Chapter 20 Georgia
Georgia
The bottles of wine in my grocery bag clink together as I walk up to the shop, and a distant train horn blasts like it’s sounding
my arrival. For the most part, the train tracks running right by June’s haven’t caused issues over the years. Aside from when
the horn sounds right as a stylist is lining up a straight edge cut. But by now the lesson has been learned: If there’s a
rumble on the tracks, pause and wait for it to pass.
Junie’s already there when I step inside and cross the dull, patchy, now-medium-clean floor.
“I’m ready, ready, ready,” Junie sings as I unpack my bag of wine and nibbles. She reaches past me and grabs a grape from
the container I’ve popped open.
“Just the enthusiasm we need,” I say. “But let’s leave some of the food for the meeting.”
“You say food?” Tina appears behind us. “Good idea.”
Tina turns, by reflex, to hang her bag on the hooks on the torn-up walls, then goes and hangs it on the back of a chair. I
screw a wine key into a cork as Cece glides in.
“I’ve already got a new idea for the list,” she announces. She marches right over to the chairs and begins arranging them in a circle.
Junie rolls over a stray office chair. Tina and I join with wine to share in hand. “Alrighty, let’s get officially started.
Junie, the honors?”
She holds up her plastic cup of wine and toasts the meeting.
Cece clears her throat. “Ok, well, now that we’re official or whatever, my idea is that we have a garage sale at your dad’s
house. Lord knows, Rich needs a clean-out.”
It’s a good idea. Dad inherited a ton of home items from his wealthy Connecticut family. Come to think of it, there might
even be items of real value that we could sell to an antiques collector if he approves. We never really saw our grandparents
on Dad’s side growing up, and he never seemed bothered about it. He always said he’d left his past behind, and he was happy
with the family he had here in Whitetail. As a kid I did overhear a few snippets, and after filling in a few blanks, I deduced
that his parents weren’t particularly interested in making the trip to Georgia, and over time, distance grew between them.
“That could work.” I look around at the other two.
“Worth a try,” Tina says.
I catch Junie’s eye and she shrugs.
“Good thing y’all agree,” Cece says. “I already told Rich we would.”
I take a long, slow gulp of wine. Dad is a softie, and honestly, he’d probably let us sell whatever we pleased right out from under him.
He was a good match to Mama’s big personality, letting her chase her whims without complaint.
After we lost her, he moved further in that direction, and for a while he was just .
. . there. We knew he was hurting, surviving the only way he knew how, but it sometimes felt like he didn’t care enough.
Like he should’ve pushed back on us when we were constantly cutting and coloring each other’s hair in increasingly wild styles.
Like he should’ve said no to some of the parties Junie attended.
To be very clear, I’ve always felt love from my dad.
I think Junie feels the same too. It’s just that he sort of floated out of our collective orbit after Mama, the sun around which we spun, went out.
He was there, loving us as best he could; he just wasn’t close.
“When?” Tina asks.
“Tomorrow clean out. Wednesday figure out pricing. Thursday sale day. I know a weekend might be better, but on account of
Georgia needing to get back, I think we stick with the ASAP date and do our best.”
Junie covers her mouth and speaks between bites of crackers. “Count me in. Knowing Daddy, we’ll probably need as much help
as we can get.”
She’s right. He’s so laid-back that he’s close to lying down when it comes to his belongings.
“You should ask Eddie,” Tina says to Junie.
Everyone freezes, and Tina turns bright red.
“Sorry,” Tina says. “I shouldn’t have . . . Stupid old me. I’m sorry, girls. I don’t want to get in the middle of this.” She
continues muttering under her breath about putting her foot in her mouth.
My guts churn. I guess it’s time to just address it. “It’s fine, Tina. All of it’s ok. Let’s just be adults about this, ok?”
Tina nods, looking on the verge of tears.
“Eddie will probably be at the clinic anyway,” Junie says, dropping her eyes to her plate.
“The clinic?” I don’t know I’m asking it until the words are already out.
Eddie knew he would be a doctor since the day his parents bought him a play set when he was three years old.
I know this because it was discussed in his college admissions essay that I read five thousand drafts of back when I was his girlfriend.
Honestly, the doctor thing fit him. He was fiercely intelligent, a pinch nerdy, and so loving that his worst professional transgression would most likely be attempting to donate his own organs to a patient.
The local clinic is a change of plans, however.
He always wanted to work in a city hospital, seeing rare diseases, having clinical trials in which to enroll his patients, working in a place on the cutting edge.
And he was good enough to snag a spot there.
“He took a job at the family practice over on Elm Street,” Junie says. “At least for now, while he’s home for his mom.”
I don’t know a thing about what’s going on with his mother, and it’s not really any of my business. It’s been years since
he and I were together, since we’ve had a real conversation, so it’s not like I’ve been in the loop on family updates. Though
now he’s suddenly cozied up to my sister and breaking the unspoken rules of separation.
“I think we’ll be fine with just us ladies,” Cece says in a tone that suggests she’d rather not have to wade through any kind
of boy drama.
Everyone nods in agreement.
“Might be best to keep it between us anyway,” I say. “The likelihood of it being a walk down memory lane and all. Now, what
do you ladies say—who’s ready to throw some cash at Tina? Lotto was the first order of business today, before the new idea.”
The three faces I love most in the world (yes, even Cece) crack into grins. We pool the cash quickly and melt into a conversation
about lucky numbers and scratchers versus traditional lottery. Eventually we’ve almost drained the wine and destroyed the
snacks. I intentionally brought a small amount of wine—typical Georgia, the others might say, but we can’t all be fun Junie. We don’t need Good Hair Days girls hungover for garage sale prep.
We discuss the plan for Cards this weekend. It works out well that the regular schedule falls this way, but we all agree adding
extra nights might become a reality. Tina tries once more to convince us about the oils.
“I mean, they call themselves Boss Babes, so couldn’t it be worth a try?”
“There’s no proof of income required to call yourself a Boss Babe,” Cece says. “Which is what we’re in need of right now.”
Tina sighs and raises a glass.
We laugh. We drink.
We find our rhythm so quickly, and I’m surprised by how worn in it feels. As if this is how we’ve always been. As if I never
left, as if I’d never been sent out to conquer the world. This is how I always wanted friendship to feel, like somewhere I
could lean into, a place I was welcome, no strings attached.
I’m just not sure how long it can last.