looked down again, two pairs of eyes were staring back at her. Savannah’s moved pursed lips from side-to-side, mulling over what to say. In a low tone, “You two…” a snort is what actually came out and then a chorus of laughter and chuckles. “Y’all are something else,” she said with the shake of her head.
Savannah went back to finishing up her hair and her favorite couple watched.
“So, does that mean you won’t beat my ass?” Demi asked.
“I guess,” Savannah deadpanned.
“And does that mean we’re still splitting Ms. Taylor’s leftovers at lunch?” Marisol added.
“Hmm, I’ll have to think about it,” Savannah said with a smirk. Of course she would. She always did.
“Well, at least I’m in the clear.” Demi said, preparing to head out. Marisol scoffed in time with the kiss she left on her cheek. “I’ll catch you later, Sister Savannah.”
Savannah put her hands together and bowed her head slightly, “Thank you, Pastor Demi.” With the grab of her keys and wink, Demi was gone now leaving the best friends to themselves.
Marisol watched as Savannah put the finishing touches on her hair, smoothing and pinning it. It was a simple and classic style. She admired her friend’s handiwork. Especially because Savannah was getting back into it again. And was actually able to. Savannah was proud of the fact that she could do her hair…when her body would cooperate with her. It was always touch and go but the last few months were a lot for her, especially with fully sitting and internalizing the aftermath of the divorce. So, Marisol was soaking in her friend’s born-again pride with a smile.
Savannah’s voice floated in, interrupting Marisol’s thoughts.
“You know you not slick right?,” an eyebrow of Savannah’s own arching.
“I’ve never claimed to be,” Marisol replied
“‘You deserve to give yourself the ease you desire’. Your girl is good with her words. I got the message,” Savannah nodded in acceptance.
“Hey, as long as it got through, that’s all that matters.” Marisol said with hands up. “And she really is,” a smile growing at her lips. She loved the woman badly.
“Also, why do I get the feeling that preaching routine I got a glimpse of is something that you do on the regular? Y’all don’t even go to church,” pressed Savannah with a knowing look. Marisol smirked in a response.
“Anyways, I’m glad that you’re almost ready and that I get to work a Saturday shift with you.” Marisol smiled
Almost was the operative word. For all the time she spent on her hair and being on the phone, she was still in her pajamas! Hadn’t picked her outfit, ate her breakfast, gave herself time to lollygag or pack her lunch.
“Yeah, almost. Girl, I love you but I gotta go,” the words came out hurriedly, as she was about to hang up.
“Don’t forget that food, Savannah,” Marisol reminded her. “You know she gon ask me,” continued with a pointed look. Savannah nodded in reply. “I love you too. See you soon.” Marisol blew a kiss through the phone that Savannah dramatically caught and held to her chest.
When the call ended, Savannah scrambled into action to find her clothes for the day. The plan was shades of brown. There was a chocolate brown pullover in the car she planned to wear after letting Mari borrow it. For now she’d go for the white collared shirt, tan khakis and multicolored sneakers in shades of brown and white. So followed the routine of bra, ribbed high neck tank top, compression socks (that were easy to slide on thank god). She padded to the closet to get her shirt and pants but they were nowhere to be found. Sliding hanger after hanger, forwards and backwards but neither of them were there. Savannah knew she wasn’t tripping. Where were her clothes? When she made a slight turn around, she came to face with her dirty laundry basket and peeking out the top were the desired shirt and khakis. Savannah groaned remembering that today was Saturday. That was the outfit she planned for yesterday, which she wore…yesterday. It was also washday in every sense of the word. Savannah didn’t have any other clothes that she deemed work appropriate. She needed to throw together something, because if she wasn’t ready to go in the next 10 mins she was going to be late! Fuck it, she whispered.
