Seven

by Susan Renee

I hold her and quietly sob. My body convulses with emotions but I make no sound. I have no painful sounds left to give. “Please don’t take my sunshine away.” I whisper to her. “I love you Peyton. Mommy loves you so much. I’m so sorry. Don’t be scared baby. I’ll see you soon.” We watch as the nurse wheels Peyton down the hall until we can see her no longer.

  That’s it.

  I can’t be strong anymore.

  I have nothing left.

  I have nobody left.

  It’s just me now.

  Chapter 2

  March 17, 2015

  My alarm went off a half hour ago, but I’m still lying in bed. Anyone else would at least be smiling on their birthday but not me. I’m twenty-seven years old today and what do I have to show for it? I’ve been married and widowed. I’ve had a child and then lost a child and I moved away from my hometown of Bardstown, Kentucky, years ago, only to end up right back where I started. My dreams are shattered, my future is unclear and my present is in a state of constant flux. Yep, that’s cause for celebration.

  “Happy Birthday, Savannah. You’re really going places,” I say sarcastically to myself. I throw off my covers, exposing my legs to the cold air, and roll out of bed. I don’t bother turning my heat up much when I’m the only one I have to worry about keeping warm, and lower bills mean more money in my pocket, not that I need it for anything. I’m sitting on a sizeable chunk of life insurance money that I don’t ever plan on using. Why would I take death money from my husband and child to turn around and buy stupid shit that I don’t need? Insurance companies are assholes. What do they think I’m going to do with all that money? Go on vacation? Buy a new car? Move into a mansion? Who does that? I would give it all back and then some to have them back in my life. Hell, I would switch places with them in an instant if I could. I’m no good to this earth now anyway. I’ve considered just ending my life so I can be closer to Shawn and Peyton, but unfortunately I’m too smart to know what that would do to my parents. I just can’t do it to them as much as I’ve wanted to for myself over the past couple of years.

  For about a year and a half now I’ve lived back in my hometown with my parents. I thought I could be okay living on my own in Lexington, but after a depressing six months, the house was still filled with Shawn and Peyton’s stuff. I just couldn’t bring myself to get rid of it. The house still smelled like them every day. I could still hear them around me, and as much as I wanted that feeling, the feeling that maybe I wasn’t alone, to never leave, it was driving me crazy and pushing me further down into the Hell of depression. I couldn’t get out of bed. I didn’t want to eat; I lost no less than forty pounds. I couldn’t keep my job because I cried all the time. I guess crying isn’t good for customer service or the workplace environment. My parents came to visit me on what would’ve been Peyton’s birthday, took one look at me and the rest was history. I stayed with them until just before this past Christmas. After speaking to my therapist-fuck patient confidentiality I guess-my mom pushed me back out of the nest. She thought it would give me an incentive to get myself out there, meet new people and make friends if I was living on my own. After all, how many twenty-seven-year old girls find love again when they’re still living with Mommy and Daddy? I get it, I do. She’s right I guess. I’ve done an excellent job of being a hermit for two years. I don’t go many places and only have a few old friends who still live in this town, some single, some not. None of them are widowed, so I’m always the elephant in the room when I’m out…which is why I don’t go out often. Who wants to be the Debby Downer when your friends are out for a good time? Fuck love anyway.

  Before Christmas I received a call from Rachel about whether I would be interested in a job at Great Lengths, her local salon, cutting hair. Rachel’s salon is a nice place, I guess, but not at all what I had dreamed for myself several years ago. I started out very slowly, only working one day a week and not many hours. She’s the only one who really knows my past and what it’s done to me, and she’s fully supported me every step of the way. Now that it’s been a few months, I’ve started coming out of my shell more, picking up more clients which means more hours. I guess for now it pays the bills and gets me “out there” as per Mom’s request. Maybe one day I’ll fulfill my dreams of owning my own business.

  My first appointment of the morning is at nine so I quickly shower and grab breakfast before heading out the door to get to work on time.

  “Good morning Savannah!” Rachel exclaims as I walk in the door. She’s always so peppy. She reminds me a little of the person I used to be, but she doesn’t know that.

