Stacy's Dad Has Got It Going On (17 page)

“I was still little when my mom got
help, but to this day I feel ashamed of who she was back then. She was so out
of it. She’d stumble around, hold the pictures on the wall just to keep from
falling over. I know was just a kid, but I felt like it was my fault. It’s
probably not what you want to hear, but those feelings never go away. I’m still
mad that she wasn’t a good mom when I needed her the most. I’m angry about
everything she put my dad through, but I have to remind myself she lived
through war. She was little when she left Laos, but she remembers bombs. She
remembers people being blown up. It wasn’t my fault. She was dealing with a lot
of bad stuff inside her own mind. Still…”

Stacy hugged her around the waist and
said, “Aww, Sav, it’s not your fault.”

With a strained laugh, Savannah
fluffed Stacy’s hair. “Here I’m supposed to be comforting you, and you end up
making me feel better! How did that happen?”

As they sat together in conciliatory
quiet, Savannah tried hard not to think. She didn’t like opening a path by
which the past could creep in. Instead, she reflected on Stacy’s problem.
“Maybe in your dad’s line of work he’s seen a lot of bad stuff too, right?
Maybe it preys on him.”

With a slow shrug, Stacy reasoned,
“It’s possible. He used to do field work all over the world when I was growing
up. But I just don’t feel like that’s an excuse for making my mom feel like
shit.” Brushing away a flow of tears, Stacy sighed. “What the hell are we going
to do with my father?”

Savannah firmly decided against doing
anything more with him, but she didn’t tell Stacy that. “Send him home,” she
said, though the words sounded harsh. “If your mother will have him, let them
work it out.”

“Yeah.” Stacy stared at the wall
behind the bed. “She wants them to have couple’s therapy. That’s probably a
good idea. I still can’t believe it all, though. My parents! They’re like
characters in a movie—one of those independent Canadian films.”

Savannah laughed. Stacy obviously
didn’t know how right she was. “Your part would be played by Sarah Polley. That
girl’s in everything, and she’s got your skin tone…and hair colour. There you
go! You’ve got a box office draw already.”

“Yeah, for when I sell my life story.”
Stacy’s brow furled and a quizzical expression took over. She’d spotted
something, that was for sure. Oh god, had Savannah not put away her big black
dong? Last thing she wanted was for Stacy to find that damn thing. Too late! Stacy
crawled forward, reached under Savannah’s bed, and brought out… and brought
out…a book!

“Since when do you read romance
novels?” Stacy laughed. “Hey, you stole this from me! I remember the cover.
Have no idea what the story was about…”

With cool dismissal in her tone,
Savannah said, “They’re all identical anyway. One love story’s the same as the
next.”

Stacy rose to her feet and smacked
Savannah in the arm with the paperback. “Whatever! You were reading it,
chickie.”

“Me? No,” Savannah mock-scoffed. “Never.
Your dad must have left it in here.”

Throwing her head back, Stacy let out
a loud cackle. “Yeah right. And what would my dad be doing in your bed? Hmm?”

Savannah felt her expression fall,
though Stacy was still laughing. She gulped. She must look so guilty right now.
What could she do to look less so?
Smile
. She forced herself to laugh.
Stacy had no idea, and she’d never know.  Savannah would never tell her.

“Yeah,” Savannah chuckled. “Your dad
is
so
hot. I totally want his pasty white body.”

Stacy walked to the door, set one hand
on the knob, and then hesitated. She turned around, and Savannah was sure the
girl could see the truth. But she’d moved on, back to the problem sitting in
wet clothes on their living room couch. “What do I say to him?”

Savannah searched her heart, but came
up dry. She had her experience, but she was no expert. Shaking her head, she
said, “I really don’t know.”

Chapter Seventeen

She would have called Chris, but she
didn’t have his number. The apartment had gone silent, and she just wasn’t in
the mood to sit around studying. It’s not like she could concentrate anyway.
Eric
.
She kept thinking about Eric getting high. It seemed so unlikely—maybe that’s
what had drawn Savannah to him in the first place: he’d seemed above reproach.
Sure, he drank a lot those first few nights, but the binging seemed forgivable.
Hell, he’d just been cheated on by his wife! He deserved to blow off some
steam.

