Listen for the Lie(11)
“I do hope you’ll go out and see folks.” Her hand is still on mine, and she looks at me anxiously.
“No one wants to see me, Mom.”
“Sure they do. And I think it’s best if you don’t hide. You don’t have anything to be ashamed of, do you?”
It’s a genuine question, one that requires my response. Mom asks me constantly, in a million different ways, whether I murdered Savvy. Maybe she thinks that if she asks enough, I’ll eventually let it slip that I did indeed bash my friend’s brains in. I have to admire her persistence.
“No, I don’t have anything to be ashamed of,” I lie.
“That’s right, dear.” That’s what she always says when she thinks I’m lying.
And my mom definitely thinks I’m lying about not remembering the night that Savvy died. She tried for years to get me to confess.
She pestered me to come back home after I left for L.A.—“If you’re back here, you might remember something. Or you might feel compelled to share something new. Have you seen the memorial they did for Savvy?”
She tried the god approach—“You need to confess and atone for your sins here if you want to be forgiven in the next life.”
She gave logic a whirl—“You were the only one with Savvy that night, so I think that it’s time to face facts.”
She went for guilt (by far her favorite)—“Do you know what that family is going through? They need an explanation.”
There is nothing my mother wants more than for me to confess to killing Savvy. Not just because she thinks it’s the right thing to do, but because she would excel as the mother of a murderer.
She’d be a star at church. She’d give long speeches about forgiveness. She’d write a book about overcoming the guilt she felt at raising a murderer. Sometimes I think that she’s angrier about me depriving her of this than she is about me actually (maybe) murdering someone. Mom enjoys being the best at everything, and I’ve denied her the opportunity to be the best mother of a murderer. You can’t be the best mother of a woman suspected of murder. That just doesn’t have the same ring to it.
I stand, and her hand slips off mine. “Do you need anything?”
“No, I’m fine, hon.” She smiles up at me, and I head to the door. “By the way, I don’t know if anyone told you, but that podcaster is back in town. Might want to keep an eye out.”
Listen for the Lie Podcast with Ben Owens EPISODE ONE—“THE SWEETEST GIRL YOU EVER MET”
Savannah’s mother, Ivy Harper, invites me to her home shortly after I arrive in Plumpton. It’s the first of several conversations.
Ben:???????????????Hi, Mrs. Harper?
Ivy:?????????????????Ben! It’s so nice to meet you, finally. Come in, come in. And please call me Ivy.
Ivy is a small woman, just barely over five feet tall, with blond hair that is neatly braided every time I see her. Savannah took after her mom, which I mention when I see the pictures of her hanging on the wall.
Ben:???????????????Wow, how old is she here? She looks just like you.
Ivy:?????????????????That’s tenth grade, so about fifteen. We took these after services on Easter Sunday.
The Harper home is the same one that Savannah grew up in. It’s a large, four-bedroom house that’s sparsely furnished, making it seem even bigger. There are pictures of Savannah everywhere—on the walls, in picture frames on the tables, in the slideshow playing on the television.
Ivy and I sit at the round table in the breakfast nook, a bright room just off the kitchen, and she tells me about Savannah. Or Savvy, as everyone in her life called her.
Ivy:?????????????????Savvy was so happy. Her whole life. Even as a teenager! She was the worst baby, just crying all the time, constantly, but about age two she just became as cheerful as could be, and that never let up. She had her days, I guess, but for the most part she was just a really joyful woman. Maybe too joyful.
Ben:???????????????How do you mean?
Ivy:?????????????????Well, I used to tell her to calm down, to think things through. She’d just get so excited about something and want to do it immediately. She was so excited to experience new things, sometimes it was like she wanted to do everything all at once. I wanted her to slow down. I’d tell her she had her whole life. But I guess she knew that wasn’t going to be long.
Ben:???????????????Can you give me an example?
Ivy:?????????????????When she was ten—or maybe eleven—and we were still living in New Orleans, she decided she wanted to try out for this local production of Romeo and Juliet. For the role of Juliet. And I said to her, “Savvy, that role isn’t for a child. Only adults can audition for that role. Maybe a teenager could, but not a ten-year-old.” She was so mad at me. She begged me and begged me to go audition, and I said no, so she just hopped on a city bus after school one day, marched over there, and auditioned all by herself.
Ben:???????????????Did she get it?
Ivy:?????????????????No, but they gave her another small role. But, of course, she didn’t want that one, she wanted Juliet. So she didn’t do it. She did play Juliet eventually, when Plumpton High did a production. She was fifteen then. It was a big commotion when the role went to a sophomore.
Ben:???????????????When did you move to Plumpton? You said you were in New Orleans when Savvy was ten.