The Space Between

by Thompson, Nikki Mathis

  “What woman?”

  She flinched, then turned to find Amelia standing by the counter.

  “One guess.”

  “Gran?”

  She smiled and pulled her daughter into a hug. “You guessed it….And I promise, I won’t drive you crazy when you’re grown.”

  “I know that, Momma.”

  Amelia was still young enough to think her mom was cool, yet old enough to get where she was coming from. It was the best. She figured she had a few more years until she became enemy number one.

  “Mom, do I have to go to this thing?”

  Georgia gave her a look. “Uh, yes. If I have to go, you have to go. Granny expects us to be there and there’d be heck to pay if we didn’t show. You know that.”

  “But it’s a bunch of old people eating corn on the cob and pinching my cheeks. Can you say coffee breath?” Amelia asked, cocking her head to one side.

  Georgia laughed. “I know what you mean, but everyone goes to the spring picnic, including the Bristols. So, go, get ready, and make sure you brush your hair, please.”

  “I did.” A dubious look from her mother followed. “I did!”

  “Well, try again. You have to brush underneath, not just the top three strands…Don’t give me that look, miss. Now scoot.”

  “What was that about you not driving me crazy?” Amelia threw out over her shoulder.

  Georgia chuckled and slid the clear baking dish into the oven, then set the timer. She ran down the long list of things she needed to get done in the next hour, including getting herself and Bonnie ready. Nate would meet them there. He was doing something with his brother out at their parents place. Probably fixing or shooting something. The extra help would have been nice, but she could handle it. She was a mom. She was used to wearing many hats…while using both hands.

  She took the world’s fastest shower and threw on a pair of dark jeans and a cream cable knit sweater. A cold front had blown in the night before, but the sky was clear and the wind wasn’t blowing for once, so it should be a perfect crisp day. Georgia didn’t have time to fix her hair, so she ran a brush through the wet tangle of waves and wrapped it into a loose bun. She looked pale and the small bags under her eyes were evidence of the two a.m. wake-up call her toddler had given her. Bonnie had fallen right back to sleep after a sip of water and a kiss. Georgia, however, wasn’t so lucky. Nate hadn’t even stirred.

  Men were either proficient at faking unconsciousness, or became deaf after midnight.

  Concealer and blush helped bring some color to her face. It was a church picnic, so she wasn’t concerned about impressing anyone, but that didn’t mean she wanted to look like a corpse.

  “Hey, Bon, time to put your toys away, angel. We have to get dressed and go play.”

  “Go play?”

  “Yes. There’ll be lots of treats and yummy things to eat, too,” she said, kneeling down by her daughter.

  “Treats?” Bonnie was in the turn everything into a question phase.

  “Yes, baby, treats. Granny and Pawpaw will be there.”

  “Granny and Pawpaw?”

  “Mmmhm.”

  “Daddy coming, too?”

  “Yes, daddy, too.”

  Georgia grabbed one of the canvas bins from the small white shelf and began to pick up. Bonnie was more interested in her stuffed animals than cleaning.

  “Come on, help mommy.” Georgia began singing the “clean up” song and Bonnie started to join in—the singing that is, not the cleaning. She pushed the bin towards her daughter and Bonnie placed one doll dress inside. Georgia figured it was better than nothing and quickly finished the rest herself.

  The colder weather had forced her to put the new ruffled dress she’s bought Bonnie for the occasion back into the closet. She dressed her in thick polk-a-dot leggings and a purple tunic instead. More appropriate for playing anyway, in her opinion.

  They sang “Old MacDonald” while Georgia brushed her daughter’s golden hair. Bonnie moo’d loudly as her curls disappeared into the braids on each side of her head.

  “E-I-E-I-Oooooooo!” They sang loudly and off key, immediately followed by giggles and a peppering of kisses. Amelia must have heard their concert and appeared in the doorway of her sister’s bedroom. The smile on her face was wide and unfiltered. Georgia opened one arm and Amelia quickly became part of a group snuggle.

  “Love my girls.”

