“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.
On the downward stroke she continued until her hand grazed the gathered string at the waist of his pajama pants. Nate made a sound as he shifted towards her. That’s was all the signal he needed. They’d been together long enough to know when the other was offering.
The dance begins. Kisses, then hands. On her breast, and then her thighs. Clothes peeled. Knees fall to the side, Nate finding his place between them. The warmth of him inside her and the sweet friction it created. No words, just breath and sighs.
She grabbed the tight muscle of his backside and pressed her legs into his ribs. It was close—her end and his. Before she could finish he uttered a mumbled apology as he emptied inside her.
Sometimes she came with a scream, sometimes a whimper…sometimes not all.
“Sorry, baby. I just couldn’t hold back. Must be tired.”
“S’kay.”
What else could she say? You owe me one—get down there and finish me off…He probably would have if she asked, but the droop of his eyes reflected exhaustion. He’d make it up to her this weekend. Or at least when he got back. If he wasn’t too tired from his trip.
Then the walk to the bathroom, where they both cleaned up and brushed their teeth. Silent, but content.
Well, at least one of them was.
“Good night, baby.” He clicked off the light and rolled toward the wall.
“Night.”
She was staring at the ceiling as his soft snores filled the room.
When sleep did take her, she dreamed. People she knew, past and present, and some she’d never seen before. Images flashing. A feeling of frustration. She couldn’t get to class. She had to be there in five minutes, the enormous clock ticking loudly near the ceiling. She kept taking wrong turns, pulling knobs that wouldn’t budge. She finally made it, only to discover she didn’t have her books. She turned to the student beside her. It was Brady, her high school love. He was smiling, a weird close-mouthed smile. She kept asking him if he’d seen her backpack, but he said nothing. She started to yell, but he just smiled and nodded. She slapped his face in frustration, demanding he answer her.
The lights went out and everyone disappeared. She was alone and frightened as frost started to spread across the walls and ceiling. Her breath came out like smoke, her teeth began to chatter. Without moving she was in the hallway. It too, was dark and empty. The walls glistened with ice and the clock that tormented her had
stopped. Two large wooden doors loomed in the distance. Her feet didn’t move, yet she found herself suddenly outside. Her skin was pale as snow under the lone street light. Looking down at her body, she realized she had nothing on except for tiny cotton shorts with small koalas on them. It bothered her that she was almost naked. She knew she must be freezing, but not because she felt it. She knew because of the goose bumps and blue tinge of her fingers.
She dropped to her knees and cried. A dark wool blanket was draped over her shoulders and she had the thought that she’d been saved. She wasn’t alone and she wasn’t going to freeze to death. She turned to thank her savior, then stifled a scream. As if looking in a mirror, the blanket bearer had her face.
Georgia woke up with a start. The red glare of her clock told her she’d only been asleep for twenty minutes. She groaned and rolled to her side, frustrated that she was wide awake. Sometimes she really hated dreams.
~Chapter Eight~
The power line towers’ skeletal frames lined each side of the road. The grass, tall and yellow, waved in a strong wind. A gust caught Georgia’s long ponytail and it fluttered out the window—the weather was too divine to keep the windows rolled up. But as nice as the weather was, there was something about this time of year that made her antsy. The coming of spring made the blood hum with anticipation. Of what, she couldn’t say. Something in the air, maybe. She went with it, riding the natural high down the two lane highway that seemed to go on into infinity.
“Why Georgia” was playing on the radio. One hand was on the door, warmed by the sun, and the other tapping the slow beat on her steering wheel. Destination, the bakery in Clive. She just hoped the cupcakes would be as good as the muffins. The GPS on her phone was set, and the robotic voice let her know that she needed to continue twenty more miles until her exit. That made her smile even harder. She could handle that.
“Take exit 35B, on right. Then take left on Fifth Street.” The sound of the directions brought her back to reality. Georgia took her exit off of the highway. Her car slowly crossed over thick railroad tracks. She turned on her blinkers and waited for the dangling traffic light to turn green. There was an elderly man in a rocker in front of a dilapidated hardware store. He wore a faded red hat and worn overalls. The wind blew a newspaper in front of her car. That, and the choppy sway of the rocking chair, was the only movement.
Fifth Street was also empty and there was no sign of the bakery.
“Hey, Lucy. It’s me. I think I’m lost. I can’t find the bakery anywhere. Call me when you get this.” She threw her phone in the front seat and drove to the end of the block. She passed a small alley between an abandoned cafe and antique store. A bright red awning caught her attention.
“That has to be it…unless the old guy’s hiding muffins in his pockets.”
She pulled against the curb and parked. Once her canvas sneakers were on the sidewalk, she looked around once more. The deserted town gave her the creeps. It was like a scene from Children of the Corn. She put her purse across her body to free up her hands, just in case.
She got to the mouth of the dusty alley and walked with cautious steps. She wasn’t usually so timid, but she was feeling nervous. Now parallel with the awning, she faced a glass door, but the glass wasn’t clear, it was blacked out. Nothing that signified there was a bakery inside.
“These cupcakes better be freaking epic.”
The small bells dangling from a red string jingled as Georgia pushed the door open, cool air hitting her face.