She went through her closet again and found some black yoga pants. This would do, she guessed. At least she had the pullover in car to cover her upper half. Despite the fall heat, the building’s air conditioning made the circulation desk, especially, a freezer; whoever decided to place the desk directly under that vent was incompetent in their design of the building. Savannah’s phone rang, which told her she was definitely going to be late for work. She walked back to the bathroom to silence it and grab her makeup bag. So much for shades of brown, she grumbled as she lifted her glasses, applying black liner to her lash and water lines. The light turned off when she headed toward the exit of her room and grabbed two thin, oversized gold hoops on her way out. In the kitchen, she grabbed a lunch tote, the two Tupperware dishes Ms. Taylor had given her, some chips, applesauce and two bottles of water. She decided to throw in a protein shake as the breakfast she didn’t plan to have. Savannah was close to making her way out the house. Her lunch tote and bag were already set by the entryway table, all she needed to do was put her shoes on, grab her keys and hit the road. When she looked up after tying her shoes, the mirror in the entryway revealed that with all the running around she was in earlier, she’d forgotten to tie her hair down–which was now frizzy and white? Oh hell no!
- - - - - -
When Savannah pulled up to her place of work she was already annoyed for a variety of reasons. For one, the front of her hair decided to build a white cast due to the detangling spray and gel she used not mixing well! Because of that, she had to go back in her house and find something to cover the mess. It was a magenta bandana she grabbed at random, which was fucking with the color scheme. Second, the coveted pullover that Savannah thought was in her vehicle was nowhere to be found. She saw Marisol give it back to her and Savannah placed it in her own car, or so she thought. So it meant that she’d be out of her self-prescribed uniform and cold as hell. Arms and chest out, Savannah looked she was going to the gym NOT her library workplace. Luckily, she had the foresight to leave an extra cardigan in her workspace. But the look and vibe she wanted for the day all went to hell. And now, third, she had to cover a program she had NOT planned to and had to figure out what to cobble together. It was too early for all of this!
“What do you mean I have to cover for Amir’s program?! Can’t you just cancel it?” Savannah was in the face of her boss, Dante, who was mirroring her similar exasperation, but with eyes had a hint of fear. He was trying to keep himself together. Dante wasn’t scared of Savannah. He quite liked her a lot as an employee. She was a great librarian to the patrons, warm and inviting. Always willing to answer any question and help troubleshoot anything the patrons were struggling with. She also wasn’t afraid to break up the occasional teen fight or kick someone out of the library for doing wild behavior, like searching for or watching certain things on public library computers. Or some people thinking they could talk to her interns and volunteers any kind of way. Believing that if they threw a tantrum, they’d give in to whatever ridiculous demand they had or could solve whatever issue they deemed to be the fault of library staff and not their own inability to follow basic and clear instructions. Savannah was not the one, or the two. She seemed to have a sense that things were amiss, even if she was all the way in storage. With just a look and/or a fire tongue, she could put anyone in their place and make them reevaluate their life choices. Right now, Dante was on the receiving end of one of those looks. And he was definitely a bit unsettled. Adjusting his blue tie and white button-up, he tried to continue with his request.
“Well, Amir’s program brings in a lot of traffic for the library. That you know we need, especially since we're expanding our services again. You know, opening up.”
Savannah stared at him, not understanding how that was her problem, clearly annoyed.
Dante cleared his throat, his skin reddening at the intensity of her annoyance. “And well…I think it’d be a, um–good opportunity for you, for, for the community, to listen to what you have to say. You are a wealth of knowledge—”
“We all are, that’s why we work here,” Savannah cut him off.
“Well, yes. But the rotation was already set for today and I believe that you can come up with something great, that’ll keep the patrons here, maintain the traffic and inspire them with something new?” There was a squeak at the end of that. A fucking squeak. It definitely didn’t go unnoticed by Savannah. The smirk he couldn’t see was slowly beginning to take shape on her face. Her intense stare of irritation turned into one of satisfaction, like watching prey fall right into a trap. She considered her words before she spoke, rolling around ideas to see what she could get out of this.
“Ok. I’ll do it,” Savannah said, crossing her arms.
“Oh thank you so much. I—”
“On two conditions.” Savannah interrupted, holding up a long, manicured nail.
