Chapter 18 Georgia
Georgia
I’m fairly certain I deserve an Oscar for my performance earlier, but I saw the way Junie looked at him. Complete adoration.
The same gaze was muscle memory of my own for the years he and I were an “us.” I’d never take that feeling away from my little
sister because she deserves the best, and even if it feels like it’s crushing every part of me from the inside out, I’ll let
her have this.
Now I’m lying in my bed—Junie’s guest bed—staring up at the ceiling in the dark. My body aches, exhaustion permeating every
nook and cranny of it. But my eyes haven’t sagged once.
A lot of what’s keeping me awake is Eddie. Well, Eddie and Junie together, most specifically. I have so many questions about
how and why she ever came across him. Not that I dictate what the grown woman can and cannot do, but if I were to run into a former boyfriend
of hers, I’d certainly mention it to her. What if she always had a thing for him?
I love her so much, but I hate this.
I hate the way this hurts.
Quiet, thick tears roll from my eyes like little marbles set free. One might imagine that with the love between us things would be simpler, easier.
I roll myself up to sitting and flip on the nightstand lamp. I shuffle out of bed, through the house, and out to the front
porch. I settle in a rocker and soak in the moonlight. The thick trees rustle in a gentle nighttime breeze, and the warmth
of it covers me like a hug. It feels like the gentle company I need while I catalog the issues keeping me awake.
The Eddie situation is only the beginning. I still have a job back in Atlanta, one that expects me to show up on Monday morning,
but now that I realize the extent of what the shop needs—making $50K appear out of thin air—I know it’s going to take longer
than a weekend to resolve. I wish I could erase my whole Atlanta life—the lackluster job, the shoddy apartment—but I’m not
naive enough to think that’s possible. I need that job to support me. My entire family believes Atlanta is a well of plenty,
of success and joy, for me, yet the longer I stay here, the more I put what little I do have there in jeopardy.
Telling them the truth about who I genuinely am would be not only to admit my own failures but to bring them shame too. I
have been the person they brag about to customers. The mortifying clippings at June’s that are still my most newsworthy accomplishments.
The high school accolades Dad could list out at the bankers’ lunches. If I show them what became of me, they would have to
walk it all back. They would have to explain that they didn’t have me to brag about after all.
But I can’t pack up and go back to my pretending. I can’t leave Junie or June’s or the aunts to figure out saving our most
precious possession on their own. Junie called me in for a reason. There are many things in this life I regret, but leaving
my family high and dry in this big moment of need would certainly be the whopper.
I’ll text Felix tomorrow at a more reasonable hour and ask him for the next week off.
I’ll have to call the situation a “family emergency,” which for all intents and purposes it actually is.
I’ll add the white lie to my list of Things I Feel Guilty About.
Felix has been good to me—even if the job doesn’t fit inside the dreams I hold (deeply and well-hidden) inside me.
I don’t expect everything at June’s to be fixed within a week, but maybe if we can get a plan together and start working the steps, I can leave the ladies to follow through and come back on weekends to help and check in on progress.
In the late-night air and the company of the creaking chair, extending my time here seems like the next right thing to do.