“Good afternoon and welcome,” chirped a young girl with a dark pixie haircut and a nose ring. Georgia whispered a breathy thank you, placing her sunglasses on the top of her head. She took in her surroundings. Shelves lined with books and jars filled with God knows what. Prisms and dream catchers hung from a wood post running diagonal from the ceiling to wall. The smell of incense and a lemon scented candle burning near the register were strong, but not unpleasant. Harp music was playing from speakers attached to a black stereo. Did she hear water trickling?
What was this place? There sure weren’t any baked goods.
Well, maybe pot brownies.
The girl looked at her, then nods. “You’re here for Gwen.” It wasn’t a question.
“Uh, no, I just need directions. There’s supposed to be a bakery around here. I can’t seem to find…”
“Trust me, you need Gwen.” The girl cut her off with a smile and a wink. The bangles lining both wrists clanked as she closed the book she was reading.
“No, really I’m not…” But the girl was already at the back of the store, which was more cavernous than she’d first thought.
“Where the hell am I?” she said under her breath. New Age book store by the looks of it, not that she’d ever seen one in person. She followed the tiny girl, who had disappeared behind a thick purple velvet curtain. She hoped this Gwen person would be more forthcoming with the directions.
“Hello?” Georgia called as she pulled the curtain to the side. It wasn’t a storage room as she’d expected, but a sitting room of sorts. The only light came from a lamp in the corner of the room. Its shade was blood red with lines of colored beads hanging like a shimmery skirt. There was a table and thick tufted chairs in various shades and patterns.
A woman sat in one of these chairs. She had a full head of thick white hair, and smooth skin, despite her age. Full cheeks and bright clear eyes. She wore a black turtle neck and an ornate necklace of silver and large turquoise stones. The rest of her was shielded underneath the hefty table. If there’d been a crystal ball on the table, Georgia wouldn’t have been surprised.
“What do you want?” the woman said gently, motioning for Georgia to sit in the seat across from her. Georgia’s arms tingled at the sound of the woman’s voice. It was warm and rich. It made her think of a soft blanket and a roaring fire. When Georgia stood there, speechless, the woman smiled and repeated the question.
“What do you want?” she repeated. The question held a hint of an accent Georgia couldn’t place.
“Uh, directions.”
“That’s a good way of putting it. We all need direction in life.”
“No, I mean, I need directions. Literally…I’m lost.”
“Anyone can see that, my dear.”
Georgia let out a frustrated sigh and gripped the strap of her purse. “Look, I need directions to the bakery that’s supposed to be on this street. I need to pick up cupcakes for my daughter’s birthday and get back home in time to pick up my kids.”
She didn’t mean for it to come out as firm as it did, but her patience was waning with every passing minute. She’d be damned if she was going to be swindled out of money for this lady to read her palm, or whatever she did back here. They probably lured lost travelers back here to fleece them of their hard earned dollars. Georgia held her purse close to her body on instinct.
“Always running. Always for other people. What do you do for yourself?”
Despite her previous thought, Georgia found herself sitting in the chair across from this woman, whose name was Gwen, according to the girl up front. The girl who was now nowhere in sight. She felt herself wanting to answer, which was a surprise. She didn’t divulge things to people, especially strangers. But what was really upsetting was that she had no answer to give. Her lips quivered a bit.
Gwen tilted her head and waited.
“I’m not sure about that one. I enjoy reading. Uh, I like volunteering at the church.”
“Do you?”
“Read? Yes. Volunteer? No, I guess not…Honestly, I’m not really sure.” She felt tears filling her eyes.
“It’s okay, Georgia. You’re not the only woman in history who puts home and family in front of her own needs, and you won’t be the last. It’s in a mother’s nature to take care of those she loves.” Gwen handed her a tissue and she took it gratefully. “The key is to add yourself to the list of loved ones.”
As she wiped her eyes a thought came to her. “I never told you my name.�
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Her only reply was a warm smile. “What do you want?”
Georgia felt the words tumble forth without thought. “I would like to stop yearning for things that might have been, and just be grateful for the life I have. Be at peace with my life. Put the what if’s to bed for good.”
“Ah, Georgia, if I could only bottle contentment, I would be a very rich woman indeed.” Gwen steepled her hands in front of her face. “And contentment should not be confused with acceptance. There’s a difference. The key is to find a way to let go.”
Georgia’s brows crunched. She supposed contentment was as good a word as any. In fact, it was kind of perfect—to lose the notion that she wasn’t where she was supposed to be, or doing the things she was supposed to be doing. To just be. It sounded wonderful. But how to let go? It was easy for Gwen to say, but saying and actually achieving were two different things.
“I wouldn’t trade my kids for the world, that’s not what I’m saying.”
“Oh, I know, dear. A mother’s contentment, or lack there of, never lies with her children…it lies within.”
Georgia sniffed and the tears dried. “I don’t know what to do…and I don’t think playing tennis or joining a book club is gonna cut it.”
Gwen laughed softly. “No, no, I don’t think so either, but it would help…No, I think your problem is doubt. You feel like your path was chosen for you and that makes you feel like a prisoner within your own life. You feel as if you didn’t have control of your destiny, but what you need to realize is that your path was of your own making. That you have had a hand in everything that has transpired in your life, although they may not have been the events you would have preferred.”
This woman was making too much sense for her liking. It made her uncomfortable and she started to shift in her seat. It’s not that she blamed other people, Nate, Brady, her mom, or her religious convictions. She was resentful, of whom she wasn’t sure, but it was there, although she hid it well. Push it down, push it down. Deal with it later…or not at all.
The Space Between Page 6
