American Honey by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction-Anthology
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18 – Savannah

Paris…

The Reeducation of Savannah McGuire will be continued.

Look for it in the Fall, 2014

Melissa Collins

Chapter 1

Owen

“Hey, Mom,” I mumble a greeting around the carton of orange juice.

This, of course, prompts her to smack me upside the head. “I raised you better than that,” she chides playfully, as she reaches behind me into the cabinet for a glass. The funny part is that she can’t quite reach it, even on her tippy toes. Laughing at her general goofiness, I easily stretch above her and get out my own glass, like I should have in the first place.

Her broad smile is all the reward I need. She reaches up on her toes again to pop a quick kiss on my cheek. I consider not bending down, just to play around with her, but even I know that would be mean. “How was work?” she asks, pulling food out of the refrigerator.

“Hot,” is all I can manage between gulps of juice. Walking over to the trash can, I shrug as I toss the empty carton away. “Same as usual, I guess.” She offers me up a sad smile, but doesn’t say anything.

Leaning back against the counter, I cross my legs at the ankles and watch her cook. She’s a tiny thing, no more than five feet, and maybe one hundred and ten pounds on a good day. The knife she’s using to chop some veggies for a salad looks like it’s as big as her forearm. Walking over to her, I shake my head and put my hand over hers to steady it. “Sit, Mom. I’ll cook you dinner tonight, okay?”

She smiles brightly up at me, her baby blue eyes twinkling despite the exhaustion that’s always there. With the tenderness that only Mom is capable of, she pats my stubble-covered cheek and says, “That’s my boy.” In that instant, I wonder if she struggled with the largest knife in the entire kitchen, possibly in the entire world, just to get me to make the salad.

God, I love this woman. That’s why when she got a sick last year, it was an easy enough decision to move back home and give up everything I’d worked to build for myself. Before moving back to the east end of Long Island, back to where I’d grown up and promised never to return, I was finishing up my first year at a finance company in Boston where I went to college. It sounds melodramatic, but when Mom called to tell me she was sick, I ran straight home. Suddenly, everything I’d worked for, everything I’d thought I’d become, didn’t matter anymore.

Chuckling to myself about how she’s just conned me into cooking for her, I toss the tomatoes into the bowl of lettuce. As I look out the small kitchen window, my past comes back to me full-force. My father left before I was even born, so it’s always just been Mom and me. Having never known him, I can’t exactly say I hate him, but in the same breath, he left.

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