The Sweetheart Sham

by Danielle Ellison

  “I’ve been texting you.”

  “My phone is off.”

  Will crosses his arms. “Are you okay?”

  I chuckle. That’s a loaded question. “I am a lot of things.” I don’t think okay is one of them.

  “Georgie,” he starts.

  I close my eyes. “Look, the last thing I want to do right now is talk.”

  “Even to me?”

  “Especially to you.” As soon as it comes out of my mouth, I wish I could swallow the words. Will’s face contorts into sadness. I sit up. “I didn’t mean that.”

  “Yes, you did,” he says. Will tosses his hands in the air. “Come on then.”

  “What?”

  “Tell me why you’re mad at me.”

  “I’m not,” I say.

  “Be honest, Georgie. For once just tell me everything.”

  I toss the blankets off. “What does that mean?”

  “I’m not the only one keeping secrets.”

  I snort. Screw him. I’ve done everything for him this summer, and he doesn’t even appreciate it. Not if he’s saying this to me. “All of my secrets are yours. Everything wrong with my life right now is your fault!”

  “That’s brilliant!” he shouts back.

  I move so I’m only a few inches away from his face. He wants me to be honest, I’m going to be honest. “I’m your best friend. It’s supposed to be you and me against the world. Peanut butter and jelly, but then you find one boy and you turn on me. You used me. You saw me sitting here and thought I was an opportunity. You decided we should pretend to be together, to lie to everyone.”

  Will isn’t one to take it lying down, so he gets back in my face too. “I used you? How is that? I told you that you could get out of it anytime you wanted, and I asked you if you wanted to end it.”

  We never fight, ever, but this time I don’t care about his feelings. “Oh, what? And be the girl who broke up the dream couple?”

  Will tosses his hands in the air. “I asked if you liked Beau and you said no. You lied to me. If you had trusted me two years ago, if you had ever told me about you and Beau, then this wouldn’t have happened!”

  I don’t feel anything. I can’t. I know he’s right. I should’ve been honest with him about my past with Beau. Back then, it hurt too much too talk about, to admit. I was angry. By the time I wasn’t, it was long over and other things were going on. I thought it didn’t matter. “What would you have done?”

  “I would’ve ended it so you could be together.” His voice is so sincere that I have to believe him, even though it’s all too late now. It’s too late for both of us.

  I shake my head. “Well, Beau is gone. I betrayed him, we both did, and he’s never going to forgive me for that.”

  “Then he doesn’t deserve you.”

  “And Mystery Boy deserves you?” I start. “He won’t even see you in town. That’s someone you want to be with?”

  Will is squeezing his hands into fists, something he only does when he’s really mad. “It was both of our choices—and you don’t even know his situation so you can’t judge it.”

  “You’re right. I don’t know him. All this talk about trust and friendship, and you’re still keeping the biggest secret from me,” I say.

  “It’s not my secret to tell.”

  I’ve said that how many times? More than I can count.

  “It sucks to carry around someone’s else secret when you didn’t even ask for it,” I say.

  Silence. The room is silent. I hear it how he does. I crossed a line, and I see that on his face as his mouth and forehead and eyebrows all furrow into frustration. It wasn’t what I meant, but it’s how he heard the words. It’s how I said them.

  “I’m sorry I was such a burden.”

  Will starts off toward the bedroom door, and I can’t say anything else. If I could I would scoop up the words and shove them back in my big mouth, but I can’t. Right now, I don’t even know if I can apologize, since I kinda meant it.

  “That’s it, then?”

  He shrugs and heads down the stairs. I follow after him. “Go then. Do the Montgomery thing, run away and hide.”

  I don’t actually want him to leave. But also I do. I don’t know what I want.

  “I’m not running away or hiding. I’m right here, Georgie.”

  “Hiding is all you’ve been doing for two years.”

  Will squares his jaw, eyes blazing. “And what do you call what you’ve been doing?”

  I hear him walk across the foyer and then the door slams behind him.