  That part of me is gone.

  “Mornin’ Rache.” I give her a half smile. My greeting isn’t so new to me anymore. I used to wear my emotions on my sleeve but now I carry them in my pocket, never to be released. I give enough of myself away to talk to my customers when they come in. The always useful “How’s the weather out there?” or “Do you work around here?” conversation starters get me through the work day without having to reveal too much about myself. Rachel knows me from high school so of course she knows about my immediate past. We weren’t the best of friends back then but we weren’t unfriendly either. Lucky for me she’s become a pretty good friend and knows not to bring it up if she doesn’t have to. She seems the type to have a few skeletons in her closet too but since she doesn’t ask me about mine, I don’t ask about hers.

  “Before you get started for the day Savannah, the girls want to take you out tonight for your birthday. You game?” Rachel asks.

  No fucking way!

  “Uh, I don’t know.” I groan shaking my head. “I don’t need any big thing. Twenty-seven doesn’t mean much really. I appreciate the thought though.”

  “No way girl. It’s your birthday and you haven’t celebrated your birthday in…well…I’m not sure how long, but you’ve been working here for a few months now and we’ve never just gone out and had some fun. One or two drinks, some live music. You won’t even have to talk much because we’ll be listening to the music. What do you say? Let us take you out for a little fun?”

  I take a deep breath, letting it out loud enough for Rachel to know I’m not thrilled that she’s asking this of me. “Where are you thinking of going?”

  “How about over to Wood’s Tavern?”

  “Wood’s? Where’s that?”

  “It’s where the old Brooks Pub used to be. The food is great and the music is fun. You’ll like it, I promise. And I’m sure they’ll be doing something awesome for St. Patrick’s Day tonight!”

  I mull over the idea of going for a minute. I’m not keen on being out in public for everyone to show me how much they pity me, but the girls here have been so welcoming to me. I know they mean well. I don’t want to be the bitchy girl who blows them off forever. “Alright. My last cut is at six. Then I’ll give ya’ll about an hour or so. A burger and a bourbon and that’s it, okay? No surprises!”

  Rachel smiles in victory. She knows I usually say no and mean it. “Great! Whatever you want. Promise!”

  “Okay then. I need to get ready for Mrs. Tims. She should be here for her cut and color any minute.”

  “Ok.” She’s still looking at me like she has more to say but is too afraid to say it. “Savannah?”

  “Rachel?” I respond as I pull my apron over my head and tie it around my waist.

  “Just…happy birthday.” She smiles sincerely at me and for a moment I feel guilty for giving her a hard time about taking me out tonight. She’s just trying to be a friend. My old self would’ve done the same for her if roles were reversed.

  But they’re not reversed.

  “Thanks.” I pull out one of those fake smiles I’m getting good at in hopes that it appeases her sympathy. The rest of my day is uneventful, although I do receive flowers from my parents and a birthday card from Shawn’s parents as well. It’s nice that someone is thinking of me today even when I don’t feel like celebrating.

  Rachel, Heather, Audrey, and I close up shop just af
ter seven and head down the street to Wood’s Tavern. The music is already hopping and can be heard from the street, especially as people come and go through the front door. Green lights and St. Paddy’s Day decorations are hanging outside the pub and those leaving the pub are all wearing green beaded necklaces like you would find at a Mardi Gras parade.

  Wonder what you have to do to earn those?

  The bar has most definitely been updated from when I used to hang out here during holiday breaks home from school. The walls have been pulled back to their original stone texture, wooden beams have been added on the ceiling, the brass has been polished and the flooring looks brand new. Everything is very clean and almost worldly looking, but still holds the historic feel of the rest of the town. I’m impressed. Whoever bought and fixed this place has done a nice job. I look to the bar and see one bartender talking with a group of women on the other end. Rolling my eyes, I head with the girls to a table near the back corner. If this guy is going to spend time smiling and flirting with the ladies, it could be a while before we get a drink.

  A perky little waitress approaches our table with water in hand as we’re all studying our menus. “Happy St. Paddy’s Day ladies! What can I get ya’ll tonight?” The girls all place their orders and then look to me.

