The Savannah Situation Pt. 01

Forewarning: This is long and there's no sex in it. Some erotic happenings, but no sex. It's just the first part, after all. But I hope you'll read it anyway if you like long stories with slow builds, and if you do I hope you like it.

*****

The guy in front of me was taking forever. I'd somehow gotten stuck behind this putz in the security line, and he somehow made it all the way up to the x-ray machine without taking his shoes off, so somehow we all had to stand there while he unlaced his dumb oxfords, slipped them off his feet, and put them on the bars at the luggage x-ray conveyor belt and push them through, and then he finally stepped through the human x-rayer and the line finally started moving again.

And now here he was, leisurely packing up his carry-on in the middle of the aisle, having not stepped into his row despite the flight crew's explicit instructions to do so, while my daughter waited for me.

But I didn't say anything, didn't think it was worth the trouble or whatever further delay it would cause, and when he finally finished and we all moved forward and we got to the jetway, I squeezed by him so I wouldn't be stuck as he lumbered toward the gate at SeaTac.

My brilliant daughter was graduating from premed at UW, and then I was going to take her home before she started medical school in the fall. I counted my blessings every day that the small town she was raised in - I tried to help raise her and I didn't do a very good job, if I'm honest - was near a top tier medical research university she'd applied and gotten in to. It was endowed by a massive genetic research facility that had set up shop 50 miles away from us about 30 years ago, and the university sat comfortably between the facility and our little town of Crooked River.

Look, I was 14 when I had her. I wanted to give her everything, but I was a dumb kid who had unprotected sex - and I had no excuse, we had the internet already - and I wasn't ready for Savannah. Her mom Jenny's parents weren't too excited about it, either. I had parental rights. They never tried to keep me from her. But they didn't say much when the amount of time between my visits grew and grew. I would go to their house, sit on their couch, and hold this baby on my lap and I was 14 with no idea what to do. I didn't even know how to change a diaper, and Jenny or one of her parents was always right there to take Savannah if she needed a diaper change. I get why they weren't crazy about me, even though I loved Jenny as thorough as any 14 year old boy could ever claim to. I was poor, lived in a trailer with my poor dad, and had gotten their daughter pregnant at 14. It was easy to dislike me, I guess. But it was both of us that got caught up in each other one day and conceived Savannah and that changed it all.

Savannah waited on the other side of the terminal's secure exit and she looked beautiful. And different. When I last saw her at Christmas, she looked like Savannah: baggy UW hooded sweatshirt, jeans, her light brown hair always pulled into careless, convenient bun. Except she was pretty sad last Christmas, and didn't tell me much aside from a relationship didn't work out and she'd thought this one was going to be different, but they were all the same.

Now she stood in a white, knee-length linen skirt I didn't recognize, a black and white striped sleeveless button-up shirt knotted at her waist and make-up that made her look more poised than any 22-year-old I'd ever seen. Her hair was down, straight but full and curling up at the ends, and she looked like a breezy summer day. She had this black eyeliner and mascara that made her honey brown eyes bright and when she saw me, she smiled and bit her lip as I made my way to her.

"Hi, honey," I said, and I moved in to hug her.

"Hi." Her arms went around my neck and she squeezed me tight, pressing her cheek to my beard. "I missed you so much."

"I missed you, too. I'm so glad I get to be here for this. I'm so proud of you," I said. More than anything, I was grateful that, despite my spotty presence in her life, she still loved me, still seemed to want me around.

"I'm glad you're here, too," she said, and released me. "Let's go check you into your AirBNB and then go do something."

"You gonna show me the big city? I'm not used to all this, you know." My socioeconomic status and all the money I would send her had kept me from visiting her while she was in school, except when I took her there when she first started, packing my shitty truck full of her clothes and anything I had that I thought might make it feel more like home there. We drove several hours together to her dorm. I think I came closer to crying than she did when I left her there.

I wasn't about to miss her graduation, but I could only afford to stay for three days: arrive on the first day, attend graduation proceedings on day two, and finish packing her up and shipping her stuff back to Crooked River and leaving together day three.

Savannah took my arm and leaned her head against my shoulder for a moment. "I'll show you the big city. But I'm looking forward to going home with you."