  …

  I stare at my phone later that night. My last texts from Will were before he came over, before he brought the milkshake. I want to text him, but what is there to say? He has this whole secret life without me. He doesn’t need me anyway.

  Chapter Twenty

  Beau

  On Thursday morning, Ma makes French toast. Today she’s sitting at the table, coffee in hand, and a big pile of French toast on a plate for me.

  “Morning,” she says.

  “Morning,” I respond, slumping down into a chair. “Smells good.” Ma sips her coffee but doesn’t respond. I pour on syrup so that it covers each slice in the pile; it creates a bowl of syrup on the plate beside the bread. My mouth is watering, but there’s no fork. I look at Ma.

  “What?” she asks. Ma gives me a side glance.

  I get up toward the sink and open the drawer. No silverware at all. “Ma, where’s all the utensils?”

  “I put them away.”

  I look back at her. It’s too early for this. “What?”

  She shrugs. “You don’t need one do you? I figured if you can go do whatever you want, whenever you want with no warning or explanation, so can I.”

  I cross my arms.

  “I don’t need a fork. I can eat with my hands.”

  Ma sets down her coffee cup and takes my plate. The pocket of syrup spills out on the table. “Sit down.”

  “Is this what you do now, Ma? Lure me to my death with food?”

  I figure that will get a crack of a smile, but it doesn’t. Yeah, I’m in trouble. I sit like she said. She holds a fork up in the air like a prize. “Why are you here?”

  “Can’t a son miss his mom?”

  She doesn’t blink at my answer. I watch her use a fork to cut my French toast. Damn. She knows that’s my favorite. Ma takes a bite.

  “I see how it is,” I say, crossing my arms. I can’t believe I got out of bed for this. I glance around the kitchen and there’s no more food sitting here. If she eats it all, it’s gone.

  Ma doesn’t flinch. “What happened to make you show up in the middle of the night?”

  I tap my fingers in the little squares on the flannel tablecloth. “It sucks, okay? I thought it was where I wanted to be, but it’s not.”

  “And Atlanta is?”

  “Yes,” I say.

  She cuts into my French toast again.

  “Fine. Fine. No, but I don’t want to be there, either. Can I have the fork now?”

  Ma looks at me and then passes it over. I reach for the plate. She slaps my hand away.

  “You asked for the fork,” she says. “What happened? Your dad has called here every day. Orry’s called. Will’s called. Apparently, your phone is off.”

  I sigh. “If I tell you, then will you let me have my food?”

  “That’s generally how this works,” she says.

  I sigh and set the fork on the table. “What do you want to know? My phone is off because I don’t want to talk to anyone. I need some space.”

  “Fair,” she says. “The wedding is in two weeks.”

  “I know.”

  “Are you going back?”

  I shrug.

  Ma folds her arms in front of her. “What did you need space from?”

  She’s not going to let go until she knows everything. I can tell her and eat and stop talking about it. Or I can make my own breakfast. “Everyone. Dad. Will. Georgia Ann.”

/>   “Things with your dad aren’t going well?”

  “No,” I start. I think about Dad. He’s been there, trying to do things with me, talking with me. “It’s actually been okay. Not great, but we’re trying, like you said. We can stand in the same room at the same time and everything.”

  “Good. Then what is it?”

  I shift in the chair and my leg bounces. I pick up the fork. Set it down. Ma is watching me expectantly. “Aunt Sissy showed up.” Ma stiffens a little. “Dad told me what she did.”

  “I see. So you left?”

  I shake my head. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Ma places the plate back in front of me. “It wasn’t so easy. I know you might think it was, but she’s your aunt. I don’t want and never have wanted you to hate your family.”

  Ma always said we could tell each other anything. I know parents say that, but all we have is each other. It’s supposed to be different. “I just thought we trusted each other.”

