Chapter 79 Junie
Junie
Junie spends the next two weeks surrounded by the people she loves the most, enjoying herself. She gardens, crochets, and
pets her dog a perfectly unreasonable amount.
She lives.
Sometimes she cries too. How could she not, feeling the reverberations of this life inside of her, the way it shakes her awake
as she lives one moment at a time, knowing it won’t last. She won’t last.
Tonight they’re having a traditional Friday night slumber party at the Clementine.
Junie is on her throne of a couch, Tina on a fluffy pallet she and Georgia constructed on the floor after dragging the coffee
table out of sight. Cece sits in the high-back armchair looking the most restrained of them all—besides the lavender wig cut
into a bob she wears on her head.
Tonight they all wear wigs, and at Junie’s request they’re colors of the rainbow. Junie is in bright pink, long and straight
to her waist, Georgia in baby-blue curls, and Tina in a fire-red shoulder-length.
Georgia wanders in from the kitchen, but the smell gets to the living room before her.
“Mmm, salty, buttery popcorn,” Junie calls to it like it’s a dog capable of heeding a command.
Her appetite has returned a bit since she stopped the treatments, and it’s been a gift. Her taste is better too, so she can
taste the red flavor of her Twizzlers. She and Georgia have been meal planning. Georgia shops and cooks, but they’ve tried
new things and stuck to old-time favorites alike. It’s so nice to see her big sister settled, her shoulders sitting at a normal
height.
Georgia has finally set down her armor and gotten busy having a regular life.
“Cece, open your mouth. Lemme see if I can make it in with a piece,” Tina calls over.
Well, at least as regular as is possible among a crew like this.
“I’m not about to let you choke me to death,” Cece says. “I’m fully capable of feeding myself.”
“Y’all quit bickering,” Georgia says. “Or you’re going to force me to start a game of truth or dare. Or worse, mani-pedis.”
She grins at Cece, who reflexively pulls her hands into her sleeves.
“Not if I can outrun you,” Cece says.
“Junie, honey, what did you want to do? Watch a movie? It’s been a while since I’ve seen Steel Magnolias,” Tina says.
“Didn’t I walk in on you watching it last weekend?” Georgia asks.
“Yes.” Tina nods deeply. “Like I said, it’s been a while.”
Junie laughs. The spirit that circulates among these Louises is like an energy source. She wonders for a moment if she might
run on it when the lights inside her eventually go out. It’s like a magical fairy tale designed just for her; maybe that’s
what heaven will be like.
Junie considers Tina’s question for the evening. “What I want to do is make a big memory.”
Georgia pouts. “I thought we promised no sad stuff.”
Cece grunts. “Oh, let her have it.”
Junie clears her throat. “Excuse me? If y’all are done, let me finish.”
“Whatever you want, honey,” Tina says, patting Junie’s leg from her perch on the floor.
Junie waggles her eyebrows. “Let’s streak the green.”
She’s met by a chorus of groans and gasps.
Streaking the green in Whitetail is an activity typically reserved for rowdy teenagers or drunk adults who don’t know better
yet. Not once in Whitetail history has a streaking incident gone unrecorded. Inevitably, someone sees. Someone walking a dog,
or dropping off an early delivery, or driving the garbage truck for the restaurant dumpsters. So if a resident decides to
streak the green, he or she is inherently agreeing to become the talk of the town until the next big piece of news drops.
“Are you sure, Junie?” Cece asks. “I’m less asking about the naked part and more asking about the running part.”
Junie throws her a look that says, You think I didn’t think of that? “Georgia’s going to push me.”
“What? So I can spend more time naked traversing the green? We all know the maintenance of that area is spotty at best.”
Junie erupts in giggles. “Precisely. But don’t worry, I’ll be shielding you partially in my chair.”
Tina makes the sign of the cross and mutters under her breath about forgiveness for her sins. “Alright, well, y’all better
let me stop by the house for my robe. You know I’m not spending a second more than necessary out there naked.”
Georgia throws her hands up. “Why the hell not. I guess now is the time if ever.”
Cece quietly gets up out of the chair and walks toward the door.
Junie clears her throat. “And where do you think you’re going?”
“I thought we were all going to get our robes.” Cece grins, and Junie feels the mischief in the air.
“As you were,” Junie says with a nod.
Thirty minutes later, the women are back at the Clementine, outfitted with robes and naked as the day they came into this world underneath them. Rainbow wigs intact.
They stand in a circle, and Georgia raises an uncapped bottle of bourbon.
“The higher the hair,” Georgia says.
“The closer to God,” everyone replies.
The bottle travels the circle, each taking a hearty swig. When it arrives at Junie, Tina reaches out and snatches the bottle.
Junie levels a look at her aunt. “Really? What difference is this making in the long run?”
Tina sighs as Junie tips the bottle, then wipes her mouth on the sleeve of her robe.
“It’s about to be the best Good Hair Day we’ve ever seen, girls,” Junie says. “Let’s load up.”
Ten minutes down the road, and the women are huddled together beside the truck parked parallel to the green. Cece unsnaps
the wheelchair and rolls it onto the grass for Junie.
“I cannot believe what you’ve got us doing,” Georgia says to her sister, positioning her robed self behind the chair.
Junie pulls off her robe and plops herself into the chair. “You’re welcome, Peach. Now drop the robes, ladies, and let’s get
to it.”
“On three?” Tina asks.
“You got it,” Cece says. “One . . . two . . . three!”
Fabric flies, and the women dash across the grassy knoll in the dark night. Laughter flies from them and the blur of flesh
they create. Georgia moves the wheelchair over the grass with unbelievable aptness.
“You done this before?” Junie asks her sister, cackling.
Georgia can barely push words through her giggles. “As if you wouldn’t know so by now.”
They get to the edge.
“Mercy, I didn’t think about having to double back,” Tina yelps.
Cece whips back in the direction of the truck. “And what did you think would happen?”
Georgia and Junie are last to make it back, and their aunts hold out their robes for them.
“Well, did we do it?” Junie asks as they load themselves and her wheelchair back into the truck, shading their faces in case
of onlookers.
“What’s that?” Tina asks.
“Make a memory.”
“Not a one of us is going to forget that anytime soon,” Georgia says, pulling her robe tight across her. “Just as it should
be.”