Chapter 21
“I’ve cleaned you all up, old lady. Now be good and don’t cause me any more trouble.” I finished drying off the back window of the Caddy and admired her sparkly clean body.
Every time I turned around, some other issue came up with this vehicle.
Thursday night, on my way home from the Magnolia Nephalist meeting, I was pulled over and came close to having a heart attack.
Turned out the Caddy had a taillight out.
The officer was kind, just giving me a warning.
I went yesterday to Greg and gave him some more of my money, but it wasn’t too costly of a fix this time.
I put away the car-cleaning supplies and went inside to get myself washed up. Despite the early hour, the humidity was already stifling.
My phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out and stared at my brother’s name for a split second before answering. “Hey.”
“Junie!” His voice didn’t hold the chipper excitement mine did. No, his held a frantic anger.
Instantly unsettled, I blurted, “What’s wrong? Fern okay?”
“She is, but are you?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Confused, I darted up the stairs to my room to gather a fresh set of clothes.
“What was it this time? Pills? Booze? Both?”
With my hand in the shirt drawer, I halted. “What the heck are you talking about?”
“I haven’t heard from you all week. After my Nashville news, I assumed you went on a bender again.” Sounded like that’s exactly what he wanted me to do. Too bad.
Tossing the shirt back into the drawer and slamming it shut, I whirled around and slumped against the dresser.
“Well, you assumed wrong, big brother. I’ve been giving you some space is all.
Seemed you were sick of me calling.” I needed the break more like it.
I was so angry at him for even considering taking my daughter out of state.
“We need to talk about Fern coming to live with me.”
“We already did.”
“Well, we need to talk about it again. I want to see her. And if you could see me, you’d see how good I’m doing.” I stared at the ceiling. “I’m serious this time, Cy. I woke up. I’m changed.”
“Something I’ve heard a million times with you! Such hyperbole.” He groaned, closer to a growl. “I’m getting another call. We’ll have to talk about this another time.” And just like that, Cy hung up on me.
Fed up, I ran through the shower, got dressed, and set out toward Columbia. One way or the other, I would see my daughter this day. Enough was enough.
The thick weekend traffic didn’t deter me from my mission. I’d considered stopping to get Fern a little gift, perhaps a doll or stuffed animal, but decided to just give her me this time.
A little over two hours later, I slowly drove through Cy’s neighborhood and parked at the curb across the street from his house.
I reached for the door handle but stopped when I spotted Cy, his eight-year-old son Alex, and Fern out on the front lawn playing a game of chase.
They hadn’t noticed me, so I sat back and observed them, an outsider stealing a peek into this family.
A family I was supposed to be a part of, but because of one epically failed day, I’d lost that privilege.
Sinking deeper into the driver’s seat, I watched as Cy went down on his knees, allowing the two children to tackle him.
Getting caught up in their silliness, I snickered, then full-on laughed.
Fern’s tiny self tackled Cy, hopping on his back like a bull rider about to take the grand championship.
Even through the closed window, I heard Cy make what he must have thought sounded like a bull, but to me he sounded more like a dying animal.
Fern squealed as he bucked, then Alex tried climbing on, only for all three to collapse in a heap.
I laughed but stopped abruptly as the bitter reality hit me: they’re better off without me. Not just my brother and his family, but also my own child. I put the Caddy into drive and slinked away, undetected, which only drove home the point even further—I was insignificant, forgettable, a dud.
The first hour back to Sullivan’s Island, I drove in silence. No radio. No phone call to my parents to beg them to come home for once and step up. Only my thoughts to keep me company, but they were doing a lousy job.
They are all better off without you.
Look! No frowns.
They are happy now.
You’re the problem, it’s you.
Just leave them alone.
I passed a few liquor stores. My mouth watered and this need to wheel in and quench my craving came over me, but I kept on driving.
I managed for a little while until needing a restroom break.
I pulled into a gas station. After filling up the Caddy, I walked inside with as much ambition as someone heading to the gas chambers.
I used the bathroom, washed my hands, and ordered myself to walk out the front doors of the store without any shopping. Snacks cost too much financially. And the beverage cooler could cost too much personally.
But then, the scene of Cy with his child and mine on his neatly mowed lawn came to mind. The lousy thoughts picked right up again.