  She reaches out and places her hand on my forearm. Ma’s forehead has a worry crease in it. “Being a parent is the hardest job there is,” Ma says. “I have to know when to treat you like my son and when to treat you like a man. I’m not going to be perfect. Two years ago, I didn’t think you’d be able to handle that, and since you’re sitting here in my kitchen instead of in Culler, maybe I wasn’t wrong.” Ma raises her eyebrow.

  “Touché.” I put my fork down.

  “It’s not a match, and it’s not about trust,” she says. Ma gives me a half smile and a shrug. “It’s life, and pretty soon you’re going to be in the thick of it. I won’t be able to help you anymore once you’re out there.” Her eyes get misty. “But right now there are some things I can do within my power to make sure you’re safe and loved. I’m going to do them, even if you don’t like them, or you want something different. Does that make sense?”

  I nod. “It does.” I finally take a bite of the delicious, now soggy, French toast.

  Ma moves her hand and leans back in her seat. “Your aunt isn’t a reason you should leave home.”

  “It wasn’t only Sissy,” I say. I twist the fork around in the syrup. It makes three prong prints then they disappear. “There were other things.”

  Ma keeps her eyes on me. “Yeah, Madison told me Will and Georgie are dating. I imagine that was one of them.”

  I drop the fork. “No.”

  Ma laughs at me. “You did marry the girl when you were four. Plus, you used to follow her around like a puppy dog. Those blonde curls and those blue eyes, she was hard to resist, even as a toddler.”

  “Stop it.”

  “I’m just saying,” Ma says, sipping her coffee. I stuff another bite into my mouth.

  “Yeah, well. Before we left, we had a thing.”

  “A thing?”

  I shrug. “Yeah.” Ma gives me that disbelieving look. “Not like that,” I scoff, and she relaxes. “I cared about her, and we kind of left it all unresolved when we moved, but there was still something.”

  “Sounds complicated.”

  “Yeah, and it turns out that whole her and Will thing? Not real. They were lying to everyone.”

  “Why are they doing that?”

  I shrug. “I can’t tell you. But it’s just another lie. I don’t know, I just felt suffocated by all of it, and that town is so small, so full of secrets. I wanted out.”

  Ma is quiet for a long time, long enough for me to eat the whole plate. My mind is in Culler, on Georgia Ann and Will, and my aunt. On the carnival, the wedding, the stationery shop that doesn’t exist anymore. Funny how something can fade away without a trace. One day, there won’t even be people who remember the place.

  When I’m done, Mom sighs. “Your dad was a great man, Beau. He still is, I think, in there.”

  “He seems lost to me.”

  “He probably is. You can call him a lot of things, Lord knows I have been forgiven for doing that. But what he did? It’s called a mistake. Not the cheating, that was wrong, but the way he handled it. Secrets are dangerous. They lead to lying. Sometimes then you tell one and then another one to cover up the first one, and before you know it, you’ve lost control.”

  Ma shakes her head. Her fingers lace the handle of her mug. Mistakes happen when you don’t mean to do it. Lies are a choice. I start to say this to her, but she puts a finger up at me.

  “Now I’m not comparing what Sissy did or Georgie and Will lying to what your father did. Y’all will have to sort that. All I’m saying is you can be a good person and mess up. Even good people do that.” She takes my hand. “Maybe the fault here is assuming the worst in them, but the three of y’all? You’ve been friends your whole lives and you can work it out. If you love someone, that’s what you do.”

  “That didn’t work for you and Dad,” I say.

  “Sometimes it’s not enough,” she says. “But other times, it is. You’ll never know if you run away from it.”

  Ma squeezes my hand, and when she does, I imagine a ring on her hand. “Can I see it?” I ask.

  Ma nods her head and moves into the living room. A second later she’s back with a little velvet box. I open it and look at the ring. It’s a big one. Not so big it looks out of place. Not too small you don’t see it. It’s got a nice shape and a sparkle. It’s very Ma. “It’s pretty.”

  “It is.”

  “Did you tell him yes?”

  She shakes her head. “I haven’t said anything yet.”

  “You’re waiting for me?”

  “I am.”