  “Uh, I’ll have a tavern burger and an Old Fashioned please.” I hand my menu to the waitress.

  “Great. Coming right up ladies! Enjoy yourselves tonight.”

  Five minutes later we’re all sitting around our table with drinks in hand listening to the band playing all sorts of popular covers as we sing along.

  Rachel raises her glass to the center of the table and looks at me, smirking. “To Savannah on her twenty seventh birthday! As she slides down the banister of life, may the splinters never point the wrong way!” I snort unexpectedly at her remarks as my eyes snap up to hers. She winks back at me and grins. “And may she take another step closer toward achieving her dream! Happy birthday Savannah!”

  “Happy birthday! Woohoo! I’ll drink to that.” I hear from the girls around the table.

  “Thanks girls.” I smile and quickly down my drink. I know I told Rachel I would just stay for one drink but fuck it. It’s my birthday. I may as well get wasted and erase this damn day from my mind. Two Whiskey Sours and a Kentucky Cousin later, and this birthday couldn’t get any better. I feel lighter than I’ve felt in a long time. It’s after ten and I’m still dancing like I’m twenty-one while the band plays their version of Fun’s “We Are Young”. I turn around with my arms in the air, letting myself go a little more than I usually would, especially in public. For a split second I see the bartender, who is no longer behind the bar, but standing near my table with his arms folded in front of him, watching the crowd with a satisfied look on his face. He’s probably looking for his next quick lay.

  Mmm…haven’t thought about sex in a long time.

  It’s obviously the bourbon talking.

  The music continues, and I’m laughing with the girls when I feel a hand wrap around my waist. The cologne smell is quite possibly the sexiest thing I’ve smelled in a long time. His hands are strong against my hips and I can easily tell from his stance behind me that he’s strong and well built. Also, I’m a tad drunk. Before I try to turn around and see who it is, his lips nearly brush my ear, sending a spark of God-knows-what to places I probably shouldn’t be aware of right now.

  “Well on a scale of one to four I would give that little dance of yours a perfect ten,” he says softly in my ear.

  What the fuck?

  Seriously, this guy?

  “Are you crazy?” I ask, trying to push his arms off of me. I’m not going to lie. Being touched by a guy feels kind of good, but no way is this guy going to see any action from me. The widow in me screams to attention.

  “Am I crazy?” he asks with a laugh. “You’re the one who sits in sugar, princess.”

  “What?” I ask, looking over my shoulder and brushing off whatever must be on my pants. “Why do you say that?”

  “Because you have a pretty sweet ass.”

  That gets me to turn around, and when I do I stumble backwards, surprised at who I’m looking at. It’s the bartender. He’s way more built than I could tell when I saw him earlier. He’s wearing faded jeans and a fitted green t-shirt that’s partly tucked in because I can see his brown leather belt with a star shaped belt buckle. The cuteness of him almost makes me giggle, except when I look up into his brown eyes, he’s not smiling.

  “Seven?” he whispers, furrowing his brow.

  “Seven?” I laugh. “No way man. You said I was a ten. I heard you clear as fuckin’ day.”

  “No,” he says shaking his head. “You’re Seven. Seven Sanders.”

  Fuck.

  There’s a blast from my past.

  He knows me?

  I jump up out of his reach like I’ve just been burned by hot coals. Clearly he knows me and I don’t remember him, which puts me at a clear disadvantage. I try to place his face but my inebriation is not allowing me to think that clearly.

  “My name isn’t Seven, jack ass. It’s…”

  “Savannah. Yeah, I know. But… I always called you Seven.”

  What the hell? Who is this guy? “Fuck off buddy. Nobody’s called me that since…”

  “Junior high. At least I think that's when it started.” He smirks at me and stands with his arms folded over his chest, clearly having the one-up in this conversation. “You don’t recognize me, do you Seven?”

