A Year of Her Life

Chapter 2

 I shot straight up in my bed.  Sweat rolling down my body and tears gushing from my eyes.  I wiped my eyes and looked around as if I should be dead.  The tension I felt in my dream was still felt in every muscle.  I realized I was safe in my room, sitting on my bed.  I stopped crying.  I released a small whimper that carried a smaller amount of tension away.  I tried to loosen my muscles and calm myself.  It didn’t work.  I wasn’t sure why this recurring dream bothered me so bad.  Sure I have dreamed things before and then they happened.  But, I didn’t know anyone with a big blue car.  And, I certainly didn’t know anyone with looks that could easily pass for an angel.  I have been having this dream every since I can remember.  I think it started when I was five. 

I do dream things a lot that then happen.  It’s not like déjà vu, I clearly remember the dream.  I am able to think about it after I wake up.  When whatever happened in the dream happens, I can say, “Hey, I dreamed that!”  One time I dreamed that a witch knocked me down as I came into my kitchen.  Well, I knew that would never happen.  Two weeks later, on Halloween, the broom we had dressed as a witch fell and knocked me down as I walked into the kitchen.  Weird, huh? I have also dreamt that I was talking to someone and whatever I was saying started an argument.  Those times I enjoyed my dreams because I just changed what we were talking about and avoided an argument.

I can’t dwell on the dream this morning.  We have things to do. It’s my older sister’s birthday today.  I am happy for her.  Our parents have been whispering for weeks about her present.  I think it must be something very exciting.  I am eight years younger than her.  That makes me ten years old.  It also makes the year 1986.  This was a year of change and disaster in my life.

My bedroom door swings open and I look over to see who it is.  “Get up lazy butt, Mama and Daddy want to give me my birthday present before it’s time for me to go out.”  Georgia was bouncing with a smile plastered across her face that I knew would be there all day.  She didn’t notice my tear stained face, and the tension that was held in my body was gone in an instant.  I had dreamed the scene so many times that it had become habit to let it go.

 “What do you think it is?” I asked obviously not having a clue.  Think about it, if you have a secret to keep, don’t tell the ten-year-old!

 “I have no idea, just come on.  I want you to see it when I do.”  She grabbed my hand and we were both off to see what my parents had come up with.

My parents had lived in Georgia when they were first married.  They always said that they were happiest there.  They used to tell us stories about that time in their lives filled with laughter and love.  After a few years of marriage, they moved to South Carolina to be near my Mom’s parents.  When my mother became pregnant with my sister, they said it felt natural that they name her Georgia so that they would always remember their happy younger days.  When I came along, they thought it fitting to name me Savannah, a city in Georgia, because I looked so much like my sister.  I liked it because there wouldn’t be a Savannah without a Georgia.  On the other hand, Georgia’s friends often picked on me asking if they couldn’t leave the ‘little city’ behind.  Georgia always laughed, but almost never left me behind.

My parents, Nora and Will, were standing in our family room arguing about something.  Nora was a petite woman with short brown hair with gray streaking.  She was tan with red blotches on her face from her excessive consumption of alcohol.  Her hands were thin with her nails kept long.  She wore three rings, her engagement ring, her wedding ring, and her mother’s ring.  Will was a tall man with hands bigger than my head.  His hair was jet black.  He wore it short and always combed back and to the side, kind of like men in the 1950’s, but without the oil.  They were both good looking people.  When they saw us come into the room they straightened up and put smiles on their faces. This was nothing new.  They were always arguing except when they were full out fighting.  It was very predictable, Mom would start drinking and Dad would start yelling.  After a while they would both get tired of it and start hitting each other.  When that got old, Dad would turn on us, the kids.  Georgia always puts herself in front of me and takes the brunt of it.  She is my protector.  Georgia always makes sure that I’m safe, no matter the cost to her.   I know that she will move out and go to college next year.  The thought of living with them alone makes me shutter.