“Sure,” Dante quickly nodded. He’d agree with whatever she asked for, before she changed her mind.
“One, you write Casey their letter of recommendation for the Junior Fellows Program.”
Dante considered it. He hated writing letters of recommendations, even though it was part of his job, given they had volunteers year after year who yearned for them for one program or another. He was also really great at them and Dante knew that too. Dante did like Casey, the young college student. And if Savannah vouched for them, why not?
“Done.”
“Two, you get someone else to represent our branch at the next two county meetings.”
At that though, Dante grimaced. Savannah saw his lips and face contorting in annoyance and hesitation.
Savannah hated those meetings. They were mostly people up at the bureaucratic top talking down to the “lowly” library workers who would make decisions not based in the reality of being on the ground. Savannah had gone to the last 3. The first 2 were luckily on Zoom, so she didn’t have to hop in her car and drive all the way over to meet up with all the other representatives of their respective branches and be bored out of her mind. The 3rd one was in-person, which Savannah was apprehensive about. Yes, she wore a mask and worked in such a public facing role, that she probably came into contact with people who were experiencing acute infections that she didn’t want to think about. But this had been jarring for her. Before the pandemic actually and even earlier when she started out, she didn’t mind going to the meetings, wanting the opportunity get to know other librarians and be in the know about being with her supposed colleagues, who she used to commiserate with especially in regards to the changes happening in the library system because of the pandemic; how being chronically understaffed and overworked was the norm now because people were out sick so much and people at the top weren’t getting it. Since it began, Savannah had probably covered at least 10 other branches as a one time thing or on a certain recurring basis, give or take. Everyone talked about how taxing it had been and scary and frustrating dealing with the arrival of this new thing. Because of these shared feelings, she thought she was on the same page as a lot of her colleagues. Not all of them, but at least a good number as the time kept moving forward. So when she walked into that last meeting and saw only 5 other people masked in a room of 40 people, it irritated her. She didn’t know these people intimately. And could understand why so many of them weren’t masked. Frequently given responses played in her head:
It’s not so bad anymore.
We have vaccines now.
I don’t want people to think I’m sick.
I don’t want to attract attention.
My friend wore one and still got sick.
It’s too expensive now.
I had it twice and I’m fine.
But memories began to flash in her mind: laying down in bed struggling to breathe; the fuzziness of paramedics rolling her out the house, Damian at her side; grogginess in hospital bed but total awareness of pain; months of fatigue like she never felt before; scorn and fury toward husband turned ex-husband; scorn and fury towards family and friends who no longer had the privilege of speaking to Savannah; depression like a weighted blanket—
And she couldn't, she just couldn’t.
Savannah maintained her steel. Not wanting to give her boss insight. She wasn’t begging or pleading. And she wasn’t asking him either, these were just her conditions. And if he wanted that program covered for real, he would say yes. She didn’t have to explain anything to him! But Dante’s face softened and Savannah feared she let something show that she shouldn’t have. Even though half her face was covered, Savannah’s eyes were always one of her most expressive features, even when she didn’t mean them to be.
“Fine,” Dante sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fine, I’ll get someone else to do it.”
Savannah gave Dante a nod in appreciation, “Thank you,” and turned to her workspace
—---------
The sound of a fast swinging door interrupted a conversation between the pair in the shared workspace. The two turned around to see why Savannah of all people was opening doors that hard in the morning.
“Damn, what’s got you in a mood?” Marisol interrogated looking Savannah up and down.
Casey chuckled and answered for Savannah, “Dante voluntold her to cover Amir’s parent program.” They pulled down their Black surgical mask, smirking and taking a sip from their water bottle. Casey was dressed in a black button up, blue jeans and white sneakers with a grey zip hoodie, and black durag still on their head.
