Hot Georgia Rein

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Hot Georgia Rein Page 3

by Martha Sweeney


  “I remember how Julianna always said she liked seeing him wear this one,” Mrs. Summerlin chokes, raising her hand to her mouth in a dramatic way.

  “They’re practically the same and the only two suits I have,” I remind, unimpressed by her poor attempts to control me.

  “Just try it on,” Mr. Summerlin suggests. “Let’s see the difference and then decide.”

  “How about someone ask me what the hell I want to wear rather than what you would prefer?” I question sharply.

  “Henry,” my father cautions, chiding me.

  “No!” I bark, tired of Julianna’s parents’ antics this entire week. “I’m tired of everyone questioning every fucking thing I’ve done for this funeral. If y’all want it different, tough shit. I’m doing what Julianna asked me to do the last time we spoke and I’m wearing the suit that I’ve already got on!”

  The jury, including my mother, stand still and remain quiet for several long seconds. They don’t challenge me and I appreciate the small victory.

  “Let’s take a breather out in the barn,” Davis suddenly suggests when the air in the house becomes almost completely suffocating. He grabs my arm as he opens the front door.

  “Yeah,” I agree, willingly following after him. “I could use a good cold one.”

  “No drinking,” Mrs. Summerlin directs. “Think of Julianna.”

  “Let the boy have a drink,” my father insists. “The boy’s been through enough.”

  I don’t bother to look back and curse under my breath at her insistence.

  Davis yanks me out onto the porch and closes the door fast, not allowing anyone else to add their two cents into the whole manner. “I could go for a beer too,” Davis comments as we get halfway to the barn.

  “I might need a whole fucking case with me if the rest of the goddamned day is going to continue like this,” I state.

  “I don’t blame you,” Davis replies.

  We enter the barn, and like on autopilot, Davis grabs us each a drink, pops the tops off of the bottles with the edge of the work bench and hands me one. We slam them down, gulping about half of the bottle before coming up for air. We stand silently staring off into space for a long while. I decide to take a sip, needing more liquid courage.

  Despite the fact that I had been living back in the house with Julianna since finding out she was sick, I can’t be in it let alone sleep in it. The barn is more comforting for me right now with everything going on and what I’m hoping will happen.

  “So…” Davis says, trailing off.

  “So?” I pry, not sure what he’s doing.

  “Do…do you think Ivy is coming? I mean, to the funeral and all?” Davis returns, catching himself just after I see his smile. “What?” he feigns.

  “Don’t know,” I answer, chugging the rest of my drink.

  “Do you want her to show?” he pries.

  “Yes…and no,” I admit honestly.

  “Really?” Davis pushes.

  “Really,” I confirm, grabbing a second bottle from the fridge.

  “Does this mean if she does come that she’s fair game?” he checks.

  I study him as I remove the cap. “No.”

  “Come on, man,” Davis whines. “You were too chicken shit to do anything when she was back the last time.”

  “Don’t care,” I return coldly.

  There’s no way in hell I’ll give my older brother permission to pursue Ivy. He’s liked her since Ivy and I were fifteen. Davis is two years older than me and always knew how to get the girls—all of the girls except Ivy.

  “You still love her,” he claims.

  “Don’t see how any of that might be your business…especially on the day I’m burying my fucking wife,” I spit.

  “What crawled up your ass?” Davis says, back peddling a little.

  “The Summerlins and you,” I explain.

  “She’s probably not going to show,” Davis comments. “She didn’t show for the wedding, so why would she come now?” He snickers and I know it’s because the innuendo of his last few words pops into his head. That’s Davis.

  I bite back my own response to the joke. “Cool it,” I command.

  “What?” he denies.

  “You know what,” I inform.

  “Okay, fine,” he huffs. “I still can’t believe she chose you over me back then.”

  I snicker as a prideful smile splashes on my face. “That’s because she knew you were a player.”

  “Was not,” Davis denies. “I couldn’t help it if some of the girls really liked me.”

  “You really liked underclassmen,” I remind. “Including my dead wife.”

  “I didn’t get mad when you married her after she and I dated for a bit, so why would you be mad if I pursue Ivy if she’s here?” he pushes.

  “Because,” I reply.

  “Because?” he pushes.

  “Because, you didn’t and don’t love either of them,” I remind. “You just liked trying to get into their pants.”

  “You didn’t love one of them,” Davis remarks.

  “I know,” I sigh. “I’ve regretted that since the day I married her.”

  “Why didn’t you divorce her?” Davis asks.

  “Because, that’s not something you do down here,” I remind.

  “Were you relieved when you found out she was sick?” he pries.

  “What?” I gasp.

