Therese Fowler - Souvenir

With his perspective in mind, she peeled off her T-shirt and looked at her breasts critically. ‘Average,’ she said, turning sideways, then facing front again. Not like she could do much to improve them, short of getting implants, and she was not an implant kind of girl. She knew girls who were, though – girls who’d already had nose jobs, girls who were all about improving their bodies so they could get better guys. Girls who knew how to flirt. Girls who wore those mini-stilettos called kitten heels, and big smiles for their daddies so they could get more money to shop with.

Savannah knew she wasn’t especially good at flirting, not with boys and not with her dad, but she was a straight-A student, good at figuring things out – which was much more valuable in the long run. Besides, Kyle obviously liked smart women, seeing as how he thought she was a college student with serious career aspirations and all.

She’d just changed into the yellow Earth Day tank top and gray knit shorts she slept in when she heard a tap on her bedroom door.

‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘Come in.’

The door opened. ‘Hey, sweetie, you ready for bed?’ her mom asked.

‘What does it look like?’ Savannah said, moving her laptop from her bed to her desk in a show of being finished with it. She knew that once her mom left the room, she could play guitar or make a phone call or open up the computer again without any fear of being interrupted. Her mom was nothing if not predictable; once she said good night, Savannah wouldn’t see her again until the next morning. Some kids might take much better advantage of this predictability than she ever had – sneaking out, for example, or sneaking someone in. She never did that kind of thing, never had a reason to, before.

Her mom sat on the side of the bed. ‘You’re such a wise guy. What does it look like? It looks like you’re ready to race sled-dogs in the Iditarod. But I think maybe a good night’s sleep is in order first.’

Savannah sat down near her pillows and pulled her knees up to her chest. ‘Funny,’ she said. ‘Not.’

‘Actually, you look like you might be about to audition for a strip-club job.’

‘ Mom ,’ Savannah said.

‘What? Those shorts are scandalous.’

‘You bought them.’

‘When you were twelve , if I remember right. What is it with teenage girls and short clothing?’

‘It’s just a style.’

‘Hmm. Well, don’t wear those in public. Dad would kill you.’

Savannah looked down at the shorts, which she was planning to wear in Miami. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said.

‘So … do you need anything?’ her mom asked, looking around her bedroom in that way Savannah knew parents did when searching for signs that their kids smoked or drank or whatever. This made her feel guilty before she’d even done anything wrong.

She took a bit of her hair and pulled it in front of her face, braiding it quickly. I need my car , she thought. She said, ‘Shampoo.’ And then, seeing an opening, she added, ‘Oh, and I have this question: Remember how, when we were in London last fall with Aunt Beth—’

‘Wasn’t that a great trip? This fall, the conference is going to be in Singapore. Do you think you’d like to go? Dad’s been there and he loved it – well, he loved the golf courses, anyway; the food wasn’t his thing. But—’

‘Mom,’ she interrupted, now unbraiding her hair.

‘Oh, sorry. What about it?’

‘I was thinking it might be cool to fly out to visit her this summer, like, just on my own. Can kids do that, fly alone, I mean?’

Her mom said, ‘Sure. Remember, there were three little boys in matching tie-dye shirts and airline badges on that flight to London?’

‘Oh, yeah. So then, you don’t have to be eighteen or whatever?’ She began braiding again, then caught herself and pushed the hair back behind her ear.

‘Nope. As I understand it, the airlines all have special services for unaccompanied children – they have flight attendants assigned to them, and a parent or relative has to meet them at their destination gate.’

‘So basically I’d be tracked like a convict.’

Her mom laughed. ‘No, you’re old enough to go on your own, the program’s for younger kids. Do you know, I heard on the radio not long ago that Atlanta has the busiest airport in the world? I always thought it would be New York – but they’re not even in the top ten! I think O’Hare was the second busiest, and then Heathrow …’

Savannah listened with half attention while thinking of how to buy a ticket to Miami. Her mom was always taking the long way through explanations, which used to delight her but now often felt unnecessary. Sometimes she wanted to say, Just get to it already . She never did though, maybe because a small part of her still liked seeing her mom as an all-knowing authority. Maybe because she knew that asking questions was a good way to get and hold her mom’s attention – not that she wanted so much of it anymore. She didn’t. She wanted her own life, a life where she fit, a life where no gung-ho dads looked down on low-money career aspirations. A life where she was important to the people around her. To Kyle, maybe. With her Grandma Anna gone now, most of the time she felt invisible. And that was on a good day.

Her mom was still talking. ‘Well, I know Aunt Beth would love to have you, no question. She could tour you around Berkeley, introduce you to some of the other professors – you really should apply there, you’d be a shoo-in. I’m so pleased that you want to spend time with her. What a nice idea!’

Savannah nodded. She probably would enjoy going, though she hadn’t thought about it one way or the other until this minute. And attending Berkeley for its environmental science program was a possibility, if she wanted to work for the manatees through politics and policy. Right now, though, all she cared about was whether she could hop a plane to Miami with nothing more than a ticket and ID. From the sound of it, she could.

‘I’ll talk to Beth,’ her mom said, ‘and if you think you might want to go to Singapore, I should get that arranged before too much longer.’

‘I’ll think about it.’ She was impatient now to be alone so she could get online and look into airline schedules. She gave a smile that was meant to encourage her mom to move alone. ‘So … good night,’ she said.

‘Oh. Okay then.’ Her mom stood, smiling back in a way that made Savannah fear she’d been too abrupt. Again. She never meant to be rude; things just came out that way.

She watched her mom walk to the door, then turn and look at her.

‘Honey?’

‘Yeah?’

‘This weekend, let’s have that chat about birth control I’m sure you’ve been dreading.’ Before Savannah could answer, she was gone down the hallway.

Savannah sat as if frozen, though her face was ablaze and her mind was spinning. Did her mom suspect something? An impulse to forget the whole Miami idea swelled inside her, but then she thought of Kyle, brought that image of him on the dock to mind, and the impulse subsided. It had to be the fact of her sixteenth birthday coming up that provoked her mom’s suggestion. Knowing her mom, the birth-control chat had been scheduled since the moment she heard ‘It’s a girl!’

Suppose during this chat she just up and told her mom that she wanted to go on the pill? Suppose she said she had a boyfriend and they were considering having sex. Right – that would go over well. Going from having had no real boyfriend ever, to the announcement of having not only a boyfriend but also a sexual relationship with the guy … it just wouldn’t work, even if she wanted to tell her about Kyle – which she didn’t. Couldn’t. He was definitely not who her parents would have in mind for her, not by, oh, six or seven years and, in her dad’s case, several shades of skin color.