With an aching sigh, Savannah reached
down to open the front pouch of her backpack. Strange—it was already unzipped.
She must have been in such a rush to get out of the library with Chris that
she’d neglected that one. Whatever. Nothing was missing. When she pulled out
her planner, already open to today’s date, her eyes shot straight to the bright
green ink at the bottom of the page. In highlighter, it read,
To Do: Call
Chris
. His number was underneath.

Tossing her head back, she laughed
with every ounce of glee rushing through her veins. Her fingers had minds of
their own—they tapped against the mattress. When her toes did the same against
the floor, a shock ran up her leg. Damn! She kept forgetting about that stupid
ankle of hers. Why wouldn’t it just heal, for goodness’ sake?

As she searched her backpack for the
eternally-errant phone, the hinge on the balcony door screeched. Eric and Stacy
spoke in low voices as they came inside—she couldn’t hear what they were
saying. The rain had cleared and they sky was dressed in shades of dusk.
Savannah felt something plastic and buttony, and pulled it from her bag—a
phone! What luck.

She felt strangely nervous about
talking to Chris on the phone, despite having talked to him in person all
afternoon, but she didn’t want to text him—she wasn’t sure if this number was a
cell or home phone. Hell, she wasn’t even sure if he lived in residence, with
roommates, with family, or what!

There came a muffled tap on her
bedroom door and she nearly tossed the phone up in the air. “Sav?” Stacy asked,
“mind if I come in?”

Savannah shoved her planner and her
phone to the bottom of her bag. Her heart raced as she said, “Yeah, okay.”

Stacy looked like a wise mountain
woman with a knit blanket around her shoulders and an expression of
understanding on her face. “It’s getting chilly outside.” She smiled. Her
cheeks were rosy, but her eyes and her nose didn’t look red with tears. “I’m
going home with my dad.”

“You’re going to miss classes?”
Savannah asked, though she wasn’t sure why that was the first question that
popped into her mind. Seemed like the more relevant questions would be, “Did
you talk? What did he say? What have you all decided about your family’s
future?” But as those thoughts zipped like shooting stars across her mind, she
realized it was none of her business. That hurt. She’d slept with Eric. She’d slept
with him more than once. But had there ever been any sort of connection between
them? Had she loved him? No more than she loved Stacy. She’d wanted to cheer
him up, and at one point, to get back at Stacy and at Chris for a wrong she’d
only imagined. Still…Savannah felt a loss.

“I’m driving home with him tonight and
then I’ll take the five-thirteen bus back in the morning…if I can wake up that
early. We both feel it would be good to sit down as a family and talk about
everything. I think my parents want to stay together—at least, that’s the sense
I get from them.” Stacy pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. “So,
I’m just going to throw a pair of pyjamas in a bag, and then we’re leaving.”

Savannah nodded, but couldn’t bring
herself to say anything as Stacy traced a specter’s path to her bedroom. Eric
was packing too—she could hear him in the living room. She couldn’t not say
goodbye, right? She had to.

Easing herself off the bed, she
hobbled into the hallway. When Eric looked up, she froze. For a moment, she
felt so awkward she had to look away. Staring into the kitchen, she chuckled
with a belly full of nerves. “So, you’re going home?”

“Yeah,” he said. Savannah managed to
get a glimpse at his gauche smile as he folded clothes. “I’ll get out of your
hair. I’m sure you’ll be glad to have your couch back, right?”

“Right,” she replied, for Stacy’s
benefit. Their bedroom doors were thin, and the apartment was so damn quiet.
Even the fridge wasn’t buzzing. Maybe it was broken. She swept into the kitchen
to check, but as soon as she’d opened it up, the motor kicked in. “I guess it’s
okay,” she said to herself.

Eric perked up. “What’s okay?”

