The Sweetheart Sham

by Danielle Ellison

  My phone dings with a text, and Will’s does, too. “Georgie,” he says. It sparks something inside me that I can’t quite place. I don’t want to think about it right now.

  “We better get down there before Granddad comes after us,” Drew says.

  He’s right. “Yeah, come on,” I say to Will.

  We may not like her, but Granddad doesn’t stand for disrespecting your kin. He said once, “Family is forever, like ’em or not, so you gotta take that sour tart and suck on it.” Best I can take it to mean is that you’re stuck with them.

  Downstairs, Granddad is hugging Sissy and Rena. Uncle Ben and Aunt Madison are waiting for their turns. Dad is tucked into the back of the room, arms crossed.

  Sissy turns to Drew before we’re even down the stairs. “Look at the groom,” she says. “It’s a wonder you landed such a bride. I look forward to meeting her.”

  I raise my eyebrow toward Will. Was that a compliment or an insult?

  Drew chuckles. “I think so too, Auntie.”

  “And Beau,” she says, coming in to hug me. “It’s nice to see you after all this time away. I thought you might never come back to us.”

  I hear Dad make a noise in the back of the room, and Granddad shoots him a warning look.

  “Yeah, I’m glad to be here,” I say.

  She focuses in on Will next. It’s a long second of staring before she splashes on a smile. “I hear from Daddy you snagged yourself an ever-elusive Monroe.”

  “I did, ma’am,” he starts, his voice a little shaky.

  Aunt Sissy rests her hand on her chest. “Hang on tight, Willford; they tend to go wild when spooked.”

  Will and I exchange a look. I have no idea what she’s talking about.

  Granddad clears his throat. “Boys, go get their luggage and bring it in for ’em.”

  “Yes, sir,” Will says, leading the way to the outside.

  Once the door closes behind us, Drew says, “Three weeks, then she’ll be gone.”

  “It can’t come fast enough,” I add.

  But then I realize that in three weeks I’ll be gone, too.

  …

  You still on for the teacup ride?

  I stare at Georgia Ann’s text for a moment. She’s been texting me and Will all morning, but this is her first solo text to me.

  I am

  Good :)

  Three dots are there then disappear again. I see Will headed toward the front door. “You okay?” he asks. “You have a weird look on your face.”

  “Yeah,” I start. I want to ask him again what it means for Georgia Ann, but everyone is in the room. I can’t ask him anything with them around. I’ll ask him later. He said one person knows. It has to be her, right?

  “I’m going to head to the carnival. You ready?”

  “I’ll meet you there later.”

  Will nods. “Okay.” The door opens and closes behind him.

  Granddad and Aunt Madison are listening to Sissy and Rena talk about something. They both look bored, but Sissy doesn’t seem to care. Drew is texting. Dad and Uncle Ben aren’t in here. They have the right idea.

  What would life be like if I lived here all the time? I know it’s only this last year of school, but it could be a good thing. Will is gay. Maybe that means something good for me and Georgia Ann. Plus, what if he needs me? I said I’d support him and that’d be a lot easier to do if I was here all the time. I leave in three weeks, and I think I don’t want to.

  I head toward the study.

  I’m not really sure what’s drawing me there. The possibility of being here long term, of something good being mine. The way Will was talking, it seems like he might know something about Georgia Ann and me. Since he’s not really into her, would he be okay with us pursuing something?

  This could be a good place for me even beyond Georgia Ann.

  I stop outside the study when I hear a glass shatter.

  “The way she said that to him was meant as a stab at me,” Dad says.

  “Sissy has always used weapons as words. You know that,” Uncle Ben tells him.

  The door is slightly open and I pause there. I should turn away; this isn’t my conversation. But why is Dad so angry?

  “She’s only here to push buttons,” Dad says, his voice heavy. I’ve never heard him like this.

  “Hank, you’ve got to calm down. If she sees she’s getting a rise out of you, then she won’t stop the whole time she’s here,” Uncle Ben says. I can’t see their faces, only their backs.

