“Hello,” I say as Mama starts walking my way.
“Hey, birthday girl.”
My whole body lights up, and I swallow, worried Mama can tell who it is before she even asks.
“It’s Shawn Phillips,” I tell her. This time her face lights up, because Shawn Phillips is a Phillips, and the Phillips are very wealthy in our small town. She pats my arm and walks on by.
“Who the hell is Shawn Phillips?” Travis says on the other end.
“No one important,” I reply. “How are you?”
“Good. I’m trying to get back up there soon.”
“It’s been so long,” I say, stretching the cord as far as it will go so I can talk in the laundry room. I climb on top of the washer and cross my legs.
“I know. Tell me how life is,” he says.
“It sucks without you.”
“I feel the same.”
We talk for a good hour before we reluctantly let each other go. I don’t hear from him again until the new year, and after that, nothing.
_____
March 1975
I’ve had a few drinks on a date I really don’t care about as the band plays.
_____
“Wait a minute. You were in a bar drinking? You weren’t old enough,” Cynthia says.
“But remember this was back in the seventies.” I smile. “If you were eighteen, you could drink.”
“Ah. Okay. Go on.”
____
March 1975
My friend Sam is swaying to the music, and I turn to my date.
“I’m going to run to the bathroom.” He nods, and I get off the tall stool and make my way to the back hall, walking by the cutest boy. My mouth speaks before my brain thinks, and I find myself saying, “Whoa.”
He grins at me.
I open the bathroom door and walk in before I can do anything else stupid.
After I wash my hands and check my makeup, I walk back out and immediately see the guy standing against the wall.
“Hey,” he says, giving me that same cute smile.
“Hey,” I reply, moving out of the way so someone can go into the bathroom.
“You here with anybody?”
“Kinda on a date actually,” I say.
He nods and brings his drink to his lips. My eyes follow, and I catch myself smiling because, damn, this guy is cute.
“Is it not going well?” he asks.
I shrug.
“Wanna dance?”
“Why not?”
He pushes off the wall. “John,” he says as we walk to the dance floor.
“Charlotte,” I counter.
“Nice to meet you, Charlotte.”
“Likewise,” I say.
____
“You met someone else?” Maggie asks. “While you were on a date?”
“I did.” I laugh. “And he was a cutie,” I reply as we take a seat at the bar.
“My date was boring, and I don’t think he really cared anyway, so I danced with John and had a good time.”
“I just can’t believe Charlotte Harris did something like that,” Cynthia says.
“I had my moments.”
The bartender walks up to us. “What’ll you have?”
“I’ll take a margarita, this one will have a piña colada, and lavender girl will have a Miller Light,” Maggie says, handing the guy her debit card.
He grins. “Coming right up.”
We’ve made it to St. Augustine and grabbed a hotel room downtown, and then walked over to one of the local bars.
I look over at Cynthia. “Have you decided if you’re going to see Lit or not?” I ask.
She shrugs.
“This will be your thing,” Maggie says.
“What thing?” Cynthia replies.
“The thing you have to do that you’ve never done.”
“What? See Lit? I’ve seen him before, and I’ve already done my thing, remember? The fried green tomatoes?”
“I don’t think that should count,” Maggie says. “It wasn’t that big of a thing. You need to take a risk.”
“Maggie.” Cynthia sighs. “I really don’t want to.”
“How about this?” I say. “We call up Maggie’s friend who told us where Lit is. We can find out exactly where the boat is, and we can just go there and see. We don’t have to talk to him or let him know we are even there.”
“What do you think about that?” Maggie asks.
Cynthia looks down at the bar, and I see her chest fall. “I guess we could do that.”
“Great!” Maggie says.
“So, what’s going to be your thing?” Cynthia asks Maggie.
I look over at my friend as she focuses her eyes on the wall of license plates, her expression turning sober, and then she says, “I’m going to meet my granddaughter.”
Chapter Eighteen
I look over at Cynthia as she looks at me. “Your granddaughter?” I ask Maggie.
“Yes. I’ve never met her. My daughter and I didn’t have a good relationship when she was growing up. That was her and her father,” Maggie says solemnly. “We got into a huge argument after he passed away…” She rubs her fingers over her lips. “God, it was so long ago and over something so stupid,” she says as if she’s remembering it. “She moved away after that, and a few years later sent me a photo of her child. I was muleheaded and didn’t respond, but I’ve kept that photo in my nightstand, and meeting you two… Well, you’ve made me think about things. Diane lives in New York, so after we get back, I’m going to fly up and see her. That is, if she’ll have me.”
“We’ll go with you if you want,” Cynthia says.
“I think I’d like that,” Maggie replies. “We could do another road trip!”
“No scooter!” I quickly say before Cynthia throws it in. She laughs as the bartender sets our drinks down and asks Maggie if she wants to start a tab.
“Yes,” she says, not asking us.
“That’s settled,” I say. “We’re all going to take a risk.”
“To taking risks,” Cynthia says, putting her beer in the air.