  “You know what I mean,” Davis defends.

  “Julianna and I didn’t always get along, but I would never have wished that on her,” I state. “She didn’t deserve to die…but she also didn’t deserve a husband who didn’t love her…she deserved one who could love her the way she needed.”

  “I know.” Davis nods. “I know…you tried…She…she just wasn’t Ivy.”

  “No one will ever be my Ivy but Ivy,” I agree.

  “I want an Ivy,” Davis states.

  My eyes cut to him, shocked by his words.

  “You know what I mean,” he explains. “I don’t want your Ivy…I want my own Ivy.”

  “Yeah,” I sigh understanding the little bit of emotion my brother is sharing with me.

  “Well, we better sling these back and get out there before the Summerlins start freaking out again about something else, driving Mom and dad to do something unethical or illegal,” Davis declares, slamming back his entire second beer.

  “Fuck,” I chuckle, chasing the last bit of my drink as well.

  It’s one thing for the Summerlins to hound me, it’s another for them to do it to my parents. I’m grateful that Mom and Dad are able to help keep Julianna’s parents at bay, but I don’t wish the thing that is Mr. and Mrs. Summerlin on anyone. They eat at your soul like the cancer that claimed Julianna’s life. I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s partly to blame for her being ill among other things.

  After the incident in the house, the Summerlins have yet to bother me again since we left for the viewing. Either Mom or Dad said something to them, or they're so focused on grieving for Julianna that no one else exists right now unless that person drones on and on about Julianna leaving too soon.

  With my sunglasses on, I keep my head bowed as person after person comes up to pay their respects. I barely notice anyone outside of a few people while my eyes scan for Ivy. I see her parents and brother, but not her.

  When we get to the cemetery, all I can think about or question is how much more does the priest really need to speak before lowering the casket into the grave. I’ve never liked funerals and I’m tired of putting on a show for everyone who’s acting as if Julianna and I were the model young couple in town. Everyone assumed they knew us and our relationship, but they didn’t. That’s the one thing I did appreciate with Julianna. She never gossiped about our problems. She would talk about everyone else’s shit, but she always made it sound like I was the husband of the year.

  Julianna knew I didn’t love her from the beginning. I cared for her, but I couldn’t love her, not when I was wracked with guilt
for letting Ivy go. Plus, Ivy was my true love—the one I let get away. Julianna knew she could never be or replace Ivy, but she did try while we dated and for the first year of our marriage. When she got tired of fighting me to be a happy couple, that’s when we started to fight on a weekly basis, usually more than once a week. She kept pushing to have kids and I kept avoiding it and her altogether.

  Did I want kids? Yes, at some point, but not with her. If I was going to have kids with anyone, it would have been with Ivy. I knew that Julianna thought that a child might make us a family, might make us into something we never were or would be, but I knew the kid would just suffer like many do in ours and other small towns.

  There were a few times when I caught Julianna on top of me in the middle of the night, riding me until I was coherent enough to know what she was doing and tossed her off of me. She was trying to get pregnant since I stopped sleeping with her willingly. The third time she did it was when I started sleeping out in the barn.

  To the town and her parents, Julianna and I were trying to have kids, but weren’t successful. I’m not sure if Julianna told her mother about our challenges. I doubt it with the way the woman has always treated me, so it makes sense that she was the one to suggest to Julianna have us both checked for fertility problems. Julianna was so sure it was me. I refused to go through the test, suspicious of her trying to use it to impregnate herself behind my back. At some point, she had herself tested, and that’s when the doctors found cancer in her ovaries.

  Apparently, back in high school, when Mrs. Summerlin found out that Julianna was having sex, with a lot of men which included my brother and one of the teachers, she had Julianna be given the HPV Vaccine to prevent any unwanted diseases and then put her on birth control. I only know this because I overheard Julianna and her mother talking about it when they thought I wasn’t around.

  When Julianna was first diagnosed, the doctors didn’t understand why or how she would have developed cancer at her young age. A few months later, a variety of articles were popping up, stating that many women who were on birth control were more likely to develop breast cancer and those who were given the HPV vaccination had a high risk of developing ovarian cancer.

  When the doctors went to operate and remove the tumors, they found out that it had already spread farther than they thought and it was just a matter of time before Julianna would die. Julianna tried to fight it for a year, but the cancer was spreading aggressively.

  Today, the people in attendance know what they need to know about Julianna. I’ve made her sound like the hero of the story, not wanting her to be remembered in a negative light despite all of our challenges. I’ve felt comfortable doing so since she and I had a discussion the night before she passed. Julianna did most of the talking, but she also did a lot of forgiving and apologizing too, not just me.