They are all better off without you.
They don’t need you.
You’re the problem, it’s you.
Just leave them alone.
Grinding my teeth, I took a step forward, then another until I stood in front of the beer and wine cooler. While scanning all the options that might help to numb the ache in my chest, I decided I’d get a liquid appetizer here and then move on to a liquor store for the main course.
I opened the glass door and grabbed the first thing my hand landed on.
A tall can of light beer. The coolness of the can in my grip made my mouth water and I could almost hear the hissing sound it would make when I popped the tab, like a sigh of relief.
Throat closing, body aching, I somehow managed to return the can to the shelf.
To make sure I didn’t pick it back up again, I slammed the door shut and wiped the condensation dampening my palm onto my jeans to get rid of the guilt.
I reversed a step, only to lunge forward again.
Reaching for the handle then dropping my trembling hand, I silently begged God, Please, please take the taste of unhealthy out of my mouth.
Please don’t let me give in to this weak moment. Give me strength to walk away.
A tinkling giggle interrupted my prayer, or maybe answered it. As I opened my eyes, a little girl around Fern’s age plowed into me. Her tiny arms reached around my legs and gripped me with a fierceness I’d not expected from such a small human.
“Pop! I wanna pop!” The little girl let go of me, only to grab my hand and drag me over to the soda cooler and point to a bottle of Sprite.
“Good choice, but . . .” I scanned the store and spotted a haggard woman hurrying in our direction.
“Ellison! Honey, you cannot run off from Mommy like that!” She swooped the child up into her arms and started planting kisses all over her face, making Ellison squeal like a little piglet. “I would be so sad if I lost you.”
The mother apologized to me, but I waved off her concern. “It’s no problem. Glad she’s okay.”
“Little ones can be such a handful, ya know.” The mom laughed. “Do you have any?”
“Yes. A little girl about Ellison’s age.” I stuttered through my response, tasting the bitterness of what could possibly be a lie. A lie because I no longer felt like my own daughter belonged to me.
“Oh, so you totally understand!” The young mother gave me a commiserating smile, then started down the chip aisle.
Once they were out of sight, my gaze bounced between the shelves of beer and bottles of wine just to the left.
Swallowing with great effort, I refocused on the soda cooler.
Sure, the chemicals it took to make the fizzy pop probably stole years off my life, but that would be better than the epic disaster the cooler to the left could inflict.
I finally decided on a bottle of Sprite and got the heck out of there before changing my mind again.
Knowing I needed to talk to someone, to confess that I almost slipped, I walked over to Henry’s once I made it home. I found him out back at the patio table, his attention fully on the laptop in front of him. “You busy?”
He looked up and met my gaze without answering, his fingers never slowing the rhythmic tap over the keyboard.
I realized he was looking at me but only saw whatever world he was in the midst of creating.
Moments passed until he looked down, I assumed to save his work.
I imagined the click of that save icon was like him closing the door to his imagination and stepping back into reality.
Henry leaned back in the chair, his focus now clear and on me. Tilting his head, he gave me a thoughtful frown, reading the distress on my face. “Something wrong?”
“Yes.”
“What do you need?”
“I need a drink.”
He slowly shook his head. “No you don’t. What do you really need?”
“My daughter. I need my daughter.” The words barely made it past my lips, just in a puff of air as fragile as ash.
Henry stood and motioned for me to join him on the wicker sofa. “Tell me what happened?”
I collapsed beside him and started with the phone call from Cy that led to my spur-of-the-moment trip to Columbia to see my daughter, only to chicken out. As Henry listened quietly, I even confessed to standing in that convenience store, staring into a beer cooler.
“I’m sorry, Junie.”
I shook my head and huffed. “You have nothing to be sorry for. This is all on me.”
“Anything I can do?”
“No . . . I just have to see this through.” I groaned again. “I want to scream or break something.” I bowed my head and rested it in my palms. “Or both!”
“Do you have some closed-toe shoes?”
I dropped my hands. “For what?”
“You’re stressed, right? Need to blow off some steam?”
“I’m not running in this heat.”
“Me neither.” He rose to his feet and beckoned me to do the same. “What we’re doing is indoors.”
I slowly stood. “What’s indoors?”