Haunted Savannah

Chapter Four: Coffee...

Savannah woke the next morning with a blaring headache, and nearly made the mistake of rolling out of her vaulted bed - which was so near the ceiling that if she sat straight up she might have bumped her head.  Her studio was big on light, but low on space, so she bought the vaulted single bed to give herself a bit more room. This decision made it decidedly harder to bring a boy home, a side effect that she, unfortunately, hadn’t considered at the time she selected her furnishings.

This was probably because she’d never actually brought a boy home. Well, not in the indelicate sense of the phrase, anyway. While many teenagers were worrying about losing their v-card, Savannah was concerning herself with making enough money at her part time job to afford the fine oil paints she needed for her next masterpiece. Shane had teased her about her naivety, but he’d also told her quite frequently that he wanted to keep her as innocent as possible.

Her older sister and other friends, the few of them that she had, had been equally protective of her and her so-called innocence. This suited Savannah just fine at the time. She enjoyed looking, and had never really wanted to touch. She didn’t think boys, or girls for that matter, were gross or anything like that. She was just more driven by artistic vision than lust. 

She often wondered if that single minded focus would end up causing her problems, as everyone around her placed such a high premium on romantic relationships, but so far she’d found it just made her successful at whatever she was putting her mind to. Romance was a bit of a distraction, and she didn’t have any. 

Now that she was on her own, however, she was starting to feel that bite of loneliness. Her sister had advised her that she didn’t need to go looking for romance; if she was happy being herself and living her life, romance would find her. But, after spending high school with little romantic interest, she found that she was getting tired of waiting. She was more than two years into University and she’d barely even flirted with a guy, let alone brought one home.

She always assumed that when she left for University, and was far from her overprotective friends, she’d blossom into the vivacious, sexy butterfly she never had been in highschool. With the help of the internet, she’d figured out a little bit more about herself - or how her body worked anyway - but she never blossomed physically. She was still the flat-chested, long-legged, befreckled ginger she always had been. At least she was comfortable in her own skin; she might not be a spring break beach babe, but her acne had mostly disappeared during her late teens, and having good skin was nothing to scoff at.

Savannah groaned as she forced herself to pull away the hand that she’d been using to shield her eyes from the invading morning light. She lay in the bed a few minutes, letting her eyes adjust to said light, and the rest of her adjust to the unfortunate state of being awake. As a dedicated insomniac and avid night person, Savannah was not a fan of morning - despite having scheduled all her classes for early in the day.

Eventually, Savannah climbed down from her lofted bed with just enough time to give her hair a brush, wash her face, brush her teeth, and throw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt before huffing it to her first class.  The patrons had been kind to her the previous night, and despite having had several alcoholic floats, she still had a bit left over - enough to grab a coffee before class. If she hurried, anyway.

She used to think coffee was gross, but since moving to the city of Savannah and taking on the massive course load that the school demanded, she discovered a deep and abiding affection for the bitter bean juice. Although her barista, Mario, usually joked that she liked a dash of coffee with her mocha syrup and milk, rather than the other way around. Thankfully, Mario wasn’t as judgy as the other baristas. Plus, the way he winked at her, and his lilting Spanish accent, made her heart flutter a bit.

Savannah trotted along down Park Avenue, her cross-body book bag slapping against her behind as she hurried toward the coffee mecca known as The Sentient Bean. Professor Judy was not kind to students who entered his classroom late. Savannah hustled past the wrought iron patio chairs on the sidewalk outside the coffee shop. The little bell above her head tinkled, as she tugged the door open, and Mario looked up to greet her.

He smiled warmly, a twinkle in his big brown eyes as he said, “If it isn’t my favorite caffeine addict.”

Savannah laughed, and said, “I bet you say that to all the junkies.”

“Only you, mi cariña. Your usual, today, Anna?” Mario asked, pronouncing his nickname for her with a soft A to start and an uptick at the end, making it sound exotic to her middle-suburban southern ear. It helped that his voice was smooth like warm honey.

“Please, to go also..and thank you.” Savannah said, blushing faintly. She’d told him to call her Anna, but this was the first time he’d taken her up on it since they met a few months earlier.

Savannah watched the well practiced barista prepare her drink with hungry eyes, though whether it was for the young man himself or the drink he was making, she wasn’t quite sure. She was thirsty in more ways than one this morning, a feeling that only kicked up a notch when she accepted the warm to-go cup and her fingers brushed against Mario’s. 

“Here you are,” Mario said, smiling winsomely down at her as he noticed the light blush to her cheeks - which only made her face turn beet red.

“Thank you, Mario.” Savannah sputtered, refusing to let the redness in her face get the better of her. She did her best not to yank the coffee away too quickly, or let her fingers linger too long against his. Either reaction would be rude or weird, but it was so hard to judge what was a normal amount of time to flirt. 