  Dad makes a grunt noise. “I don’t understand the way Dad dotes on her. He knows what she did, and everyone just turned a blind eye.”

  I can see Uncle Ben’s face now from where they are walking around the room. I listen, unease bubbling in my stomach.

  “She told the truth, Hank.”

  “It wasn’t her truth to tell!” Dad yells.

  Uncle Ben reaches out his hand, maybe on Dad’s shoulder. I can’t entirely see. “We can’t live in the past.”

  “She ruined my marriage,” Dad says.

  My phone rings. Uncle Ben and Dad turn to look toward the door, as I shuffle my phone out of my pocket. It’s Ma, but I ignore it for the first time in my whole life. Uncle Ben opens the door on me; I’m staring up at him, phone in hand. I expect someone to say something to me. Yell at me for eavesdropping. No one does. Instead, Uncle Ben turns to Dad.

  “I’ll leave you two.”

  Dad and I are quiet long after Uncle Hank leaves the room. It feels like time froze us there and moved on without us. I don’t really know what to do or what’s going on. I want to. It feels important somehow.

  “What was that about?” I ask.

  Dad sighs, his tension releasing then refilling. “How much did you hear?”

  “Enough,” I say.

  He takes a seat on one of the old brown leather couches that used to be in our house. There’s still a tear on the arm from the claw of my Wolverine action figure when I was seven. He was in an epic battle against Magneto and lost control. The couch bears the scars.

  Dad stiffens. “Your aunt pushes my buttons, all of ours, sometimes.”

  He’s got his kid gloves on. He has that “I can’t tell you” face. It doesn’t matter if you’re seventeen or seven, parents never see you as an equal. I can tell he’s not going to say anything else, so I push.

  “You told Uncle Ben she broke up your marriage.” Dad scrubs a hand down his neck. I don’t know much about the end of their marriage. Ma didn’t tell me. I never really pushed her to know, either. For years it’s been a question mark. I knew Dad cheated, and it was enough to know, but it’s only a piece of the story.

  “Come on, Dad.”

  “She d-did,” Dad stutters. “I mean, I did that. I’m the one who cheated on Kerri, but Sissy was the one who made sure she found out. I was going to tell her, but I didn’t get the chance.”

  “Why would she do that?” I nearly shout it.

  Dad looks tired when he sits down next to me on the couch. “Your aunt is a complicated person. She has been since we were all kids. Some people aren’t happy, and they don’t let others be happy, either. It hurt your mom, son, that’s what I can tell you. The way she did it all was ugly and nonsense.” Dad looks at me. “She was trying to prove a point, and she did it.”

  “What was that point?”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Dad shrugs. “I need to let it go. Ben is right. The past is in the past, but every day that passes, every day I wake up and you and your mom aren’t here, I know how much I screwed up.”

  We’re silent again, everything processing in my head. Aunt Sissy told Ma about Dad’s affair. I don’t get why she’d do that. Even more, why did no one tell me?

  Dad turns to me again. “I’ll tell you one thing, though. If I could do it all over, I would’ve told Kerri Ann myself and sooner. The betrayal hurt her, but finding out from someone else, proving I was a coward, that was worse.”

  I nod along slowly, letting all of it sink i
n.

  Dad shakes his head, getting up. He’s never been good at sitting still for too long. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have let her get to me that way.”

  He says it like it’s nothing, but anger is bubbling up inside me. Today has been an overload of secrets. My parents have not told me the truth about anything, until it’s too late, too over.

  Dad puts a hand on my shoulder. “I reckon your ma didn’t tell you because she didn’t want you to know the ugliness in people.”

  That doesn’t make up for it. I live in this world; I see it every day. It almost feels like all this shit happened before, and they only gave me pieces of the story. I want the whole picture. Ma didn’t tell me about Dad until it was too late. Not about Sissy or Mrs. J being sick.

  “I just hate things being kept from me, over and over again, and it being called love.” My voice comes out rough, and Dad gives me a look. Can he see how pissed I am right now?