I was sitting on the couch in our apartment in Crooked River, watching muted news while Savannah tried to convince me to go out to a bar with her and some old junior high friend she hadn't seen in years while she prettied herself up in the bathroom. We'd been home a week, in my shitty apartment. It was extra shitty because when I found out Savannah was going to go to med school here and live with me while she did, I had to find a two-bedroom place. Crooked River's small enough that there aren't a lot of options anyway, but the options there were weren't great, and now we had to climb a narrow flight of stairs to this shitty, drafty two-bedroom apartment on top of a halal butcher. I don't know much about halal or how a halal butcher ended up in Crooked River, but damned if they don't know how to do meat right. I came in so much they started throwing in stuff for free, letting me take home samples of their marinated or spice-rubbed meats and Jesus, were they good.

Anyway, Savannah didn't seem to mind that the apartment was cold and the counters were laminate and the wood floors were in serious need of a sanding and refinishing even if it wouldn't fix the warping. Or that I barely had anything in there; the stuff I had in my studio apartment didn't take up much space in a two-bedroom. But she'd only been home a week; there was all the time in the world to get dissatisfied with it.

"Honey, I'm your father. Why on earth would you want me hanging out with you and your girlfriend at a bar?"

"Oh, come on. You're 36. I hang out with guys your age all the time. You're not old and you need to get out and do stuff. Come hang out with us. Besides, Erynne's always thought you were hot."

"She has not. I haven't seen her since she was 13." Since right before Savannah left for boarding school.

"Yeah, and she thought you were hot when she was 13. All my friends did," Savannah said from the bathroom. "You were the hot dad."

"You kidding me?"

"No." She poked her head out around the door frame and looked at me. "Come here."

I figured she needed me to zip her dress or something, but she pulled me into the bathroom beside her, in front of the mirror. She was done getting ready, and she looked stunning in a black sequined dress. It had a pretty short, tight skirt, but was modest up top with these big, drapey long sleeves and her hair was unnaturally straight, hanging like a silk curtain over her shoulders. "Honey, you look gorgeous, but I have to tell you I think that's a little dressier than what you're gonna find out here."

"I'm living my best life. This is for me," she said, with a shrug. She slipped behind me, reached around to straighten my t-shirt. "Look at you. You're a good-looking guy and you're young. Come out with us."

She wasn't wrong, and I knew it, too. Being good-looking was about the only thing I ever had going for me, and working heavy highway construction kept me in shape. More than in shape; the rigors of the job had required I gain some muscle or just fold, so I gained some muscle. So I was a 36 year old guy, almost six feet tall, kinda muscular, with a full head of dark blonde hair and an admirable beard to match. Women seemed to like my eyes in particular, said they were kind and one girlfriend told me the way I looked at her made her melt. I did like her a lot, and I guess it showed.

"I don't know. I think I'd feel weird. I mean, we're not friends, Savannah," I said, and it sounded mean when I hadn't meant it like that at all. Her brow creased in the mirror and I felt like shit. "I just mean it's not the same as when you hang out with guys my age. None of those guys are your father."

"But I want you there," she said, softly, and I met her eyes in the mirror. She was peeking around my shoulder, and her eyes looked huge and inquisitive behind this eye make-up that looked like smoke. "Please come?"

I studied her face in the mirror for a beat, then shrugged. "Okay. If you want me there, I'll come."

"Yea!" She gave my mid-section a squeeze and then eased out from behind me. "Let's go!"

I did a lot of dumb things when I was young. I took up smoking, for a reason that to this day I couldn't articulate. When Savannah was 10 she started asking to see me more, and when I picked her up one time and she wrinkled her nose and said, "Do you smoke?", she put such emphasis and contempt and disappointment into the word I could, in that instance, truthfully say no, and I never touched another cigarette after that.

Nevertheless, it was always a relief to walk into a bar forced into smokeless freedom by law a few years ago, and Shanty off the main drag wasn't so bad when it wasn't full of smoke. We did have to walk through a cloud of it to get inside because people ignored the sign about not smoking within 50 feet of the entrance and the smoke was just hanging in the heat of the June night.