“Any time, mi cariña.” Mario responded casually, before motioning to the next customer who had come in behind her.

Savannah tried not to look as thrilled as she felt, and scooted out of the coffee shop, the steamy cup of life giving essence clutched tight to her chest.

Savannah cut through the park on her way to Pepper Hall. Now that it was daytime and the ominous fog had been evaporated by the morning sun, Forsyth Park had returned to its usual bucolic glory. Above her, the gently sloping branches of the live oaks with their billowing tendrils of gray spanish moss gave way to park’s central feature - an ornate fountain with swans, satyrs, cranes, and a lovely wading woman standing proudly atop its second tier. The park, with its wide paved slab promenades, beautiful green lawns, and elaborate fountain would have been equally at home in one of the European cities it was inspired by, but was now one of the city’s most beloved and iconic features. For Savannah, Forsyth Park was the beating heart of the city, and if she’d had the time she would have enjoyed a leisurely stroll down its winding walks.

Unfortunately, the best she could do this morning was a power walk-by ogling of the park’s various delights. She was toeing the razor edge of being late, and three tardies would mean an automatic fail of the class. Before starting school at an expensive arts university, she sat down and calculated the cost of an individual class, and often used the resulting astronomical number to remind herself to take her studies seriously. It was so easy to get distracted; she had to ground herself somehow.

Savannah arrived just in time for her class, and slid into her seat near the back of the room with only a mild pant to her breathing. She took a deep breath, hoping her face wasn’t too red from the effort it took to get there on time, and held it for a few seconds before releasing. After a few repetitions of this breathing technique, her heart stopped pounding and she found she could breathe easily again. She smiled, happy that the yoga technique Marina had told her about actually seemed to work. She was pretty sure her friend got it from some social media meme, but if it worked it worked.

The pleasant relaxing feeling that had washed over her didn’t last long, as it was replaced by the distinct feeling of someone watching her. No, not just watching her - staring at her. Without turning her head, she cast her eyes to the left, and saw from the corner of her eye that Cory was looking at her. She suppressed a groan, and decided to ignore him. He’d probably fall asleep soon enough; he usually did, right along with the rest of the class.

As Professor Judy took to the lectern to deliver what would most assuredly be her most boring lecture of the day, Savannah settled in, pencil poised over her now open notebook. Professor Judy, aside from being preternaturally punctual, was the driest, most monotone speaker that Savannah had ever encountered. Knowing this, he often adjusted their grades to a curve - as the majority of students found it incredibly difficult to resist the soporific sound of his voice long enough to take reasonable notes.

Savannah listened intently to Professor Judy as he pontificated on the meaning of an off-white square painted on a square, white canvas, and was surprised when the stately elder’s voice came to a papery, shuffling halt. Had she not been concentrating so hard on the plodding sound she may not have noticed immediately. She did occasionally get distracted, not being completely inoculated against the professor’s monotone.

The part-time ghost guide looked up, and saw the professor frowning in displeasure; she thought at first that he was frowning at her, but after looking around a moment she realized that she was the only one in the class still awake.

“I...I’m sorry Professor,” Savannah said quietly, causing the old man to focus on her.

He blinked at her for a moment then sighed deeply, and gave her a wry smile. “Well, it looks like it’s just us today, Miss Jones. Why don’t we take this outside, then?”

Savannah smiled and gathered up her things, quietly following Professor Judy out of the classroom. She turned back only briefly, giggling a bit before hurrying along. It was a lovely day, and there were two other classes already seated around the grassy sections of Chatham Square. Since it was just the two of them, Savannah and Professor Judy took a seat on one of the unoccupied benches and continued their one-on-one lecture under the warmth of the dappled morning sun through the thick green leaves of the trees above.

By the time the lesson ended several other students, including Cory, had woken up and joined them.

“Thank you for joining us today,” Professor Judy said, sarcasm tinting his tone as he got up from the bench. “Please read the next chapter, and come to the next class prepared with answers for the follow up questions at the end.”

Savannah stretched a bit as the other students got up from the grass where they’d been sitting. She slid her notebook into her bag, then got up herself. When she stood, she found Cory right in front of her - too close for comfort. She nearly sat back down, but Cory stepped back instead, giving her the space she clearly needed.

“Sorry,” the young man muttered. “I didn’t mean to crowd you. I just wanted to ask how you’re feeling...you were pretty drunk last night.”

Savannah brushed a loose strand of red hair behind her ear, and replied, “I was...and...er...thanks. I’m feeling ok. I had a headache this morning, but I’m better. Coffee and sunshine helped.”

Cory nodded at this, and turned like he was going to go. Then, he paused, and turned back to say, “Do you want a ride to the next class?”