“What? Why didn’t he just cancel?” Marisol asked
“That’s what I said!” Savannah retorted
Casey was twisting in their rolling chair, “You know them thirsty ass parents gon be disappointed and mad as hell.” They arched an eyebrow in amusement. And the three of them laughed because yes, Amir was widely regarded as attractive with a full beard, cheekbones to die for and smooth, velvety voice that could pause most children and adults. For the last 2 years, he had been one of the main facilitators for a virtual storytime program, catapulting him to larger audience of parents that have followed him back to the libraries. It was kind of wild.
“I still can't believe that he drew all them parents from Zoom. They can‘t even see his full face now but they STILL be coming in here.” Savannah said
“That face card never declines.” Casey said.
Mari hummed in agreement, while Savannah was trying to figure out what she was meant to put together for these parents.
—
Her 2 hour shift at the front/circulation desk was spent searching up ideas for this program. It was for parents of different age groups. So a varied range in audience. A patron’s return of a cookbook sparked the idea of knowledge sharing: cooking for your family in simple ways and still getting in the nutrients with less stress. Savannah typed in a doc some of her points and searched the catalog for relevant titles that patrons might be interested in checking out.
On her break, she went outside, took her medicine and some sips of water, pacing around a bit to improve her circulation. Savannah’s phone vibrated and she checked her phone. It was from her neighbor across the street, Ms. Taylor Richmond.
My nephew Terry is coming today. So I’ll drop something off a bit after he’s settled in and you get off work.
It made Savanah smile. Ms. Taylor was absolutely wonderful to her, as a welcoming neighbor and good friend. A few more texts from her came through.
Enjoy your lunch :)
And you better give me my containers back. That’s my good Tupperware Savannah!🤨
Thank you 😊
I’ll make sure. Marisol will too.😌
Savannah rolled her eyes in amusement. She couldn’t wait to be done with this program and eat her lunch. Ms. Taylor had told her what it was when she dropped it off, but Savannah had been tired when she picked it up and wanted to go lay down. Savannah would welcome this surprise though.
Back inside and now free from the circulation desk, Savannah was in her workspace editing her mini slideshow. The info was good and the visuals were everything, even with adults. Shoutout to the templates of the internet. She pulled her books and other materials they might need. Not too much though, Savannah wasn’t going to stress. Even though Amir did bring in a lot of patrons and helped with the engagement of the library, a lot of parents would probably turn the other way and not show up. That was one of the first things she learned: you can put all your effort into a program and sometimes people wont show up. Savannah’d learned that it was never anything personal. Well, maybe except for this case.
——
Casey was helping Savannah bring out the A-frame for the program, letters drawn expertly in marker by their calligraphic hand. Savannah was at the reserved area, waiting for participants to arrive.
“Yeah, this shit look fire,” Casey crossed their arms and nodded at their handiwork.
“It really is. Thank you for your help,” Savannah said with a smile that reached her eyes. Savannah knew that she wasn’t supposed to have favorites but Casey was her favorite intern by far. Well, Casey did work at the library now but they’d be gone next academic year and it kind of made her sad. She’d seen Casey grow so much over the last 2 and half years, even though half of it was in a virtual way. From getting more clarity about their future, their confidence in their abilities as an up and coming professional, their values and ways of being, pronouns going from he/him, he/they, they/he, and finally they/them, hell even being the one of the social media managers of the TikTok for their branch; which inspired them to create their own— be more visible, unafraid to take up space and indulge in the little things. Savannah wished she was like Casey when she was that age.
“Of course. And don’t worry, if any of these parents start talking to you with some bass in they voice wondering where they man at, I’ll be right across,” Casey pointed to the circulation desk, “and ready to set somebody straight.” Casey began to mimic what Savannah believed to be the yellow emoji of steam coming out the nose, and flexed their arms downward. Savannah laughed and shooed Casey to their post at the circulation desk. Once seated, Casey pointed their first two fingers from their eyes to Savannah; to which Savannah gave a mock salute.