"Erynne!" Savannah called, waving. Erynne slid off her stool at the bar as we approached and any trace of the 13-year-old girl I'd last seen was gone. She'd grown, a lot - almost as tall as me, narrow all around with glowing, tawny skin, thick black hair, and eyes so dark you could forget where you were in a second. She was in this slinky gold halter dress and she was stunning. She readily embraced Savannah, and they held each other tight for a long moment. "You remember my dad, Chris?"

"Of course I remember you," she said, with a smile that was somehow sly and shy at the same time. "It's good to see you again, after all this time."

I nodded, returned her smile. "You too, Erynne. Where'd you get to, all this time?"

"I just graduated from Tisch. Got a degree in drama. I'm only in town for a couple weeks before I start up with a theater company in San Francisco."

"San Francisco. Wow. Congratulations, that's really great."

"You should come out for one of my shows," she said. "I mean, both of you."

"I'd love that," Savannah said. "I'm gonna get us all some drinks. You want a Buckley dark?"

I looked at her, surprised. "How do you know what beer I drink?"

She smiled and lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. "I pay attention."

We brought Erynne home with us; she drank a little too much. Too much to drive, so we left her car there and walked down the street to my apartment. I could've taken her to her house, but it was twenty minutes outside of town and I wasn't totally confident in my driving ability either, and if there was one thing to say for our shitty apartment it was that as far as Crooked River went, it had a walkscore of 100.

Erynne insisted on taking the couch, was adamant about it to the point that after I made it up, she climbed in like she was staking a claim and shut her eyes. I shrugged and turned to Savannah. "Guess that's that."

"I guess so," she said, and I joined her in the kitchen. She handed me a cold glass of water. "Did you have a good time?"

"I always have a good time with you, honey," I said.

She rolled her eyes. "I know you like being with me. But did you have fun? Drinking at a bar with me and my friend?"

"I did," I said. "How'd I do? Did I stick out like a sore thumb?"

"No. I bet people thought you were my boyfriend," Savannah said, and took a long drink of water.

It made me laugh. "No one thought a pretty young thing like you was slumming it with me, I promise you that."

"Don't say that. I'm not slumming it with you. No one is slumming it with you."

She was serious enough about it that it kind of surprised me. "I meant it as a compliment to you, honey."

"I know. But I know you and any woman would be lucky to be with you." She set her glass down and lifted her arms to circle my neck and hug me close. "I'm going to bed. Goodnight. Thanks for a lovely evening."

"Goodnight," I said, resting my cheek on the top of her head. Her hair was silky and smelled good, a warm mix of amber and spices I couldn't place. "I love you."

At the time, I thought she must've been tipsier than either of us realized, because she sank against me for a long moment, then said, "I love you, too," and went to her room.

I'll just say it: Erynne came onto me that night. It's not like this happens regularly, I'm not used to having 22 year old girls come onto me or anything. So on the one hand, I was shocked. On the other, it was hard to miss how she looked at me and talked to me all night at the bar.

I woke up when she crawled onto the bed. I didn't know I was that light a sleeper, but I guess I was that night. I opened my eyes and the dim light through the blinds from the streetlamp outside lit her up enough that I saw it was Erynne, still in her gold dress.

"Hi," she whispered.

I was still half-asleep. It hadn't occurred to me that it was weird she was in my room or that this could be a seduction. I just thought she needed something. "Everything okay? You all right?"

"I'm fine," she said, and then just stopped, kneeling on my bed with her hands on her dress over her thighs and staring at me. She looked far less certain than she had at the bar.

"All right," I said, and stared at her as my mind cleared. And then I started to recognize what was happening. "You need something?"

I feel like even if she'd said, 'Yeah - your cock!' and taken her dress off like a fantasy, I still wouldn't have gone for it. But she looked like a deer caught in the headlights, and that clinched it - I wasn't going to touch her. She just bit her lip and slowly shook her head and whispered, "Sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry about," I said, and sat up. "That couch isn't the greatest for sleeping. Why don't you stay in here, and I'll take the couch? Really, Erynne. Please. I don't want you awake and miserable all night because I have a terrible couch."

After a moment, she nodded, and I reached into my closet and pulled a t-shirt off a hanger and held it out. "Here. Feel free to wear this if that dress isn't comfortable for sleeping. I'm sure Savannah has something you can borrow in the morning if you want."

