If I'd Known

by Paige P. Horne

  “A road trip,” I say. “That’s a long drive. I don’t think…”

  “Hush, Charlotte. You promised you would listen and then think. Cynthia isn’t finished. Go on, child,” Maggie says. I eye her before looking back at Cynthia.

  “Go on,” I say, taking another sip of my drink.

  “I thought it would help me get a better understanding of your story. I mean, to see where everything took place,” she says. “I want to visit where you and Travis lived, where you grew up as a child, and where y’all fell in love in Ft. Pierce. I feel like I can write about it better if I can see it all, and wouldn’t it be great to go back and see how things are now?”

  I peer down at the floor, biting my bottom lip. I haven’t been down south in a long time. Here, the only memories I have are videos and photos, but down there… Memories are everywhere.

  “I need to get this story written, and I think this is the best way to do it. I want to see the things I’m writing about.”

  I look up at her and give a closed-lip smile. She’s just as eager now as she was when she was following me around to write this story and, unlike before, I’m struggling to tell her no. I’ve grown to love this girl like my own, and she wants to take a trip with Maggie and me. Two old ladies who will have to stop and pee, stretch our legs, and want to check out the flea markets along the way. “It’s a long ride, but a road trip is something I used to love to do.” I look between her and Maggie. “I think that sounds nice.”

  Cynthia squeals, “Yes! We should leave as soon as possible. I’ve got to get this done before the end of summer. I’m going home to pack!” She turns out of the kitchen and yells back, “I’ll see you two dark and early.”

  I look over at Maggie. “What have you done?”

  She scrunches her face. “Who me?”

  ––––

  Cynthia Rose knocks on my door at four a.m. with freshly dyed all over purple hair. I usually crawl out of bed around seven. Normally, I only get up at four to pee. So here we three are— well, make that four. Maggie had to bring Archie because her neighbor didn’t want to watch him, not knowing when she would be back and all. At least that’s what she told us, but I know better. Maggie loves that dog, and I’m sure she just didn’t want to leave him.

  We watch the sun come up over the highway, and we stop so Cynthia can get her coffee fix and we all can have some breakfast. Maggie and I pop our daily blood pressure pills and anything else we must take to keep our bodies going. For Maggie, arthritis meds; for me, pills to help keep my blood sugar good. I often wonder if I’d survive if I tossed all these pills into the ocean, but then I think I probably wouldn’t. My body is so used to them by now, it wouldn’t know how to work alone.

  “Oh, look! The Welcome to Georgia sign is up ahead. We have to get a picture,” Cynthia says. I turn my blinker on and get over, turning into the visitor center. We are now in Augusta, Georgia, and we all hop out of the car. Cynthia goes to the trunk and rumbles through her bag.

  “How will we all get in the photo?” I say.

  “Sir,” Maggie calls out to a young man. He turns around. “Will you take our picture, please?” she asks.

  “Sure,” he answers, walking over to us.

  “Well, that works,” I say to her as Cynthia shuts the trunk and hands him an older Polaroid camera.

  “Where did you get that?” I ask.

  “I’ve had it for years. I want to put photos from our trip in an album. You know, so I can maybe run across them one day.”

  “I think that’s a great idea.” I smile at this girl.

  We all stand off to the side of the sign that reads We’re Glad Georgia is on Your Mind. Maggie has on her hot pink sun visor, and her lime green fanny pack is in place. Archie is on his leash, and he lifts his leg to pee on the signpost. Cynthia’s lavender hair is pulled into a cute bun on top of her head, and she wears a baby pink spaghetti strapped sundress. I’m in a pair of jeans and a white and purple flowered blouse. I’m sure we are a sight, different in every way, yet we share one thing in common as we smile for the antique camera. We’re friends who accept each other for who we are, and that’s rare to find in this lifetime.

  ––––

  “I have an idea on where we can eat for lunch,” Cynthia says. “Last night while I was waiting for my hair to dye, I looked up some things.” I glance over as she pulls her notebook out of her pink polka dot bag. She flips to a page that already has a folded piece of paper in it. I look back at the road as she opens the paper. Darting my eyes over again, I see it’s an enormous map with places marked in red.

