Authors: Nikki Mathis Thompson
She pleaded with her eyes and made sure to pout her lips.
“Awe, baby, come on. Don’t give me that look. I’ll see you soon. I’m just gonna pop over for a bit. We have to go over the details of our quail huntin’ trip next weekend.”
“Next weekend? You didn’t tell me about that.”
“I didn’t? Huh, thought I did. Anyway, Wayne’s got a new cabin and we’re all gonna break it in next weekend. Ya mind?” His blue eyes softened, the way they always did when he wanted her to say yes.
And he did it again—put her on the spot. She had two choices. Say no and be the bad guy, or lie through her teeth and say, “Sure, I don’t mind.”
Choice number two, like always.“Thanks, baby.” He kissed her cheek and patted her behind. He must have given them a thumbs up because cheers erupted as he joined the guys.
She sighed and turned away. The next part was automatic and routine—put a smile on. Smile on the outside…but on the inside, the inside was whatever she wanted to be.
Thoughts, wishes, hopes, fears. They were the only things she had that was hers and hers alone. She hoarded them greedily. Kept them under lock and key. Not that Nate ever asked, or even imagined she might have anything going on other than the front she presented. Wasn’t it obvious, though?
Men were notoriously obtuse when it came to a woman’s complex emotions. Whether the male sex was truly in the dark, or played at it flawlessly, would most likely remain a mystery.
Either way, it drove her insane. She was baffled that she wanted to kiss him one minute, and kick him the next.
Her vision blurred as the bustling activity around her whirled as if it were water spinning on the edges of a drain. Music…Eating…Laughter…Warm embraces…Kids stealing sweets…Men bragging…Women gossiping.
Georgia stood amidst it all, feeling detached.
How could she feel so alone with so much life going on around her—to feel invisible despite being surrounded by others? She’d give anything to lose the uneasy feeling just beneath her skin. It crawled and itched. Kept her up at night. Uncertainty, not of what tomorrow would bring, but what she wanted from it.
Complacency is a festering thing—a parasite that lulls you into a sense of peace, but under the surface it’s sucking at your soul. Slow. Gradual. The peace, an illusion.
You think you’re floating, but in reality, your head is being held under water.
~Chapter Seven~
“Thanks for no-showing at the picnic, biatch, ” Georgia griped, holding up her middle finger.
“Sorry, I got held up by my nap and channel surfing.” Lucy grinned, then took a sip of her coffee. She’d come over an hour earlier bearing a box of guilt muffins, banana nut, Georgia’s favorite, and a contrite smile. They were now sitting on the beige love seat in Georgia’s sitting room enjoying those muffins.
“I had to listen to Gladys Leonard go on and on about the genius of Crisco. Yeah, not just for cooking.…I won’t tell you what the stash in her bathroom is for, but use your imagination.”
“Ew! TMI much? I swear, some of those old biddies at church have no freaking filter…But really, I’m sorry I didn’t show. I know you hate those things.”
Georgia nodded, thoughtfully chewing the small bite she’d put in her mouth.
“Well, at least Nate was there to keep you company. That is, if none of his buddies were there.” Lucy loved Nate, but knew how he was. Just like Georgia knew all the good and bad about Lucy’s husband, Brett, who she could always count on in the bedroom, but not in any other rooms in the house.
“They were, so he spent most of the day by the smoker. Probably talking about hunting and the NFL draft.” Lucy made a gagging face and brushed the crumbs off her yoga pants.
“Oh, well, I survived and the girls had a blast, so no big,” Georgia admitted. “These muffins are amazing, by the way. If you’d just shown up with those shitty donuts from the gas station, I would still be pissed.” They knocked into each other’s shoulders and laughed.
“I knew I had to butter you up, so I drove into Clive and picked these up. They have this amazing new bakery on Fifth and Main.”
“Wow, you drove twenty minutes just to get me muffins? Your ass kissing knows no bounds.”
“I know, right?”
“You know you didn’t need to bring me anything. I can never stay mad at you.”
“Oh, yeah? What about that time I super glued your underwear drawer shut? Remember you had to go commando for two days until your dad got back into town.”
Georgia laughed. “God, he was so pissed. He had to pry the front panel off with a crow bar.”