Erynne nodded again and took the shirt, not meeting my eyes. "Thank you. Sorry I woke you up."

"Don't worry about it, sweetheart. Just get some sleep," I said. I paused at the door. "You look stunning in that dress, by the way."

"Not like a trophy? I was worried I looked like an Oscar."

"Not like a trophy. Like a goddess. Goodnight."

I was awake and making breakfast when Savannah rolled out of bed. It was easy to be up, because that couch really is a piece of shit and not conducive to sleeping. She stumbled into the kitchen in a white tank top and black leggings and her smoky eye make up smeared. She leaned against the counter and yawned, covering her mouth with one hand and reaching for the mug of coffee I offered with the other.

Savannah took a sip and then looked from the couch to the open bathroom door. "Where's Erynne? Did she leave already?"

"No, she's in my room."

At the time, I didn't know what set her off. "You slept with Erynne?" she said, her voice rising fast.

I looked up in surprise. It was a bizarre leap to make. Not like I had a track record of bedding my daughter's friends. "No, of course not, Savannah. She couldn't sleep on the couch so we traded places in the middle of the night." I set the spatula down on the counter, and I was more offended than I would've anticipated. "You really think you'd bring a drunk friend home with you and I'd fuck her?"

I guess my tone surprised her, because she pulled back like she'd gotten a shock. "Sorry. I didn't mean to be that crude. It just didn't occur to me you could think that about me."

Savannah shook her head. "No, I'm sorry. You're right. I don't know why I thought that. You'd never do that," she said. "It's just, Erynne is so gorgeous. I guess I wouldn't have blamed you."

"We're not all shitbags, Savannah. Just most of us," I said, and resumed making breakfast. "How you feeling?"

"Not bad," she said. She hesitated for a moment, then wrapped her arms around my waist from behind and pressed her cheek in between my shoulder blades. "Thank you for not being a shitbag."

When I got home from work the following Monday, Savannah was in the kitchen and something smelled amazing. I paused on the way to the shower. "I can't wait to eat whatever it is you're doing in here," I said, and kissed her on the forehead. "I gotta shower."

By the time I'd dressed in a t-shirt and a pair of chino shorts - the weather demanded it - Savannah had dinner on the table and was untying the apron from around her waist. She was oddly dressy, it seemed like, in a gauzy pink camisole and a black linen shorts. "I hope you like it," she said, as she sat down at the cheap card table I'd tried to pass off as a dinner table.

She'd roasted a chicken, with vegetables, and I recognized the herbs as from the halal deli, but she done something to it that made it even better. "Savannah, this is the best food I've had in I don't know how long. Thank you. You don't have to do this, you know."

She shrugged. "What else am I doing? I'm here now with nothing to do until September. The least I can do is make dinner for us. I'm just glad you like it."

"Are you kidding? I love it. You can cook for us anytime."

We cleaned up together, and then dropped onto the couch together and I asked her what she wanted to watch and she said she didn't care. Normally I put on the news, but I knew she had a soft spot for those shows about buying wedding dresses, so I put that on and she leaned into my side.

The way she'd been raised, the way I wasn't around that much, had weighed on me since the start. I thought I was making up for it when she turned ten and started asking to see me more, but then when she was about 13 she applied for scholarships to get into a prestigious boarding school for high school and she got the scholarships and left, and I worried I might've had something to do with it. So now she was living with me and I couldn't escape the guilt. When the show went to commercial, I cleared my throat. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

She paused it and straightened. "What's up?"

"Savannah, you know I was just a kid when we had you. And we both know that I really just wasn't there for most of your childhood, and I'm sorry. It was easy for me to not be very involved, and I wasn't. It was never because I didn't love you or didn't care."

Her eyes passed over my face for a moment. "Then why?"

"I didn't know what to do and I was terrified. I was so afraid I was going to screw you up. I didn't know how to be a good dad. My dad tried and he loved me but he didn't really know either, and my mom left when I was really young. I had no idea what to do with a baby, let alone a little girl. I'm sorry, Savannah. I was scared. I knew I was probably doing the wrong thing, and I did it anyway, and it was shitty of me."