  The sun was like a crown in the sky by the time they arrived at the church. She held Bonnie to her hip with one hand and a bowl in the other. Amelia held the cake. A very boisterous game of chase had already commenced in the large expanse of grass between two lines of trees. Her girls looked to her with hopeful looks on their faces. Georgia nodded and they were off to join the ruckus.

  She balanced her prepared dishes, scanning the crowd. Lucy, Nate, anyone? She did spot her mom, who was helping a group of women set up the large glass containers of iced tea at the far end of the spread. Ten long tables, covered in checkered table cloths, had been pushed together. Smoke billowed from the five foot smoker, making it look like an angry tin dragon—no doubt filled with ribs and brisket. It was manned by Henry Murphy, whose rotund belly was wrapped in a straining white apron.

  Jello mounds in every shade. Cookies, cakes and pies. Georgia eyed her bright green salad she’d set down, strange and conspicuous in the field of mayonnaise covered potatoes and macaroni. She heard someone ask, “Are those, raisins?”

  Georgia realized the person was looking at her salad.

  Raisins?

  Don’t roll your eyes.

  “They’re kalamata olives, Margie,” Georgia replied, gainfully keeping the annoyance from her voice. The older woman’s round cheeks puckered at the jaw. She was looking at Georgia like she’d answered the question in Chinese.

  “Now what on God’s green Earth is a kalamata olive?” Her thick twang butchering the syllables.

  Don’t roll your eyes.

  “It’s a Greek olive…to go with the Greek salad.”

  “Oh, well, isn’t that exotic. I’m sure everyone will just love your little olives, sweetie.” She shuffled past, stopping at the deviled eggs two plates down.

  Georgia sighed, grabbing the tongs out of the bowl. She piled on as much as her plate could hold and found a spot under a tree. Raisins, olives, whatever…they were delicious.

  She made two plates for her girls, and wrangled them long enough for them to scarf down the contents in less time than it took to fill them. Now with full bellies, they ran off to play a game of hide and seek. Amelia held her little sister’s hand as they picked their hiding spot, Bonnie’s braids swinging as she ran. Georgia mingled a bit and did her best to avoid her mom, who she knew was just dying to tell her “told you so” about her salad. She must have been proud that the cake Georgia made was one of five cola cakes. In her mom’s eyes it was better to be an imitator than an innovator. “Best to blend into the herd, Georgia,” she’d say. “Stand outs are the first to be taken down by the lions.”

  She guessed that was true, if they lived in the plains of Africa. It always baffled Georgia why her mom would want her to be ordinary.

  Well, Mom, you certainly got your wish.

  Nate finally made his appearance, nearly scaring her to death when he snuck up behind her. “Hey, there, sexy.”

  She smacked him in the shoulder and laughed.

  His sandy curls were combed into place, but his navy blue thermal was not in the same shape as it was when he’d left the house that morning. Her eyes took in the way it stretched across his toned chest. The wrinkles and dirt became less noticeable.

  “I was beginning to think you weren’t gonna show.”

  “Yeah, sorry so I’m late. We were helping Dad with his new fence on the back side of the property. The old posts were a bitch to get out of the ground. It took twice as long as we thought it would, but you know it’s always like that when Dad does a project.”

  “Yes, that is true. Remember when he rep
laced the wood floor in the den? Wasn’t that supposed to take a week?”

  “Yep, and it ended up taking three. But he loves it—it’s his idea of bonding…So, what’d I miss?”

  Georgia filled him in on the girls, then mentioned her snubbed side dish. He marched over to the table and grabbed a fork. He took a large bite and said, rather loudly and with his mouth full, how good the salad was.

  “Have you tried this?” he’d asked loudly, to no one in particular. “Damn, my wife can cook.”

  “Nate Bristol!”

  “Sorry, Bette,” he called out to his mother-in-law, not sounding a bit sorry.

  Georgia teetered between mortification and amusement. The man had no shame.

  “You’re crazy, ya know that?” she said, finally pulling him to the side.

  He put his hands on her hips and grinned—it was a cocky, crooked grin.