We clink our glasses together, and in unison, we say, “To
taking risks.” And it’s at this moment I realize what Maggie meant when she said Cynthia was helping her find her happy also. It seems like we were meant to find each other. Sometimes the big man upstairs really makes you question things, but this time, it seems like He really knows what He’s doing.
____
My girls are tipsy. I’m on my second drink, but it’s watered down, so I’m pretty sure I won’t be finishing it.
“Tell me who this new guy is,” Cynthia says, resting her palm against her face.
“Well, John took me by surprise,” I tell them. “I never thought I’d love anyone besides Travis, but I’ve learned in this life you can love more than one person, just in two different ways. I saw him the weekend after we met, but then I got a surprise visit from none other than Travis Cole.”
____
March 1975
Spring flowers cover the fields as we ride together down old back roads. Lavender and pink as far as the eye can see. I’m with my guy, and he’s holding my hand like I may disappear if he lets go.
“You ever think about how it would be if we would have turned left the day we ran away?” he asks, looking over at me. The wind coming through the windows blows my hair across my face, and I tuck it behind my ear.
“All the time,” I respond.
“We could have gotten jobs and a little apartment somewhere. Had a blast until we got older and then have those babies you talked about.”
My lips lift, but the feeling in my chest doesn’t match and I turn my attention back to the road ahead of us. “That sounds nice,” I say, feeling melancholic.
“At least we have now,” he says.
“Yeah,” I agree. “At least we have now.” He brings my hand to his lips and kisses my knuckles.
We drive on with the breeze passing through the c
ar, talking about everything and anything, catching up on life, but I leave out the fact I’ve met John because honestly no one else matters when I’m with Travis. Once the sun starts to sink, we get restless, needing to feel each other skin to skin. We grab a room and get lost. The world floats away as Travis climbs on top of me. I undo my jeans and reach down to remove his belt. He kisses my lips, then he pulls his pants down to his thighs. My fingers run through his hair, and I force his jeans down with my feet. We melt, becoming one like we have many times before. His lips taste like beer and smoke, but I don’t care, and at the moment, beer and smoke are all I want as long as I’m with him.
We spend the night exploring every inch of each other. The only sounds in the room are whispers of I love you and be my forever. But when the sun comes up, he leaves me with a goodbye kiss and a sad smile.
____
“We didn’t speak for a while after that, and April came and went with me seeing John more and more. Falling for John was something I never intended on happening, but with his cute smile and his fun way of life it was inevitable, so when I was at work and Travis called with John sitting in the room with me, I didn’t know what to do.”
____
May 1975
“Who is that?” John asks me.
“It’s Travis,” I say, holding the phone away from my mouth. He gets a look that tells me he isn’t happy because he knows all about Travis Cole.
“What’s going on?” Travis asks.
“Umm, there’s someone here with me,” I reply to Travis.
“Is this someone a guy?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
John stands up because he obviously isn’t gonna deal with me being on the phone with the love of my life while he’s sitting there. I don’t blame him, but I can’t let him go either.
“John,” I say, stopping him. He turns to look at me.
“Charlotte, what the fuck is going on?” Travis says.
“Hold on a second.” I put the phone down and walk over to John. “Just give me one minute, okay?”
“You’re either going to be with me or be with him. You can’t have it both ways, and if it’s me, then you need to tell Travis you can’t talk to him anymore.”
“Okay,” I say. “I will.”
He sighs. “I’ll be outside.”
I exhale and look back at the phone. Picking it up, I hear Travis say, “Charlotte.”
“Hey,” I say.
He grows quiet for a moment, and then he says, “Are you two dating?”
“Kinda,” I reply.
He doesn’t respond, and I look out the window at John leaning against his car with his hands shoved into his front pockets.
“Is it serious?” he says.
“We’ve been seeing each other for a couple of months now.”
“So it is then,” he confirms. I bite my bottom lip and look down at the floor. “Do you not want me to call you anymore?” he asks. I look back out at John, and I feel my heart rip in two.
“Maybe not,” I reply.
“No, baby, you ain’t doing that. If you don’t want me to call you anymore, then you gotta say it.”
“Okay, don’t call me anymore.” But I’ll call you later.
The line grows quiet, and the silence is deafening, but then Travis says, “Okay.” I feel my brow furrow because I wasn’t expecting that. “Tell him he better make you happy. Do you hear me?” he says. “That’s all I ever wanted was for you to be happy.” I cover my lips with my hand, and a tear rolls down my cheek.
“I love you,” he says.
“I love you, too, Travis. I always will.”
____
“Oh my God,” Cynthia says after she takes a sip of her beer. “Did y’all talk later on that night?”
I shake my head and look in front of me. “No, Cynthia,” I say. “We didn’t speak again until thirty years later.”
“Thirty years?” Maggie spits out her drink, and the bartender looks over at us. “Sorry,” she tells him. “My friend just told me some bullshit.”
Cynthia giggles.