  “I see you’ve done some work.” I smile.

  “Yes, have you ever eaten at The Whistle Stop Café?” she asks me.

  “Yes, I have. They say they have the best fried green tomatoes.”

  “They say?” she asks. “You’ve never tried them?”

  “Yes, and I don’t like tomatoes,” I reply, adjusting my hand on the wheel. Maggie makes a snoring noise, and I look in the rearview mirror. “She’s out.” Cynthia and I giggle.

  “I’ve never tried them, so I’m excited.”

  “Well, that will be our first stop then,” I say.

  “Hey, I have an idea,” Cynthia says. “On this trip, we should each do something we’ve never tried.”

  “Oh Lord, that’ll be hard for Maggie. That woman has done everything.”

  “I’m sure we can find something. What about you? What would yours be?”

  “Hmm,” I say. “I don’t know. I’ll have to give it some thought.”

  “Okay. When Maggie wakes up, we’ll tell her.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  About two hours later, we’re going down back roads through Juliette, Georgia. Pine needles and pinecones are strewn across the pavement, and even though it’s late summer, it’s still hot as fire.

  Cynthia reaches up and turns the radio down. “Since we have some time, why don’t you tell me what happened after you got off the phone with your mom.”

  I nod. “Well, we drove on to Indiana. It was October, and I remember the weather was turning chilly. Like I said before, even though Mama agreed she’d let us date when we came back, we had to wait until Beverly got off work because Mama didn’t trust us to drive back alone.

  “Travis was to take the bus home, but without Mama’s knowledge, Beverly let Travis stay until a week before I was set to leave. She still didn’t let us sleep together, though, and I remember Travis saying on the way there, ‘Do you think they’ll let us sleep together?’

  “In return, I’d said, ‘We have been. I don’t see why not.”’ I shake my head. “We were so naïve. Of course, she wasn’t going to let us sleep together. For one, we weren’t married, and two, she had a daughter she had to think about.

  “She had two daughters, Sophia and me. You remember when I told you she remarried in Indiana and had another child?” I ask Cynthia.

  “Yes,” she says.

  “That’s Sophia. Now, we’ve had some good times,” I tell her. “I’d love for you to meet her some day. You’d love her. She’s a little like Maggie,” I look in the rearview and see she’s still asleep, “but has cooler style,” I whisper.

  “I heard that,” Maggie says. “If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times. Fanny packs make sense, and sun visors are meant to be hot colors.”

  I look at Cynthia and roll my eyes. She giggles.

  “Anyway, Beverly was more laid-back, and Travis and I were in no hurry to be back under Mama’s watchful eye…”

  ––––

  October 1973

  Desperate for some alone time, we sneak away to the back of the property near the creek behind Beverly and Bill’s house. Travis holds my hand as we walk through the woods, and once we’re far enough from the house, he lifts me up and presses my back against a tree.

  His lips roughly kiss mine as I wrap my legs around him. I reach down between us and undo his belt and jeans. My heart hammers inside m
y chest, pushing my blood feverishly through my veins. I breathe hard through my nose, and Travis grips my thigh with one hand while the other moves my skirt higher. He moves my cotton underwear to the side, and my mouth goes slack once he presses into me.

  Our lovemaking is frantically perfect and earth-shatteringly satisfying. He pushes forward and puts his face in the crook of my neck as his hand goes flat against the tree. I clamp my eyes shut as a feeling of pure bliss moves through me, and Travis kisses my lips until we are both nothing but deep breaths of air and wildly beating heartbeats.

  We come down from our high, knowing it won’t be long before we crave another hit, but we also know we better get back.

  “I hate that you’re leaving before me,” I tell him.

  “I know,” he says. “But it’ll be okay. I’ll get back to work and start saving up some more money, so when you turn eighteen we can get our own place.”

  Even though the thought of having our own place makes me smile, I have an unsteady feeling about how being back at Mama’s will be.

  “We will be together, Charlotte. Know that,” he says to me.

  ––––

  I pull into a gravel parking space near the railroad tracks in Juliette.

