Chapter 3
EJ
The following day
EJ was used to the spotlight. He rarely got nervous in public or social situations. Getting a haircut was not something that would normally rattle his nerves. But this haircut was different. He was shaken.
He saw Savannah's photograph on the wall in the lobby of the salon, and he knew she was the same girl from all those years ago.
He had studied her face when they were younger, and even though she had changed, she was also the same.
He knew those eyes. She was a woman now, but it was the same face.
If this woman wasn't his Savannah, then she had a twin.
But that was impossible because they had the same name.
EJ stepped back, trying to look at the other things on the wall even though he wanted to stare at the photograph.
The salon was in a large, multi-story house. He had checked in with a woman when he came into the entryway, and now he was waiting for Savannah.
"Edward?" he heard his name, and he turned to find her standing there in one of the doorways.
"Yes," he said, with a little wave.
"I'm Savannah," she said, moving forward and extending her hand to shake his. She had on black denim overall shorts with long socks and a burgundy tank top. Her dark, wavy hair was clipped half-up away from her face. "Are you here for a haircut today?"
"I am," he said, looking straight into her eyes.
She wasn't looking at him, though. She had glanced at him, and she was wearing a cordial smile, but she didn't stop moving her gaze long enough to stare at EJ. He had already confirmed that he was there for a haircut, and the second he did, she had turned, motioning for him to follow her.
"Welcome to Van Rodgers Salon," she said, with a quick turn and smile. "I saw that it was your first time here."
"It is."
"Well, I'm Van Rodgers. Van or Vannah. Or you can take it all the way out to three syllables and call me Savannah.
I answer to any of them." She made the introduction as they walked into the nearest room.
It looked like it was once the house's living room, but it now had two hair stations, one on each side.
There were also shampoo bowls and dryers that were situated on other walls.
It was warm and eclectic in there. Everything was tidy, with the floors swept, but it was decorated warmly, like no other salon he had ever been to.
It was upscale but artsy and not at all intimidating.
She motioned to her station. It was the one on the wall with the windows.
It was the best station, and she was the owner. He was impressed.
"I thought you could sit down and we'll talk about what you'd like to see with your hair before we go to the shampoo bowl."
EJ sat, and for the next fifteen minutes, they went through the motions.
They discussed his haircut, and then they went to the shampoo bowl where Savannah washed and conditioned his hair and then towel-dried it before gesturing for him to follow her back to the other chair.
They talked about hair and made other general small talk the whole time, and it was all so fast and business-like that she had no time to study him and realize who he was.
She took him in as if the whole thing was clinical.
She would gaze at his face with a vague stare that never gave a chance for any recognition.
A woman was cleaning the other station, but she paid no attention to them.
Savannah neatly combed and parted his hair before getting out her clippers.
She held them in one hand and the comb in the other as she went to work around his ear.
Sometime before the shampoo, she had put on a black apron.
She had on knee-high athletic socks with black high-top Chuck Taylors, and she was adorable.
EJ was disappointed when she swiveled his chair and he could no longer glance her way in the reflection.
She was amazing, and she had no idea who he was.
EJ wanted to say something to her about knowing her, and he got caught up imagining the outcome of that.
He was tongue-tied. He had been there for twenty minutes, and he had no idea how to say it.
He could barely think straight. Savannah was sweeter and more beautiful than he anticipated.
"Any big plans for the weekend?" The clippers were running, and she spoke over them.
"I'm hanging out with some friends tomorrow night, and then Sunday, I'm going to my parents' house to eat lunch with them."
"Aw, that's so nice," she said. "Do they live here in Pittsburgh?"
"No, uh, they don't," he said.
EJ stared at her as she came in front of him to see how the bit of work above his ear was shaping up. She was only there for a second before going back to work. She was precise, and her movements were confident and fluid.
"So, you'll travel to see them?" she asked vaguely as she continued working.
"They live thirty minutes from my house," he replied. He wasn't going to lie if she asked for any more details. But she didn't.
"Does your mom cook?" She asked instead.
"Uh, no, not so much. She can host a mean dinner party, but she doesn’t do much of the cooking. I think my dad's doing something in his smoker."
"Oh, that sounds great. It seems like you're close to your parents."
"Y-yes, I am. Very."
"Siblings?"
"Yes. A twin brother and a younger sister. And I'm close to them as well. I work with my brother."
"Nice," she said. "I have a brother who's five years older than me. We didn’t grow up close, but we've gotten closer in recent years. Mostly, we keep up with each other online. He's back in Chicago."
"That's where I'm… I'm from Chicago," EJ said.
He could feel the tension rising. His blood started heating up, and his heart started to race. He could taste the truth on the tip of his tongue. He could almost feel the words forming. But he stayed silent because he couldn't think of the right way to say it.
"Oh, that's cool, I'm from over near there, too," she said.
His heart was pounding in his chest.
He cleared his throat.
"What brings you to Pittsburgh?" she asked. "Do you live here now, or are you just passing through?"
He hesitated only for a second or two. "No, I'm just passing through," he said.
He could hear his heart beating. Blood was rushing through his body, and he just knew that he was about to say that he was there for her.
But he couldn’t do it.
It was like his mouth was glued shut.
He sat there in silence, thinking about how to tell her that and unable to do it. He had just driven seven hours to see her. It seemed like too much to admit.