“Or what about the time I froze your—”
“Okay, okay. There are a million ‘what about the times’ you could bring up. But I never stay mad at you—for long.”
Georgia pulled Lucy’s small frame into her side. She could smell the lotion Lucy had worn for as long as she could remember. It instantly comforted her. If Georgia’s true North had a smell, it would be that soft vanilla scent.
They continued to chat shoulder to shoulder until it was time to pick up their little ones from Mother’s Day Out. Lucy’s son, Wyatt, was six months younger than Bonnie. They always joked about who would be the hotter mom when their kids married each other. Lucy said tan skin ages slower, so she would win hands down since Georgia’s “pasty white face will crack like a pie crust.” Georgia always said she would look statuesque and lean no matter her age, while Lucy’s “short veiny legs will make her look like a Hispanic hobbit in drag.”
They walked down the drive together, hugging one last time.
“Hey, my one o’clock cancelled tomorrow. Come in, your ends look like shit,” Lucy teased, pulling a piece of Georgia’s hair.
“Gee, thanks, bestie.”
“My pleasure. I’ll see you tonight, right?” Lucy asked.
“Why not? There are two things you can always count on, me pretending to be social, and me being the hot one.”
Lucy laughed and stuck out her tongue. She was about to shut the door of her car when Georgia called out. “Hey, does that bakery sell cupcakes? I thought I might pick some up for Amelia’s birthday.”
“What, you’re not gonna make her cake this year?”
“Ha ha, very funny, hooker.”
Georgia had made a three-tiered cake, covered in pale green fondant the year before. It was supposed to look like a stack of presents, but came out looking more like a pastel volcano for a fifth grade science fair. After Amelia burst into tears, Georgia had dumped it in the trash and hauled ass to the Food Mart for a plain sheet cake.
She could laugh about it now.
Lucy smiled. “I’m sure it was ten times better than what I could have done. If it has casserole in the title I can do it, but I can’t bake for shit.”
“Brett didn’t marry you for your cooking.”
“Hell no he didn’t.” Lucy wiggled her eye brows.
“Cupcakes. Si or no?” Georgia asked, cocking her hip to one side.
“Yes, they have cupcakes, in every flavor. Worth the drive for sure.”
“Thanks. Love ya.”
“De nada, and what’s not to love?
***
“What are we doing here again?” Georgia asked in a harsh whisper.
“It’s called socializing and getting you out of your comfort zone, which is on your couch reading,” Lucy answered.
“Oh yes, this is really walking on the wild side. Word on the street is scrapbooking’s the new jaywalking…speaking of reading, you told me this was a book club.” Lucy’s only response was a cheeky, sorry not sorry, smile.
Georgia shuffled through the pictures she brought for about the tenth time, still no closer to figuring out what the hell she was supposed to do with them. The other ladies were laughing and stamping things, putting decorative paper down on top of paper seemed stupid to her, but she was doing her best to act interested. The looks Lucy was throwing her way told her that she was failing miserably.
“G, at least try to smile. I have to live by these people.”
“I am smiling.” She pulled her lips back into what she hoped was a sincere smile. Again the look from Lucy told her otherwise.
“Sorry, I’ll try harder. You know how I hate crafts and this is like the mothership of crafts. The only thing I’ve managed to glue is the skin on my freaking fingers.”
Lucy chuckled and handed Georgia her double sided tape. “Here try this.” Georgia nodded her thanks and attempted to take part in the conversations going on around the table.
“I told Megan that if she doesn’t make the squad this year, she might as well pack her bags. No daughter of mine is gonna sit on the bleachers on Friday nights,” said a woman Georgia didn’t know, but she knew enough to never want to see her again.
“Does she even like it?” asked Jan Montez, who was sitting across from said woman, whose eye makeup was so thick Georgia wanted to carve her initials on her lids.
“Thousands of dollars on private coaches says she does. You’re either on the football field playin’, or cheerin’ beside it, and that’s that. ”
“Mel, those other moms are so mean,” said a girl whose name may or may not start with a B.