  “Shit, Charlotte. Y’all had some serious heat between you! I’m surprised you didn’t light that damn tree on fire,” Maggie says.

  I snort. “We had passion, for sure.”

  Cynthia puts her notebook inside her bag, and we four get out. I breathe in fresh pine, and my eyes take in the Georgia red clay mixed in with the chalky gravel.

  “What are we going to do with Archie?” Cynthia asks as he lifts his leg and pees on my tire.

  “He’ll be fine in the car,” Maggie says. “Cut it back on and roll the windows down, Charlotte. Archie’s afraid of heights, so he won’t try to jump out.”

  I do as she asks, and we leave the car and make our way up the worn front porch steps. “We missed the crowd,” I tell them. “There doesn’t seem to be a wait like I remember it.” I take in the place. Boy, it’s been a long time since I’ve been here. The Whistle Stop Café was once an old general merchandise store. The owner closed its doors after forty years back in the seventies, I believe, and twenty years later, it became what it is today. A small street is to the left of The Whistle Stop, running up through the quaint town full of souvenir and antique shops. There’s also a shop or two that is dedicated to the movie Fried Green Tomatoes.

  The train tracks line the right, and I can hear the train’s rumble as it comes rolling toward us. We open the screen door and walk up to the glass counter.

  “Hello. How y’all doing?” the lady asks.

  “Hungry,” Cynthia replies.

  “Then you’ve come to the right place. Three today?”

  “Yes,” I reply. She nods and grabs us menus.

  “Y’all can have a seat in that booth by the window. I’ll be right there,” she says.

  The all-wooden booth creaks when we slide in, and moments later, the waitress walks up and leaves us with the menus after taking our drink orders. We decide on a plate of fried green tomatoes for my girls, and we each choose our dinner.

  “This place is awesome,” Cynthia says after the waitress takes our order. “We have to go look in the shops after we’re done eating.”

  “Yeah, I’d like to walk Archie around a bit,” Maggie says. I look out the old windowpane and watch as the train goes by. It rattles the glass and vibrates our seats. I scan my eyes over the pictures on the wall and whatnots hung around the café. Cynthia grabs her straw and opens it when our server brings us our drinks. We make light conversation, and I enjoy my Georgia sweet tea as Cynthia sips on Coca-Cola and Maggie has the same. The fried green tomatoes are set down in front of us, and Cynthia picks one up and blows on it before dipping it into the sauce.

  “I used to eat these all the time,” Maggie says. “So good.”

  Cynthia takes a bite, and obviously, she agrees with Maggie because she makes a mmm sound and goes for more.

  “That would be my one thing I’ve never had or tried.”

  “Care to fill me in?” Maggie asks, reaching for her napkin.

  “When you were snoring, Cynthia said she’d never tried fried green tomatoes before. So she came up with the idea we each have to try one thing or do one thing we’ve never done.”

  “Oh, this should be interesting.” Maggie smiles.

  “What haven’t you done?” Cynthia asks.

  “Well, there isn’t a lot that I haven’t done, but I think I can come up with a few things.”

  “This should be interesting indeed,” I reply.

  Our dinner is served a short time after, and we enjoy small talk and fresh cooked vegetables.

  “I never learned how to cook well,” Maggie says. “Which is a shame because I sure do like to eat.”

  Cynthia laughs. “My mom never cooked, but we always had a chef and I’d sometimes watch him or her.”

  “What did your parents do to afford a chef?” Maggie asks.

  “They were surgeons.”

  “That’s impressive.”

  “Yeah,” she says. Maggie looks over at me as she says, “So tell us more about this Lit fella.”

  Cynthia picks up another tomato. “Nothing to tell really. He was just an old boyfriend.”

  “An old boyfriend who you loved and who took your v-card,” Maggie says.

  “Okay, can we stop saying v-card?” I tell her.

  Maggie huffs. “Fine. Your first screw.” She looks at me, and I eyeball her. She smiles.

  “Why did you two break up? Was it because you moved here?”

  “Partially,” she says.

  “You said you never looked for him?” Maggie asks, and I narrow my eyes.

