Chapter 68 Georgia
Georgia
The time following Junie’s MRI results is blurry—from tears and hurt. Naturally, I feel responsible for the entire situation,
and it feels like steps back after making some progress on accepting the reality of what happened all those years ago. Still,
Junie tries to be optimistic. She sings as she bakes muffins that afternoon.
“What do you expect me to do instead, Georgia? Curl up and wait for it to get me?” she’d said with a smudge of flour on her button nose. “I feel like muffins, so muffins I’ll make.”
We ate the muffins and watched television, and I watched her whenever I could catch her not looking.
Friday we went to chemo, and Junie chatted up her favorite nurse and brought her new crochet project. She’s taken to wearing
a rainbow beanie she knitted herself—one that has a bobble sitting at an adorably jaunty angle—now that she’s lost her hair.
She even brought the container of muffins and shared them with the staff. The other patients, too, though none of them accepted.
The fact that Junie is coping so well makes me proud, and it also makes me feel so weak.
Maybe it’s strength she possesses—certainly she does—but I think what’s at play here is her delight in living.
She simply refuses to be miserable about the life she’s got because having one at all has always been a miracle to her.
She is miraculous. Like a unicorn to match her beloved rainbows.
Perhaps if she’s the rainbow, that makes me the rain. The inevitable misfortune through which the sun must shine to make magic.
Saturday was a mess of sickness and couch lying for Junie, and I leaped to my feet at every creak of the floorboard. “Give it a rest, Georgie,” she groaned from inside the toilet. “We both know I’m not moving that fast or light these days.”
Dad came for a shift of Junie aftercare and sent me to bed.
This morning, Junie wakes with a twinkle in her eyes, even if she moves slowly as she passes into the kitchen, where I stand
making breakfast.
“‘Summer lovin’, happened so fast,’” she sings, swinging her hips beside me.
Tonight we’re heading to Grease at the Whitetail Theater, and Junie is going in costume as Sandra Dee. At her urging I agreed to a slicked-back ponytail
and a black leather jacket to go as her Danny. I’ve planned to pencil in sideburns as a special surprise.
“You sure you’re feeling up for it?” I ask.
She scoffs. “I would drag myself there even if I had to bring my own throw-up bucket.” There’s a weariness to her swagger
that I hope she knows she can accept as well.
I don’t want to dim her light, but sometimes I want to remind her that this is the time—if ever there was one—to complain
and moan some. Even so, I don’t want to rain on her joy. Not if it’s working for her.
I smile back. “Let’s catch up on our reality TV today, and we’ll be in good shape for the evening. You get comfy, and I’ll
bring you a tea.”
“My favorite tea. Not the medicinal,” she says.
“Like I would do that to you,” I say. The stuff smells like fish left out in the sun.
Junie pulls a blanket over her on the sofa and scrolls her phone. “Good news,” she sings. “I just heard from the Silvers, and the bounce event made just over three thousand dollars!”
“Those Silvers sure do know how to organize an event around here,” I say.
Junie grins. “Not to mention, the snack shack lady was quite on top of things—or at least, that’s what I’m hearing around
town.”
I laugh. “She stole the show, to be honest. Let’s hope she doesn’t do the same tonight at the actual show.”
“And then there’s $1,200 from bingo,” Junie reads from the screen. “So added to the $7,100 we had, we’re now at $11,300.”
“We’re making progress,” I say.
When I look at Junie, when I hear these numbers, everything feels a pinch better. My sister, if nothing else, is helping me
see the good that continues to exist in this life. She points out the things that even the horrible parts can’t touch. Like
how the Silvers are showing up for us in action and in love.
Hours later, I begin the process of slicking back my hair, and Junie disappears into her room to change. I laugh at my reflection
in the mirror as I draw on extra-long sideburns with eyeliner. I slip into the black pants, white tee, and shiny loafers we
planned out in advance. With the leather jacket slung over my arm, I head back to the living room.
Junie cracks her bedroom door. “Drumroll, please!”
I lean over and drum on the coffee table.
Junie pops the door open, and the big blonde curls are the first thing I see. She stops, pops her foot, and pulls her own
jacket open, revealing the skintight black getup right from the screen. I notice that she’s thinner from treatment, but I
push the thought away. Instead, I whistle and whoop.
“I don’t know about you, but I’d say we’re ready.” I motion to our costumes.
“All I need is the candy cigarette,” Junie says.
As we wait in the theater lobby, everyone fawns over Junie, and soon she’s pulled across the room from me, flitting between
her fans. By now the news of her illness is well dispersed among the community, and the “June’s Reno” donation box in the
middle of the room is seeing a steady flow of visitors. Music from Grease is playing over the speakers, and everyone is chatting and laughing. It’s exactly what we need.
Eddie arrives, and the sight of him approaching me looks like the last piece slotting into a puzzle. It’s been just over a
week since he asked me on a date, and we’ve been texting regularly between his routine check-ins on Junie and the shop. Maybe
it’s that we’ve now acknowledged our mutual interest, but Eddie never seems to miss an opportunity to show up somewhere he
knows I’ll be.
“Never thought I’d say this, but you really know how to rock a pair of sideburns,” he says.
“I know my way around makeup a little. Must be in the gene pool too.”
Eddie’s face flickers with something, and I wonder if he’s thinking about Junie’s latest results; I wonder if he has things
he wants to say about them. I wonder if he knows things doctor people know but doesn’t want to say anything about them.
“I’m glad I caught you alone,” Eddie says.
I pray he doesn’t ruin the magic of tonight by talking about the illness.
“I really just wanted to let you know two things,” he says. “One, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen with sideburns.
And two, I asked Michaela to switch my ticket to next to yours so we can count this as our first date.”
It’s the furthest thing from what I was expecting to hear, and like reflex, a smile unfolds across my face. Between his responsibilities at the clinic and mine to Junie and the fundraising for June’s, it has been difficult to pin down time for us together.
“Look at you making things happen.” I stand there grinning at Eddie like a total fool.
He is exactly the sort of fun I need.
The bells chime in the lobby to let the crowd know it’s time to take our seats. Eddie loops his arm in mine and escorts me
in. I look over my shoulder and lock eyes with Junie, flocking in with a chattering group of friends. She winks.