She’d meant the fridge, but was aware
he thought she was referring to his leaving. Her breath rattled in her chest. “You’re
leaving,” she repeated. As soon as the words had left her mouth, she was sure
he’d heard “your leaving” in response to his question, and her stomach sunk.
This goodbye was not going well. “I hope you can work things out with Helen,”
she said before he could misinterpret anything else.

“With Hilary?” he asked.

Savannah leaned her elbows on the
kitchen counter and let her head fall into her hands. “Yeah.”

Hilary
—like the mom from
Fresh Prince
.
Why was that so hard to remember? When she was little, she wished to hell any
of the three actors who played that vacant but ever-present character would be
her mother.
Hilary.
The name soured in her belly. Her ankle screamed
with pain as she pawed through the cupboards for a soda cracker. 

Savannah gave in. “I’m sorry, I just
don’t know what to say.”

Eric’s eyes teemed with alarm as his
gaze shot to Stacy’s bedroom door. He was right. She couldn’t break down now.
“I hope…” She was going to say, “I hope you get better,” but she recognized
that he didn’t feel as though anything was wrong with him. He wasn’t addicted.
He wasn’t affected. He didn’t
need
it. And maybe if he lived alone and
had no dependents, Savannah would agree. But that wasn’t the case, was it? He
was hurting his wife. And everything he’d done with Savannah? How would
Helen…no,
Hilary
…how would Hilary feel if she knew about that? It
wouldn’t matter that she’d cheated first. She’d still be hurt if she found out
her husband fucked a college girl—and their daughter’s roommate, to boot!

When Savannah looked up at Eric and
met his gaze straight on, she didn’t see the man she’d made love with on the
couch. Even
Lucy
paled, in her mind. Every memory of him was
grass-stained now. “Keep up the good work at IHAO. I bet a lot of people are
living better lives because of you.”

As she turned to leave the kitchen, he
ran to her and caught her from behind. She didn’t care enough to struggle. Even
if Stacy caught a glimpse of whatever he was about to do, what difference did
it make? At this point, Stacy would be more upset with her father than with
Savannah.

“What?” she hissed as Eric spun her
around and hugged her close.

His chest jumped against hers, and he
released a low sob, still clinging to her body. She’d never felt quite this
uncomfortable with Eric. As she pulled away, she saw the tears streaming from
his blue eyes. His white-blond hair looked thin and messy, and his expression
of pain pronounced the crow’s feet clawing across his face. When he whimpered,
“Thank you,” she felt sorry for him.

Savannah left Eric in the kitchen and
hobbled to the bathroom. When she’d closed the door, she turned on the water,
stripped naked, and released a torrent of tears. She leaned against the tile to
take pressure off her poor ankle, and scrubbed Eric from her body. The act was
empowering.

In one weekend, her life had shifted.
One affair, and she would never be the same. She didn’t feel like a bad
person—not exactly. If anything, she felt like she knew something now that
she’d never known before.

After Stacy called out her goodbyes
and left the apartment with her dad, Savannah dried her tears and her dripping
wet body. Wearing only a towel, she crept back into her room and reached inside
her backpack. She pulled out her planner and, after some fishing around in
there, her cell. Chris answered straight away, like he’d been waiting for her
call.

“Can I see you?” she asked.

Of course
. Of course she could. He’d been
hoping she would phone him up. He’d even convinced one of his roommates to lend
him
her
car so he could take Savannah somewhere special. Savannah smiled
when Chris talked about living in a house with a guy and a girl. His place was
probably neat and clean, with minimal decaying garbage and other assorted foul
odors. Plus, living with a girl surely added to his sensitivity in relating to
other people—though, Savannah realized, that was an odd assumption for her make
when all weekend she’d made a pig of her attempts to console both Stacy and
Eric. Or, maybe she’d done an okay job with Stacy today, but she’d totally
failed with her dad.

Anyway, why was she thinking about all
that when she was on the phone with Chris? The past belonged in the past, and
Chris was her future. “So, give me your address,” he said. “I’ll leave the
house now and I’ll be there soon as the car lets me. Wear something
comfortable.”