“Sadly, Maggie, it’s not bullshit.”
“What happened next?” Cynthia asks.
“John and I fell madly in love,” I reply.
____
January 1976
We sneak in the back room of Mama’s house, and I laugh when a drunk John trips over the chair and falls to the floor.
“Shh!” I say.
“Shh yourself,” he replies, pulling me down with him and kissing me senseless. He rolls over on top of me, and we do what we’ve been good at for almost a year now. He takes over my body and tells me he loves me. Our love is like the winds of a hurricane—fast, uncontrollable, and fierce.
I lift up and pull my shirt off while he leans back and undoes his jeans. We sink together, and after we’re finished, he looks over at me from the hardwood floor and says, “I don’t know how I ever lived without you.”
I caress the side of his face and kiss his lips. “Well, now you don’t have to.” He puts his arms around me and pulls me close, pressing his lips against my forehead. “Let’s get off this floor.”
We climb onto the bed and pull the comforter over us. I rest my head on his chest and listen to the slow rhythm of his heart. My eyes go over to the neon green numbers on the clock sitting on the nightstand. It’s almost two in the morning.
“Charlotte,” John says to me.
“Mmm hmm.”
“Did you have a good childhood?” he asks quietly. I feel my brow furrow at his question, and I find myself thinking back to old dirt roads and stray kittens. A small smile plays on my lips as I remember Mrs. Tilly who used to live down the road from us in Wayside. I loved that woman, and she loved me.
“I did,” I murmur. “There was an old black woman named Tilly who lived down the road from us. She made my childhood special. I’d pick her blackberries, and she’d make me blackberry jam. It’s still my favorite. I’d ride my bike to her house almost every day, and she’d say, ‘I was wonderin’ if you were comin’. I was just a thinkin’ to myself when’s that little girl gone come ridin’ up to my front porch?’” I smile at the memory. John doesn’t say anything, and I look up from his chest.
“What about you? How was your childhood?”
He moves a piece of hair behind my ear. His voice is rusty and thick like the words are caught in his throat as he says, “I didn’t have an easy life growing up.” For an extended moment, his eyes remain steady and unblinking as if his mind goes somewhere I’ve never been.
John’s expression holds a mixture of old emotions that he seems to have never recovered from. His eyes grow shiny, and he blinks, seeming to really be looking at me now instead of thinking about faraway painful memories. My heart breaks for the little boy he once was when he says, “My mama sexually abused me and hit me every time she felt like it.”
I grow insanely still as anger boils up inside of me. How could a mother do that to her child?
“She was a horrible person and did countless repulsive shit.” He looks down as his fingers begin to toy with the small chain around my neck. His body feels rigid underneath me, and there’s an uneasiness in his voice as if this is hard for him to talk about. I feel incredibly special that he is sharing this part of his life with me.
“Child Services got called several times, and eventually they took my brother and me and put us in a home.” He inhales a deep breath. “We didn’t stay there long. My grandmother got us out, and we went to live with her.”
“That’s good, right?” I ask soothingly as if I’m speaking to a small child.
He chuckles, and his voice turns harsh. “She only got us out because she needed us to work on her farm. Otherwise, she’d have left us in there.”
“Oh,” I reply. He looks past me, his mind presumably going somewhere else again, so I take his face in my hands and tell him, “John, that’s behind you. This is your life now. Here. With me. Do you understand?”
His blu
e eyes turn back to mine, and I see heartbreak and things no one can undo, but he nods. I kiss his lips and rest my head back on his chest. “I love you, John. We are all that matters now.” I feel him lean up and kiss the top of my hair, but neither of us falls asleep quickly.
____
“That is horrible,” Maggie says.
“Yeah.” I sigh and take a sip of my watered-down drink. The bartender wipes over the bar with a towel. I look around, noticing that the place is filling up and getting louder. “Our relationship continued to grow more,” I say, turning back to my drink. “And a year later, I found myself standing in Mama’s house with my family surrounding us as we promised to love each other for the rest of our lives.”
“You married him,” Maggie says.
“Yes, and we were married for twenty-nine years.”
“Twenty-nine years?” Cynthia says. “Wow, what about Travis?”
“Like I said, the day I told him not to call me anymore, he didn’t.”
“You didn’t try to call him?”
“I did a time or two, but I never got through to him.”
“Tell us more about your marriage. I mean, twenty-nine years, what happened with y’all?” Cynthia asks.
I sigh. “Our marriage was not an easy one, and over time I saw how John’s childhood affected his adult life. We had some good times and we had some bad times, and then we had some really, really bad times. But through it all, I loved him, and I wanted to make our marriage work. Sadly, John let drinking get the best of him for a while, and he got into some trouble with the law. Regardless, we knew we wanted children, but it took us years. I guess that’s why I never got pregnant while sleeping with Travis. It wasn’t as easy for me as it is for others. But once we finally did get pregnant and had our son William, John got sober and everything was great until William was about two or three. Then John got locked up for something stupid and left me at home alone with a baby.
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