  “What are you doing?” I mouth. She ignores me.

  “No. I haven’t,” Cynthia confirms.

  “Would you be really mad if I told you I found him?”

  Cynthia stops chewing.

  “He lives in Florida,” Maggie continues. Cynthia looks down as our server refills our drinks and lays down the check. Cynthia picks it up.

  “I’m going to go pay and walk around for a bit.” She slides out of the booth and walks to the glass counter.

  I look over at Maggie and say, “You didn’t.”

  “I did, and I’m not sorry for it. The girl is obviously missing something in life. She’s helping us find our happy; we need to help her, too.”

  “First off, how is she helping you find your happy?” I ask. “You seem to be happy all by yourself, and second, there you go again, sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. I’ve said this before. We don’t know what happened between the two of them.”

  “She’s helping me more than you know,” Maggie says. “And she said it was because she moved away.”

  “She said partially, Maggie. We don’t know what the other part of the partially is.”

  “It can’t be that bad. Charlotte, stop overreacting.”

  I shake my head. “Let’s go, so we can get on the road. I’m sure we’ll be getting the silent treatment.” I pull my wallet out and put some money down on the table before I pull myself up out of the booth. Maggie slides out after putting money down, too, and we walk out to look for Cynthia.

  Chapter Fifteen

  After we walk around and Archie stretches his legs and pees on everything, we four get back in my car and head to Wayside, Georgia. Cynthia is quiet, just like I thought she’d be, and Maggie is feeling bad. Not about what she’d done, of course, but about the fact Cynthia is upset.

  “Cynthia, I got you a pendant to go on your bag,” Maggie says, and I hear her take it out of its paper wrapping. “It’s a peacock.” She sits up and shows her. I look over at the white peacock pendant as it shimmers in the afternoon sun.

  “Thank you,” Cynthia says, taking it from her. She pins it on her polka dot bag and then sits back in her seat, gazing out the window as we pass by farmland. I look in the re
arview mirror, making eye contact with Maggie.

  “Apologize,” I mouth to her. She narrows her eyes, and then I see her shoulders slump.

  “I’m sorry, Cynthia,” she says a moment later. “I know I overstepped. I seem to be good at that lately,” she mumbles.

  I smirk.

  “You just seem so sad sometimes, and I wanted to help. That’s all.”

  I dart my eyes over at Cynthia when she doesn’t respond. She’s picking at the skin on the side of her thumbnail and in her own world it seems.

  I turn right onto Highway 11, knowing this road will take me straight to Wayside. The small town I once played with stray kittens in and then Clinton, the place I first met the most gorgeous brown-haired boy I’d ever seen. I haven’t been back in a long time, although I know that little green trailer Mama and I shared is long gone, but the memories will live on forever in my heart and mind.

  “Where does he live in Florida?” Cynthia asks, pulling me from my thoughts. I look over at her and then dart my eyes to Maggie.

  “St. Augustine. On a fishing boat.”

  “A fishing boat?” Cynthia questions. “How do you know all of this?”

  “My husband used to be a detective. I called in some favors from some old friends of ours that used to work with him.”

  “Oh,” Cynthia says. She shifts in her seat to look at Maggie. “What does he do now?”

  “He was in the Marines, but it seems he isn’t anymore. He runs a fishing business now.”

  “Really? Lit owns a fishing business.” She bites her curious smile. “I can see the Marine part, his dad being in the Army and all.” She shrugs. “Guess I can see the fishing part, too. He was always laid-back.”

  “We can go see him if you want,” I chime in.

  “No!” Cynthia blurts. “I wouldn’t have any idea what to say to him.” She turns around and faces the front again.

  “I’m sure we can come up with something,” Maggie says.

  Cynthia shakes her head. “You don’t get it, Maggie. I broke his heart. He called me for weeks after I left. I shut him out.” She looks out her window and continues working on her thumb. We come into Wayside, and I pull over into the parking lot of a store I used to get candy from as a little girl. It’s shut down now, nothing but old red brick and rusted gas pumps left for age to take over. I kill the engine and turn to Cynthia.