Georgia sucked with names. Especially those she knew she’d never see again in a social setting. Yes, scrapbooking was going to be a one time gig. She’d let Amelia use all the overpriced paper Lucy made her buy, for origami or something.
“It is hard to tell if they like you or not. Their nice to your face, but tear you to shreds as soon as you walk away. They’re…”
“Duplicitous,” Georgia offered, garnering strange looks.
Lucy leaned in and whispered, “Easy, your brain is showing.”
Georgia shrugged, returning her attention to her pictures, which she shuffled around the page. She still had no idea what she was doing.
“I was gonna say backstabbing bitches, but okay,” Mel, the one with the eye makeup, snipped. She continued to go on about the merits of the cutthroat tryouts and daily weigh-ins. Georgia really wished the iced tea was spiked.
“Can we leave yet?” Georgia said out of the side of her mouth. She was perfecting her ventriloquist skills with every passing second.
“Thirty more minutes, okay?” Lucy was getting pretty good, too.
If she had to suffer through thirty more minutes she was going to do it in the kitchen, where there was spinach dip and baked goods.
Georgia turned her key in the ignition and turned her head. “Lucy, I swear if you try to drag me to your quilting circle next, I’m gonna find a new best friend.”
“They serve wine…”
Georgia twisted her lips in consideration.
Wine….But there’d be quilting involved.
“Nah. I can drink wine at home, without accidentally sewing a cloth square to my crotch.”
“Good point.”
“I wish we liked to binge drink, then we could just hang out at the Rusty Nail with the rest of our age demographic.”
“We don’t have to drink…ha, I could barely get that out with a straight face.”
Georgia laughed. “I know, right? I’d have to be hammered to use those bathrooms. Can you get hepatitis from a toilet seat?”
“No, but I bet you could get something that would make your snatch itch something fierce.”
“You are foul.”
“But you love me,” Lucy sang.
“What’s not to love?”
“Thanks.”
The hall was dark and the house quiet when she got home. The girls were fast asleep and everything was locked down for the night. There was a dim light coming from the master bedroom and she was glad to see it. That meant Nate was awake. The tile beneath her feet was cold and the the relief from the soft pale carpet of her bedroom was immediate.
“Whatcha reading?” She leaned against the door frame and smiled.
Nate lowered his iPad, nudging the dark rimmed glasses that were perched on the bridge of his nose. Index finger, he always used his left index finger.
She wasn’t sure why she noticed things like that. He used glasses for reading at night, normally he wore contacts. She preferred the glasses, they made him look like a sexy professor.
“Hey, baby. Have fun?” Georgia cocked one eyebrow. He laughed. “That much, huh…I was just looking for places to get some new paint. I’m out of white. Normally I can mix to get the right shades, but with white you’re screwed.”
“How’s your new masterpiece coming along?” she asked, tucking one leg under her as she sat on the edge of the bed.
“Good, good. Should be finished in time.
If
I can get the paint at the depot tomorrow.” He’d been working tirelessly on a surprise painting for Amelia’s birthday. Nate’s parents had a stunning new white mare Amelia had fallen in love with pretty much the second she laid eyes on her. That, along with long work hours, was the reason she hadn’t seen her husband all week.
“So, I guess I have the lack of white paint to thank for your company tonight.” She rolled close to him, propping her head on one hand. “I feel like I haven’t seen you all week.”
He kissed her forehead. “I know, I know. I’m sorry about that. We’ve been swamped at the shop and I’m trying my damnedest to get this painting finished.”
Georgia wanted to ask why he was going on a hunting trip if he was so pressed for time. It was on the tip of her tongue, but not tonight. She didn’t want to spend what little time they had nagging at him. It did hurt, though, that he’d go to his shed and paint as soon as the girls went to sleep and well into the night. Sacrificing time with her rather than skip his guy trip.
Let it go. It’s for Amelia. He’s here tonight, so enjoy it.
“Well, I can’t wait to see it.” She sighed and ran her hands up his stomach. How he stayed so fit eating biscuits smothered in cream gravy at the diner four times a week was anyone’s guess. He did work with his hands all day. She pictured his tight shirt clinging to his body as he lifted a tire above his head. The muscles in his arms bulging and sweaty. She’d never seen him do this in real life, but in her mind he did.