  “Crazy, for you, baby.” He kissed her on the tip of her nose. “I’m gonna catch up with the boys over there by the smoker and do manly things.”

  “Oh, please don’t leave me. I haven’t seen you all day and there’s only so many conversations I can have about the new pastor’s wife and her wardrobe choices. Oh, and who has the best recipe using a can of mushroom soup. I’m bored to tears.”

  She pleaded with her eyes and made sure to pout her lips.

  “Awe, baby, come on. Don’t give me that look. I’ll see you soon. I’m just gonna pop over for a bit. We have to go over the details of our quail huntin’ trip next weekend.”

  “Next weekend? You didn’t tell me about that.”

  “I didn’t? Huh, thought I did. Anyway, Wayne’s got a new cabin and we’re all gonna break it in next weekend. Ya mind?” His blue eyes softened, the way they always did when he wanted her to say yes.

  And he did it again—put her on the spot. She had two choices. Say no and be the bad guy, or lie through her teeth and say, “Sure, I don’t mind.”

  Choice number two, like always.“Thanks, baby.” He kissed her cheek and patted her behind. He must have given them a thumbs up because cheers erupted as he joined the guys.

  She sighed and turned away. The next part was automatic and routine—put a smile on. Smile on the outside…but on the inside, the inside was whatever she wanted to be. Thoughts, wishes, hopes, fears. They were the only things she had that was hers and hers alone. She hoarded them greedily. Kept them under lock and key. Not that Nate ever asked, or even imagined she might have anything going on other than the front she presented. Wasn’t it obvious, though?

  Men were notoriously obtuse when it came to a woman’s complex emotions. Whether the male sex was truly in the dark, or played at it flawlessly, would most likely remain a mystery.

  Either way, it drove her insane. She was baffled that she wanted to kiss him one minute, and kick him the next.

  Her vision blurred as the bustling activity around her whirled as if it were water spinning on the edges of a drain. Music…Eating…Laughter…Warm embraces…Kids stealing sweets…Men bragging…Women gossiping.

  Georgia stood amidst it all, feeling detached.

  How could she feel so alone with so much life going on around her—to feel invisible despite being surrounded by others? She’d give anything to lose the uneasy feeling just beneath her skin. It crawled and itched. Kept her up at night. Uncertainty, not of what tomorrow would bring, but what she wanted from it.

  Complacency is a festering thing—a parasite that lulls you into a sense of peace, but under the surface it’s sucking at your soul. Slow. Gradual. The peace, an illusion.

  You think you’re floating, but in reality, your head is being held under water.

  ~Chapter Seven~

  “Thanks for no-showing at the picnic, biatch, ” Georgia griped, holding up her middle finger.

  “Sorry, I got held up by my nap and channel surfing.” Lucy grinned, then took a sip of her coffee. She’d come over an hour earlier bearing a box of guilt muffins, banana nut, Georgia’s favorite, and a contrite smile. They were now sitting on the beige love seat in Georgia’s sitting room enjoying those muffins.

  “I had to listen to Gladys Leonard go on and on about the genius of Crisco. Yeah, not just for cooking.…I won’t tell you what the stash in her bathroom is for, but use your imagination.”

  “Ew! TMI much? I swear, some of those old biddies at church have no freaking filter…But really, I’m sorry I didn’t show. I know you hate those things.”

  Georgia nodded, thoughtfully chewing the small bite she’d put in her mouth.

  “Well, at least Nate was there to keep you company. That is, if none of his buddies were there.” Lucy loved Nate, but knew how he was. Just like Georgia knew all the good and bad about Lucy’s husband, Brett, who she could always count on in the bedroom, but not in any other rooms in the house.

  “They were, so he spent most of the day by the smoker. Probably talking about hunting and the NFL draft.” Lucy made a gagging face and brushed the crumbs off her yoga pants.

  “Oh, well, I survived and the girls had a blast, so no big,” Georgia admitted. “These muffins are amazing, by the way. If you’d just shown up with those shitty donuts from the gas station, I would still be pissed.” They knocked into each other’s shoulders and laughed.