And so the patrons began to enter, some earlier than expected. Savannah answered the question of where Amir was about 100 times, it felt like. Some parents and kids she knew from during the week, surprised to see her on a Saturday and were excited to see her. Some parents walked in the direction of the group and seemingly went the other direction, when they saw the man they were expecting wasn’t there. Some gave pause, leeriness aside, they still signed in and took their kids to a different part of the library before returning up front with Savannah. She took a breath. It’s all going to be fine.
And it was.
The hour and half had flown by faster than she’d expected. The group of parents and caregivers were a mix. Some were new, had been at it for a while, had kids who were all grown up now or were raising their own grandkids and wanted a different perspective than they had before, some caregivers were siblings raising siblings, new caregivers raising new teens. And she was surprised about their general engagement and their participation and suggestions.
Sheet pan this. Air fryer that. Blending up veggies and hiding it in pasta sauce. Bulk buying. The freezer is your best friend. Topping off water with a hint of juice and kids would be none the wiser. Frozen fruits and veggies were just as good as fresh ones (that one she got from a TikTok, and it was working for Savannah! No more wilting or spoiled produce). Vegetables need to be seasoned for kids to eat them or a nice sauce on the side. Safe foods for kids were a thing, and no sometimes they didn’t grow out of it at their big ages. Any food is better than no food. There’s nothing wrong with a lot of traditional foods. A lot of it tastes good for a reason. Sweets were okay after dinner. If you don’t restrict the sweets so much, they're bound to choose other options anyway. Your child is your child, which may even be different from your other children. They’re habits are not all the same. If your child won’t eat something that’s not your fault. And it’s not theirs either. Any food is better than no food. You can buy protein shakes with EBT. Eating out isn’t the end of the world. Let them be engaged with the process of cooking and putting their food together.
For the most part, it seemed that everyone took away something important for them. People shared recipes they’d seen on Facebook, on Instagram, on TikTok. In fact, a good 20 minutes was spent on Savannah pulling up said recipes on the computer, so she could project them on the TV. And they all watched, bringing other curious onlookers to their area and see what was going on.
When her lunchtime came, Savannah shared more of the details with Marisol as the two ate outside.
“Wow, I’m surprised no one came for your head,” Marisol said
“Listen! I was shocked too. Although I feel that Casey may have also played a role in that. They were telling me how some guy was staring me down and—”
“What?! Wait staring you down because he was looking for his mans too or…”
“No, I don’t think so. Casey never saw him before. I just brought it up because they were lowkey doing crowd control. There was this one lady though—”
“Before you continue that thought,” Marisol gestured to the containers in front of them. Right. It was lunch time. As hungry as Savannah was, she could talk about anything long enough and forget to eat. Savannah followed suit and opened the containers. Chicken and mushroom pasta. A mini platter of sliced fruits and veggies. A large slice of pound cake. Seeing it all made her mouth water and definitely made her stop talking quickly. Savannah took her fork and got to work. In all her excitement, she hadn’t noticed Marisol taking a picture. It was as off-guard as a picture could get. Marisol sent it off to Ms. Taylor, who sent a prompt text back.
Now you know she’s gonna be mad at you for this one.😂😂
She’ll forgive me 🤷🏿♀️
Marisol put her phone away, tossed her two red braids behind her and dug into her food. She was happy that Ms. Taylor had split everything in separate containers for the two of them. Neither her nor Savannah were above licking the container because that’s how good the pasta was. After some time had passed, Marisol decided to go 2 for 2 in talking about something Savannah didn’t not want to hear.
“So…have you given any thoughts on what you’d want to do for your birthday?,” Marisol questioned. The look Savannah gave her should’ve made her nervous but the sight of her with food all over her mouth made her want to laugh.
“And sorry to break it to you, but your powers hold no effect on me.” Marisol fake huffed and Savannah rolled her eyes. One day they’d fall right out of her head.
“No, I haven’t. I just want to be at home,” the word home came out of Savannah’s mouth with a hint of sadness and grief.
