it's about Georgie
more fiction from me!
I’m continuing on my little fiction journey…
It’s about Georgie
The worst one is the first one.
Her words echoed through the telephone like the two were girls again, speaking through tin cans in the woods.
How do you know for sure?
It was May. Spring heaved and hid, bringing muddy skies in the morning and brief moments of patronizing stubborn light when no one was looking out the window to enjoy it in the afternoon. All the typical start of season joys appeared washed out like old shiplap sunk to the bottom of the bay. Even the church bells hovering on the breeze sounded more like a badly pieced together memory than any song.
There was a list of things needing to be done before the weekend — as the mayor’s wife every Memorial Day was more important than the preceding. Last year the committee had managed to book some new popular band all the kids liked, and had thousands of attendees spending their money (all tax deductible) in the name of fundraising for the island. The year before, they chose a retro theme and had a vintage car show in their mile-long driveway, old school carnival rides and treats down the lawn, and Donny Osmond himself flown in from Vegas to perform a pre-fireworks show, all hosted on the sprawling Hanson property that spread like manifest destiny out to the horizon and dropped off hard into the dunes below.
Last night Cora dreamed she was trying to climb up the side of the dune with two wet hands clutching a ceramic punch bowl while Georgie and all her guests watched from above, laughing. But then the juice was intestines and she was sliding farther and farther away from the wretched party and into the sea. When she woke, she of course was alone — Georgie had taken no time at all in packing up his pressed shirts, topsiders, and hats, and was happily bobbing in his boat on the bay, steps from here, but miles from her.
If you ask Georgie, he’d likely say it was his choice. They grew apart. They changed. They had new, different interests. They had different friends. New desires. New ambitions. Everything was new, except for her. That was the problem — somehow, between every Memorial Day and Labor Day, from Halloween to Easter, anniversary and birthday alike, from every cloth napkin laid and centerpiece built and invitation sealed painstakingly with wax, every sparkling lemon-scented countertop and man cave renovation and salon blowout — all of it be damned. She could never be new. She could never do life again. In the waiting room of the plastic surgeon’s office on Fifth Avenue, she watched a 16-year-old wearing a rhinoplasty splint from behind a flimsy brochure on laser hair removal and cried to herself.
……………………………………………………
Emily was right when she said the worst of it would be the first time she saw him again. She had stopped down at Cassidy’s to inquire about the prospective catches for the weekend — she had a grand idea to serve full roasted fish to coincide with the Mediterranean theme of the party, which now seemed stupid and corny and out of place and incredibly too much money and work and who would even be deboning all of these fish and why were we having a Mediterranean party for an American holiday, just cancel the whole thing why don’t you — when she heard his voice and a jolt went through her like she’d touched a live wire. It had only been a matter of days since the incident that resulted in the police knocking on their door at four in the morning but they had each lived lifetimes since then.
It’s about Georgie, Cora had said when Emily picked up the phone that night.
Where is he?
He’s in the back of a police car. In the driveway.
Did they say what happened?
They won’t. I think he made them promise.
Emily sniffed and sighed. What are you going to do?
What can I do?
The night buzzed around them like the wings of a hummingbird. Cora’s heart pushed on her esophagus and she swallowed into the phone.
Can you take him tonight?
I can’t, Cora.
Please.
He’ll dry out by tomorrow.
It’s not just that.
Then what?
Cora felt the phone in her fingertips, the glass slick with sweat against her cheek, her feet in her shoes flat on the earth. I meant I don’t think it’s just that easy.
Of course it isn’t.
The darkness gummed up the scene like molasses. In an hour’s time the lawn might be dappled with morning light, the colors of another day hurting the bruised hearts of the weary. But now, the only visibility came from the squad car, stuttering as the officer crossed its path to approach the Hansons’ front door. He took his hat off like he was a soldier preparing to deliver news to a widow that her lover had been blown to bits in some faraway land. But worse — her lover was someone she could never reach, here or not.
Cora?
Yeah?
I think we should handle this in the morning.
It is morning. Cora smiled weakly into the phone. Thanks for picking up though. Cora looked up at the approaching man, young enough to be her son. How humiliating.
Good morning missus Hanson ma’am. Cora surveyed the academy-fresh plebe stuck with the graveyard shift. She knew Alan was happily in his bed, likely fermenting, while his new charges handled the only real crimebusting of their little town: keeping its mayor alive.
Hi, officer. Can we maybe just —
Yes ma’am. He walked around the side of the patrol car and unlocked the door. Georgie, who was up against the window until now, came out onto the gravel like a dead body.
Cory.
Hi, George. Her voice was tinny and wrong. Can you get yourself inside or do I need to wake one of the boys?
At their mention, George put both feet on the ground and heaved himself up to his full height. Sloshed, sweaty, and smelly, but still gorgeous Georgie. No. Don’t wake them.
I turned the lights off around the corner ma’am I didn’t want to cause any disturbance with the kids tonight.
Thank you, officer.
Georgie put two large hands in front of his face and walked toward her like a zombie. You know you did this, right?
What?
The officer looked between man and wife. An owl hooted in the trees.
Ma’am, is there anything more I can help you with tonight? I know you have quite the busy week with all the festivities. Me myself, me and my brothers, we used to love coming down for the chowderfest, you know, that was one of our favorites. And that one year with the —
Yes, it’s going to be quite fun, Cora interjected. The young officer shut his mouth with a snap, blushing. I think we’re just fine here. Good night.
Yes ma’am. My apologies. I will see you.
He held her gaze for a moment longer, and within it, a silent covenant to keep the night’s occurrences between themselves. He nodded curtly and pulled away from the property, into a dawn cut only by the soft beam of his headlights.
Cora stepped to the end of her property line, staring out at the long stretch of road connecting her to the rest of that grayscale world. The sun was rising like a pitiful white orb over all the wicked and the damned. Georgie must have already been inside when he broke the night air in a voice clear as ice.
You know, I used to be someone else. Before I met you.
The words fell on Cora like hailstones. She turned around. What did you just say?
But he was gone. The night was gone and those words, when recalled, were more like a dream than any memory. It was late into the morning when Cora awoke again and had no recollection of those words ever being said. When she saw Georgie at the fish market days later, she said nothing. Neither did he. He called her once, but let it ring just twice before changing his mind. Noncommittal as he ever was. Cora had watched the screen go from alive to dead and for a moment didn’t recognize herself in its dark reflection.