  Ugh, the nerve of this guy. “Look asswipe, I’m sorry I don’t know who you are. The only thing I know about you is that you’re the guy who has helped me forget this night by supplying me with enough bourbon to guarantee that I’ll be worshiping the porcelain throne in the morning, so thank you for that. I’m a little drunk off my ass right now, and probably wouldn’t recognize myself if I looked in the damn mirror. Now for the last time, my name isn’t Seven. I don’t know who told you to call me that, and to be honest right now, I don’t even care. There was only ever one guy who was douchebag enough to call me that when I was younger, even though I hated it, and you, my fine hunk of a bartender, are not him. So if you’ll excuse me, I need to pay my tab and be on my way.”

  The guy standing in front of me stares at me for a moment just breathing. No expression, he’s just…breathing. He’s obviously thinking something. Perhaps he’s considering an alternative way to get in my pants, or maybe he’s deciding that I’m just not worth it. Regardless, I’m just about to say something else when I see his lips widen into a sexy smile. He bites his bottom lip, I think to keep from laughing at me. As irritating as that is, I’m toasted enough to actually be a bit turned on by his mouth. For the first time in years I actually recognize the feeling, the desire to want to kiss someone, but I don’t. Ugh, this alcohol trip is causing me to have stupid thoughts. I don’t know this guy and he’s an asshole for even trying to bring up my past on my birthday. He nods at me silently before saying, “Your tab is taken care of. Happy birthday Savannah.”

  That’s right it is.

  Take that, bar man.

  In a huff, I push past him and walk back to my table so that I can rummage through my purse for some Advil. I throw my purse back down onto my seat and head to the bar where Rachel is getting another drink. I ask the waitress standing nearby for a glass of water. At least I can do my part to try and curb the hangover I’m sure to end up with. “Hey, I’m heading out. Thanks for a fun night. You were right. I needed it, but don’t be surprised if I’m late tomorrow.”

  “You’re leaving already?” she asks, disappointed. I raise one eyebrow at her in response.

  “I said one drink…and instead I’ve had several…no I mean seven…wait, several...shit.” I shake my head irritated. “Doesn’t matter, I’ve had enough for the night. I’m just going to go.”

  “No way. Not like that. You’re in no condition to drive.”

  “I’m not going to drive, Mom.” I roll my eyes at her. Is
she serious right now? “I can walk from here. It’s only a couple blocks.”

  “What? That’s ridiculous! You’re not going to walk home in the dark and by yourself.”

  Seriously?

  It’s Podunk town.

  May as well be a ghost town.

  “Rache, number one, I’m way too drunk to drive my car right now. Number two, my car will be just fine here till morning. Number three, it’s a small town and I live the equivalent of about five blocks away; besides, who’s going to hurt me any worse than I’ve already had it? Seriously, I think I’ll be fine. See ya tomorrow.”

  Rachel looks past me for a moment, her expression perplexed, before she nods her approval.

  I scowl at her and watch her for a moment to make sure she’s ok. The other girls see that I’m on my way out and join Rachel as I say my goodbyes.

  “Happy birthday Savannah!” I hear for the last time before I leave.

  “It’ll be a happy birthday when I’m alone and in my bed. I may even invite my battery operated boyfriend.” I mutter to myself when I walk out the door.

  I try to walk quickly towards my apartment building. Not because I’m scared of walking alone at night, but because it’s cold outside and I just want to be in the heat…or the mild heat at least. There’s surprisingly no snow on the ground right now. Bardstown, Kentucky, is having an unseasonably warm week given the snow we had just two weeks ago, but walking in the mid-forties still sucks. I only live a few blocks away which is good because I really need to pee.

  I make it about three blocks before I get that feeling that creeps me out and puts me on instant alert. I sober up faster than I ever have because I feel like someone is behind me, following me. I’m afraid to turn around and check.

  Damnit. Maybe Rachel was right.

  Why did she even let me leave?

  Someone is definitely following me. At least I’m pretty sure there is, even though I have no evidence to confirm my fear. It’s just a feeling I have when I know I’m not alone. I know if I turn around and look to see who is behind me, I could be wasting time, when I could just make a mad dash for my building. I pick up my pace and dart out into the middle of the road. Since there’s no traffic, I feel a little safer walking where anyone could see me. My apartment building is in sight, but my anxiety, and perhaps my level of intoxication, are playing cruel games with my nerves.