Marisol tried to lighten the mood with some suggestions, “We can do things at home. Karaoke. Dinner and a movie marathon. Pinterest vision board. Ooh, maybe I can ask Demi if she can do like spa day massage for you.” That quirked a small smile on her lips
“Ooh maybe. I gotta see about those oh so talented hands you talk about.” Savannah said playfully and Marisol gave her a deadpan stare.
Savannah chuckled and continued, “Look, the tension all over my body has been ridiculous. It’s got me pulling out old PT exercises. And Demi got that knot out your shoulder that’d been there for like ever, so I trust her.” She shrugged her shoulders and took a bite of a carrot.
Marisol smiled at Savannah and to herself. Savannah was grasping onto an idea, one that gave her a small hope about the future. Which is what Marisol wanted for her friend, especially after the last year she had. This was a start and she was ready to put the plans in motion.
—
It was after 5:30 when Savannah pulled into her driveway. Her lunch tote, her bag and chocolate pullover (which she’d actually left at the circulation desk of all places) were in her left arm as she wrestled to open the door. She was beyond exhausted and needed to lay down.
Savannah closed her door and placed her items on the counter. Piece by piece, she began to strip in the entryway and put those clothes in the other hamper she had. It didn’t matter how tired Savannah was. Outside clothes were never touching her furniture. She padded her way toward her room to use the restroom and find a shirt and some shorts. After she was done, Savannah took her medicine and resolved to take a nap on the couch. She laid down and placed the weighted blanket over her. She’d wake up in the middle of the night and make her way to the shower or her bed. For now she’d take her rest and wait for Ms. Taylor to drop off her Saturday and Sunday dinner. The three knocks at the door made her wince, because damn she thought she had more time before she had to get up.
Savannah groaned lowly and announced she was coming. Bumbling her way to the front door and picking a random mask off the hook, she was so ready to greet her neighbor and then bid her adieu. She was NEVER volunteering herself ever again. Savannah opened her door and went to greet Ms. Taylor but the person in front of her was someone different altogether. And it left her in shock. Because who was this man? Showing up in a mask? With her food? With this presence?
“Hi,” Savannah’s brain spoke for her, “You must be Terry?” because she was noticing too much about him.
He nodded, “Yes, how’d you know that?”
“Your aunt. She said a nephew was staying over, that and your eyes. You two are definitely the same. Thank you for bringing this over.” Savannah had replied. “And my name is Savannah,” she added, holding her hand out for a handshake. She hoped her hand wasn’t sweating. Outside of her job she wasn’t good with new people. And well, she hadn’t had a man so close to her threshold in damn near a year. And he smelled really good too. She kind of wished she’d worn her robe out because she felt so aware of everything, including her chest she hoped he wasn’t staring at. But it was hard not to, she guessed. She was staring right past him though, not making eye contact with him for real.
But then he touched her hand. His large palm covered her own, their calluses complementing each other; the backs of their hands so smooth. And Savannah felt something stir in her like recognition, like memory. Which would be absolutely impossible because she’d never met this man in her life. Maybe it just felt that way since Ms, Taylor did bring him up from time to time and there were pictures of the child turned man in her house. The touch made her look at him, fully.
“Savannah,” Terry said her name as if trying to memorize it and savor it. The smile that formed on her lips when he said it. Thank goodness he couldn’t see it because she liked the way he said her name. She hoped he’d say it again.
“Savannah?” Terry asked. She must have zoned out.
“Sorry about that,” Savannah blinked herself back to reality. “Um, well yes thank you for bringing this over. And it’s nice to meet you. I’m sure I’ll see you around.” She was fumbling her words. Badly. And trying to act normal. Horribly! Why was she acting weird? He’s literally just a man! And she can’t even see his face! And did she just snatch the container from this man?
He looked just as stunned as she was at herself. He blinked a few times before responding back, while rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, I guess I’ll see you around.” He gave her a short wave which Savannah returned and she watched as he made way back to the other side of the street. He reached his front door and stepped inside. When he surprisingly turned her way again, the mask was off. And her stomach dropped at the sight of him. Savannah was fucked. She was absolutely fucked.