  I want to tell her she can. I want to give her my blessing, but the words get stuck in my throat.

  Ma kisses my cheek. “You’re gonna be okay, son.” I smile. It’s such a mom thing to say.

  …

  After a full day of basketball with some of the guys, I turn my phone back on. Texts flood in from Will asking if I’m okay, asking why I left, saying he’s sorry. From Drew asking when I’m coming back. A few from Dad checking in, telling me to text him. One from Jake asking why I skipped town and didn’t take him with me. One from Georgia Ann.

  It’s never been nothing.

  I don’t know when she sent it, but it burrows into my chest. I’m an idiot. She thinks I left because of her again, and I didn’t. Not really. I left because of me.

  I read everyone’s texts. I listen to the voicemail from Dad apologizing for whatever he might have done, telling me I’m welcome to come back anytime I want. Georgia Ann’s sticks with me most.

  It’s never been nothing to me, either.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Georgie

  Lyla is sitting on the edge of my bed and she brought cookies. I haven’t left this bed since Will walked out. Momma hasn’t entered my room since I yelled at her to leave me alone. Daddy tried, he at least knocked on the door, but even he didn’t cross the threshold. Lyla is the only one who’s been brave enough, bless her.

  “You’ve got to come out of this room eventually. It’s been almost a week.”

  “Why? Will hates me.”

  “He doesn’t.”

  He does. I take a bite of a pity cookie. Chocolate chip with coconut. “I was a bad friend.”

  “You were upset. Will’s going to understand and forgive you.”

  Lyla is innocent and nice. She’s happy today, put together, her hair falling in perfect natural curls down her back. “You don’t know the whole story,” I whisper. “I know I hate me.”

  “For what it’s worth, he looks miserable, too.”

  “He does?” I ask, and Lyla nods.

  “I saw him out with his brother in sweatpants,” she says. I crinkle my nose. Will doesn’t wear sweatpants in town. “You think you look bad? He’s worse.”

  I hadn’t thought I looked bad, because I hadn’t seen myself in days. I reach for one of her cookies and think about everything I said to him. I was wrong on so many levels. I didn’t even mean half of what I said.

  “You and Will are going to be fine, if you want my opi
nion.”

  “I have to make it up to him,” I say.

  “Then do it. If there’s one thing my pop always tells me, it’s that you have to find what you want, and go after it. Whatever that thing is, it won’t be handed to you.”

  “Your dad sounds like a smart man.”

  “He is,” she says with a smile. “For what it’s worth, I think you and Beau will be okay, too.”

  “He’s not even here,” I say.

  “This is home, right? I don’t know him that well, but you can’t stay away from home, especially when your history is here,” she says. I give her a strange look because what is she talking about? “I never said anything, but I saw you and Beau once at the old creek. My brothers and I go there to swim sometimes, and y’all were making out on the old rock. It was right after we moved here that summer. I didn’t really know you yet.”

  “That’s embarrassing,” I mutter. It also explains why she picked up on something between us. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  Lyla shrugs. “I figured when you wanted to talk about it, you would. It’s not really my business.”

  “I made a mess of this,” I say, covering my face with the pillow. “I thought I could handle Beau being around and pretend it was all in check.”

  “So you messed up. It’s nice to know you’re not perfect.”

  I toss the pillow off. “Of course I’m not. I’ve never said I was.”

  “I know, but as much as Will is the Golden Boy, you’re the Golden Girl.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  She gives me a look. “You so are. Everyone in this town loves you.”

  “I didn’t ask for that.”

  “Neither did Will,” she says. “None of us really ask for the role we’re given in Culler.” She wipes her hands together, cookie crumbs joining the other crumbs on my floor. “So what you going to do about it? Stay here, cry some more and eat cookies, or go out there and make what you want happen?”

  Lyla raises her eyebrows toward me, waiting for an answer.

  “Get up, I reckon.”

  “Now, that’s the girl I know. Do it, but maybe shower first,” she adds with the nicest smile ever. I toss the pillow at her.