  “Look, Beau, I know you’re still angry with me. I’m still angry with myself, trust me.” Dad sits again, this time on the arm of the couch. “Like I said, we all have ugliness inside, shame, fear. I lied and it destroyed our life. I should’ve been honest, but I was a coward. If I had told her, it would’ve spared a lot of pain for a lot of people.”

  What else do I not know about?

  “I’m going to the carnival,” I say, moving up from the couch.

  My hands are in fists, and it’s all I can do to get out of the house and into my truck. I channel all my anger into kicking the tires. I slam the door a little too hard, and I sit there, trying to figure out what to do next.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Georgie

  Momma has been going on about Sissy Montgomery all afternoon. Lyla and I stand in the food line in front of her and Daddy, and she’s still going on about it. There are a bunch of games, but only four rides, so the lines are crazy long.

  Momma clicks her tongue. “Figures she’d be first here. Heaven forbid someone farts and she misses it.”

  “Jessamyn!” Daddy exclaims, but I can tell he’s amused. Momma so rarely loses her composure—and trust me, Momma saying “fart” is the definition of lost composure. (She’s a Southern Belle, after all.) Sissy Montgomery has a way with people.

  “It’s true, Samuel. She’s gotta have her nose in everyone’s business,” Momma says. Lyla is trying not to laugh as she takes a sip of her soda. “I reckon it’s a good thing Kerri isn’t here yet, then. I don’t know how Madison is gonna handle that woman for three whole weeks.”

  “‘That woman’ is her sister-in-law,” Daddy says. He slides his hand in Momma’s. “She’s been handling her a long time now.”

  “Exactly my point. Good Lord can take her any moment now.”

  “Jessa,” Daddy scolds and Momma waves him off.

  “I know, I know. I didn’t mean to say that. Forgive me,” Momma says, but I have a feeling she did mean it. Sissy Montgomery is maybe the only Montgomery people don’t genuinely like, especially Momma. I get it. She and Rena are both a thorn in the side, but Momma doesn’t have to interact with her.

  “Look,” Daddy says, pointing at the Ferris wheel. This is redirection at its finest. “Let’s go wait in line. We can make out at the top.”

  “Ew, Daddy,” I say.

  He shrugs at me. It is gross to think about my parents making out on top of the Ferris wheel, but I’m happy they are still so in love. And as long as they’re not doing it in my direct line of sight, I’m on board.

  “I’ll even win you a stuffed animal,” he adds.

  “What do I need with a stuffed animal?” Momma asks, eyes scanning around the game booths.

  “A cute little elephant,” he says, pointing across the town square.

  “We could buy one of those for the money you’d waste trying to win it,” Momma says.

  “Don’t ruin the romance, Jessamyn. Come on. These girls don’t want to hang out with us, anyway,” Daddy says. Momma blushes and complies and Daddy hands me a twenty before whisking her away.

  “They are cute,” Lyla says, passing me over a drink of our giant Sprite. Three people stand between us and the last, but most important, carnival essential food: an elephant ear. We already have funnel cake, cotton candy, and a candied apple, but the experience isn’t complete.

  “Too cute,” I say about my parents. I don’t want to talk or think about them on that Ferris wheel anymore. “I’m ready for an elephant ear.”

  “I don’t get how it’s different than funnel cake,” she says taking a bite of the white powder-covered goodness.

  I gasp. “They are so very different. I can’t believe you haven’t had one.” I take a piece of the cotton candy. “This was all the food, right?”

  “Mr. Urn has popcorn or corndogs, but I figured that was boring.”

  “Will is going to want a corndog, for sure,” I say. He eats like fourteen every year. Okay, not fourteen, but any more than one is wrong ’cause it takes up room in my stomach from where the sugar could be. I scan the town square keeping watch for him or Beau. Neither of them has texted me yet, and I don’t see either of them.

  “These are great choices. This is the best part of the festival,” I say.

  “I so agree,” Lyla says.

  I order an elephant ear with extra cinnamon sugar. Funnel cake is good, but this is the absolute best carnival food. Once we get it, I pass it to Lyla so she can have the first sacred piece.

  “Okay, that’s way better. You’re totally right.”