  “I knew I had to butter you up, so I drove into Clive and picked these up. They have this amazing new bakery on Fifth and Main.”

  “Wow, you drove twenty minutes just to get me muffins? Your ass kissing knows no bounds.”

  “I know, right?”

  “You know you didn’t need to bring me anything. I can never stay mad at you.”

  “Oh, yeah? What about that time I super glued your underwear drawer shut? Remember you had to go commando for two days until your dad got back into town.”

  Georgia laughed. “God, he was so pissed. He had to pry the front panel off with a crow bar.”

  “Or what about the time I froze your—”

  “Okay, okay. There are a million ‘what about the times’ you could bring up. But I never stay mad at you—for long.”

  Georgia pulled Lucy’s small frame into her side. She could smell the lotion Lucy had worn for as long as she could remember. It instantly comforted her. If Georgia’s true North had a smell, it would be that soft vanilla scent.

  They continued to chat shoulder to shoulder until it was time to pick up their little ones from Mother’s Day Out. Lucy’s son, Wyatt, was six months younger than Bonnie. They always joked about who would be the hotter mom when their kids married each other. Lucy said tan skin ages slower, so she would win hands down since Georgia’s “pasty white face will crack like a pie crust.” Georgia always said she would look statuesque and lean no matter her age, while Lucy’s “short veiny legs will make her look like a Hispanic hobbit in drag.”

  They walked down the drive together, hugging one last time.

  “Hey, my one o’clock cancelled tomorrow. Come in, your ends look like shit,” Lucy teased, pulling a piece of Georgia’s hair.

  “Gee, thanks, bestie.”

  “My pleasure. I’ll see you tonight, right?” Lucy asked.

  “Why not? There are two things you can always count on, me pretending to be social, and me being the hot one.”

  Lucy laughed and stuck out her tongue. She was about to shut the door of her car when Georgia called out. “Hey, does that bakery sell cupcakes? I thought I might pick some up for Amelia’s birthday.”

  “What, you’re not gonna make her cake this year?”

  “Ha ha, very funny, hooker.”

  Georgia had made a three-tiered cake, covered in pale green fondant the year before. It was supposed to look like a stack of presents, but came out looking more like a pastel volcano for a fifth grade science fair. After Amelia burst into tears, Georgia had dumped it in the trash and hauled ass to the Food Mart for a plain sheet cake.

  She could laugh about it now.

  Lucy smiled. “I’m sure it was ten times better than what I could have d
one. If it has casserole in the title I can do it, but I can’t bake for shit.”

  “Brett didn’t marry you for your cooking.”

  “Hell no he didn’t.” Lucy wiggled her eye brows.

  “Cupcakes. Si or no?” Georgia asked, cocking her hip to one side.

  “Yes, they have cupcakes, in every flavor. Worth the drive for sure.”

  “Thanks. Love ya.”

  “De nada, and what’s not to love?

  ***

  “What are we doing here again?” Georgia asked in a harsh whisper.

  “It’s called socializing and getting you out of your comfort zone, which is on your couch reading,” Lucy answered.

  “Oh yes, this is really walking on the wild side. Word on the street is scrapbooking’s the new jaywalking…speaking of reading, you told me this was a book club.” Lucy’s only response was a cheeky, sorry not sorry, smile.

  Georgia shuffled through the pictures she brought for about the tenth time, still no closer to figuring out what the hell she was supposed to do with them. The other ladies were laughing and stamping things, putting decorative paper down on top of paper seemed stupid to her, but she was doing her best to act interested. The looks Lucy was throwing her way told her that she was failing miserably.

  “G, at least try to smile. I have to live by these people.”

  “I am smiling.” She pulled her lips back into what she hoped was a sincere smile. Again the look from Lucy told her otherwise.

  “Sorry, I’ll try harder. You know how I hate crafts and this is like the mothership of crafts. The only thing I’ve managed to glue is the skin on my freaking fingers.”

  Lucy chuckled and handed Georgia her double sided tape. “Here try this.” Georgia nodded her thanks and attempted to take part in the conversations going on around the table.