EJ sat there for what must've been a full minute while she worked. It wasn't awkward because her hands were busy and there was music playing. But it was awkward for EJ. His blood pressure was through the roof. He concentrated on slowing his heart rate and taking slow, calming breaths.
"My sister got married a few months ago," he said, grasping onto family news since it was easy and neutral.
"Oh, that's nice."
"Was it in Chicago? Did you say you still live there?"
"Yosemite actually. It was beautiful. Her husband is from California, and they wanted to do it near his family so they wouldn't have to travel so far."
"I bet that was pretty."
"It was amazing. There was snow. It was gorgeous. My sister's a party planner, so she had fun with it."
"That's neat. I've been doing hair for so long that I meet people from all walks of life. You can pretty much name a profession, and I've heard about it. Party planning's a good one. What about you? Do you like to talk about your job?"
"I have a family business," he said.
"Yeah, you said you work with your brother."
"We own a gym."
The woman who had been cleaning interrupted their conversation. "Van, I’m going to lunch," she said.
Savannah paused to speak to her, and when she did, EJ glanced at her. He loved her profile. Everything about her was irresistible, right down to her voice.
"Okay, I'll see you in a little while," she said to the other woman.
"I'm bringing back a piece of that chocolate cake for Evie. Do you want one?"
Savannah nodded. "Yes, I do actually. I'll Venmo you when I'm done here. Or I have cash too, if you need it now."
"Venmo's fine," the girl said. "Evie and Bree are both staying here for lunch."
"Okay, thanks, Alice."
Savannah didn't skip a beat before going right back to cutting his hair.
"Must be some chocolate cake," EJ said.
"It is. It's from Café Eight. Have you been there? It's three layers, and the slices are huge. I keep it in the fridge and eat off of it for days. I would have mentioned it to you, but she takes a couple of hours for lunch, so I knew you wouldn't be here. Have you been to Café Eight?"
"No," he said.
"You should go there sometime. They have good food, too."
"I'll have to check it out," he said. "Eight's my number, so that'll be easy for me to remember."
"Eight's your favorite number? My favorite number is three."
"Three's cool," he said.
"It's just like eight with the side of it erased."
She made the statement so casually that it took EJ a second to realize that he had no idea what she was saying. "What do you mean?"
"Three," she said. "It's an eight with the edge of it erased." She motioned like she was swiping a chalkboard with an eraser. "You know, like if you take away the whole front edge of an eight… then it's a three."
EJ let out a little laugh. "Yeah, I guess you're right," he said.
"Three's cool for other reasons, too, though," she said.
"Yeah, it is," he agreed with a smile.
He sat in the chair, talking to her and trying not to notice the fact that she was touching him the whole time.
He wanted to ask if she was married. He was attracted to her, and she seemed completely oblivious to him.
He knew this woman. He knew her as a girl, but he had known her well, and it felt so odd to sit there with his heart pounding and his blood rushing and say nothing about it.
"Do you have any hobbies?" he asked, even though it was not what he wanted to say.
"I do, I make mosaics—sculptures. I made that fountain in the foyer… and the lady over there."
"You made those?" he asked, sounding as surprised as he felt.
He had already noticed the pieces she was talking about.
He knew they were mosaic, but he never thought that's what she was talking about when she brought it up.
This salon had a lot of art, and those were some of the coolest pieces in there.
They were gorgeous and striking. The woman she was talking about was a full-size human woman, sprawled in a casual seated position.
She was covered in small, shimmering mosaic tiles.
Her face was nondetailed and mostly brownish tile, and she was beautiful.
She was in a sitting position, gazing out of the window in the corner of the room.
EJ could see it from where he was sitting, and he could not believe she made it.
The colors faded and transitioned into each other in stripes and patterns, and she was just gorgeous. It was a fine art piece.
"That's beautiful," he said. "I thought you bought those."
"Well, I bought the stuff to make it," she said humbly, laughing a little.
"I really just buy the sculptures and make mosaics over them.
I didn't sculpt anything. The fountain was from a garden store, and the lady was made of foam, actually.
I found her at a flea market with clothes on like a mannequin.
She's stuck in that one position. Her legs don’t straighten or anything.
We thought she'd look good sitting on a chair. "
"Do you have a partner? Someone you work with? You said 'we'."
"Oh, no. I was just talking about everyone up here. No, no partners. I have a big, glorious mess in my living room, and I work alone."
"When did you start doing mosaics?"
"Only in like the last eight months or so."
"What? How are you so good already?"
She laughed at how serious his question was.
"I mean it."
"No, there are imperfections if you look closely," she said.
"I need to replace a couple of the tiles.
Also, I have a friend who owns multiple businesses.
He has hooked me up with all sorts of tile, so I have a lot of beautiful material to work with.
That makes it so easy." She paused the haircut and turned his chair a bit.
He glanced at the mosaic woman. Savannah was too humble. This thing was a piece of art.
"Do you sell it?" he asked.
"I haven't yet. Nobody's even asked about the fountain, and I just moved her in here last week," she said, smiling a little.
"This stuff starts to crowd my apartment, so I bring it down here.
I have four or five pieces in here now, and the fountain was the only one I intentionally made for the space.
"I would buy something if you're willing to sell it," he said. "Or I don't have to. I don't mean to put you on the spot. Is any of it for sale?"
She was sweet and easygoing, and she just smiled, shook her head. "I could show you a few things I've done, but I don't really sell any of it yet. It's just a hobby, and I'm still learning. I could just give you one of my smaller pieces."