  “It really is,” I say. The others are around here somewhere and we’re all supposed to meet at the kissing booth, a.k.a. the gazebo, so we go that way while I tear off another piece for myself.

  “Oh!” Lyla exclaims. “Did I tell you that I’m going to tutor in the fall?”

  “No. That’s great!”

  She’s the hardest working girl in all of Culler High School, so I’m glad she’s getting something she wants. Though why that is to be a tutor, I don’t know.

  “Yeah, I got the letter last week. Mr. Cobb wants me to volunteer with our age, like classmates and such; then he said he’d get me set up for some paying gigs for the middle schoolers if I wanted. It’s going to be one more thing to help with college.” Lyla is practically glowing.

  She’s not like the rest of the Belles. She’s there for the scholarships, and the way it looks on a college application, and is, I believe, at her core more of what a Southern Belle should be. More than any of the rest of us anyway. We’re all there for tradition; Lyla is there because she’s genuinely good and sweet and smart.

  “You’re going to be a great tutor.”

  “Thanks,” she says.

  Lyla nods over my shoulder and Will is behind me with Spencer and Abby. Will hugs me as I search for Beau; there’s no sign of him.

  “Give me some,” Jake says, walking toward us and making a beeline for our food.

  I swat him away. “Get you own.”

  “Come on.”

  “Take the funnel cake,” I say.

  “Funnel cake sucks,” Jake says, but he takes a giant piece anyway and stuffs it in his mouth.

  Chris points to the bumper cars. “Who wants to ride those?”

  There are mostly middle schoolers in line for the cars, but somehow the whole group ends up over there anyway. Leave it to Jake and Chris, anything can happen. Beau texts me, I’m in line. My heart flutters.

  “What’s that?” Will asks.

  “Oh,” I say. “I’m going to go ride the teacups. You want any of this?”

  He takes the candy apple from our stash and smiles this devious look my way. “Have fun.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Why are you being weird?”

  “I’m not.” Will takes a giant bite of the candy apple.

  “You are,” I say.

  “Your face is weird.”

  I pause. Are we in first grade now? “See, that’s weird.”

  “Just go. I’ll find you later,” Will says, and he runs off towa
rd the bumper cars and the others.

  “Weirdo,” I shout back, but he’s already too far to hear me through the buzzers and whirs of machine rides.

  I walk over to the other side of the street where the teacups are. The line is long, but not as bad as the casino ride, or the merry-go-round. Sure enough, Beau is in line. He’s taller than almost everyone else so he’s easy to spot.

  “Hey,” I say. I expect him to smile at me, but he doesn’t. “You made it.”

  “Yeah,” he says.

  I straighten out my shirt so I have something to do with my free hand. “I saw that Sissy made it in.”

  “Yup.”

  We stand there awkwardly for a few seconds. He’s not acting very Beau-like, either. What’s wrong with these Montgomery boys tonight? “So, this place looks really nice. All the games seem fun. I already sampled the food trucks with Lyla.”

  “Elephant ears?”

  “Yup, we ate that already.”

  “Cool,” he says.

  He’s quiet again, and it’s darn annoying. I almost wish he hadn’t come if he was going to act like he didn’t want to be here.

  “Funny,” I say, crossing my arms.

  “What?”

  “You’re acting totally opposite of cool.”

  He gives me a look. “What?”

  Is he serious? “You didn’t have to come if you didn’t want to.”

  “I did want to.”

  “So then act like it.”

  “Sorry. I’m sorry it was a stressful day. My brain is kinda on overload. It’s not you. I want to be here with you,” he says.

  “You wanna talk about it?” I ask.

  He shakes his head no, but then he sighs. “Yeah, sure.”

  We get out of line and walk over to Main Street to the bench outside of Lou’s Diner and Ice Cream Parlor. From here, I can see the whole view of the town square and the carnival. The noises and music echo through town, and the lights from the rides bounce off the buildings and into the sky. It feels magical.

  “I found out something from Dad, and it’s just getting to me,” he says. He moves from the seat and paces around the sidewalk. “I’m so sick of being lied to. Over and over.”