  I thought it was only fair to honor her wishes. For as happy and attention seeking as she was, she wanted her funeral to be simple, light, and freeing—for herself and everyone she loved, including me. She forgave me for the inability to love her and requested that if I had a second chance with Ivy, to not fuck up this time: her words, not mine.

  The memory of our last conversation brings a chuckle to my lips. I look up to all of the faces around me, hoping that none of them have taken note to my, what they would call, inappropriate behavior. I let out a sigh of relief when I realize that I haven’t been caught.

  My eyes flick across the faces, near and far, but my Ivy is nowhere to be found. My gut flips with disappointment and despair. I pray that she’s here, admitting to only myself and God that I want her here—that I need her here.

  “You ready?” Davis asks, pulling me from my thoughts.

  “Huh?” I reply, looking up.

  “To go?” he checks. “We should make our way back to the house for the wake.”

  “Yeah, sure,” I huff, already tired of being around so many people.

  My brother and I aren’t really the personable type with people unless we like them. We’re good when it’s just the people we know and tolerate. With situations like this, where there are so many people I don’t really know or can stand, my ability to cope and be nice is limited.

  When we get inside the car, Davis offers me a flask.

  “What’s this?” I ask.

  “Figured you…we…might need some more distraction today,” he states.

  “You haven’t been drinking since the house, have you?” I pry.

  “I’m not an idiot,” Davis replies. “I know not to drink and drive.”

  “Good,” I reply, unscrewing the cap and chugging the entire container.

  “Hey,” Davis whines. “Not, cool.”

  “There’s plenty more at the house you can use to fill it up,” I remind. “Plus, you’re driving.”

  “True,” Davis says, taking the now empty flask. “Let’s go get a refill.”

  5 Ivy

  There was no way I was going inside the funeral home. I’ve never liked them since I was little, especially ever since old lady McGowan’s viewing when Parker Young placed a frog under her shirt to make it look like she was breathing. It took almost twenty minutes of me freaking out for my dad to find out that I was telling the truth and not purposefully causing a scene. I was only eight at the time and still learning the rules and proper etiquette.

  I make it to the cemetery, but I purposefully park along a side street and walk in. I don’t want to be spotted and I need an easy out if things get weird.

  My family knows I’ve been debating on actually coming today since they met me at the airport. Momma’s never pushed and just offered suggestions. She gave me her keys the night before, knowing that I need to go at my own pace.

  Once Momma, Papa, Grady, Nana, and Pops leave the house for the viewing, I drive Momma’s car over to the next town to get a rental for the day. I need a mode of transpiration that no one will know is me.

  As I approach a large oak tree that was across from the plot area where Julianna is being buried, that’s when I see him—my Henry. I stand as still as a statue the moment he looks up, worried that he will see and recognize me. His head lowers quickly and it takes me a few extra seconds to let out the breath I am unknowingly holding. I chuckle to myself at the absurdity of Henry recognizing me from such a distance. Aside from the fact that my dress is black, I have almost forgotten that I have sunglasses and a large hat on as well.

  He looks amazing and I can tell that he is built more even under his suit. His dark hair is shorter than I remember, but he has some scruff on his face. I chide myself for all the naughty memories of what it felt like when Henry’s naked body was infused with mine so long ago. To this day, over three years ago when I walked away for good, and from what one would call a safe, physical distance, Henry Lee Rein still has an immense effect on my body.

  I make it back to my rental car before anyone can recognize me as they drive out of the cemetery and over to Julianna’s and Henry’s home for the wake. I sit and watch as many of the cars drive off in the distance.

  “What are you doing?” Grady chides, peering into the passenger window.

  “Waiting until it’s safe to leave,” I state calmly.

  “I figured as much,” Grady chuckled. “I was referring to this car that is not yours. Did you steal it?”

  “You and I know that there was no way in hell I was going to drive Momma’s truck,” I declare.

  “I know,” Grady laughs, opening the door.

  “What are you doing?” I ask as he buckles up.

  “Going with you,” he explains.

  “Where?” I check.

  “To Henry’s, duh,” he says sarcastically.

  “Who are you texting?” I search, nervous when his fingers frantically pop around on his screen.

  “Momma,” he confirms.

  “What are you saying, exactly?” I inquire speculatively.

  “That I’m catching a ride and to go on without me,” he shares.

  I lean o
ver and glance at his screen. A sigh slips past my lips when I realize he’s telling me the truth.

  “What? Don’t trust me?” Grady goads.

  “No,” I return curtly.

  “So….”

  “So…?” I repeat.

  “So…when are you going to tell him?” Grady pries.

  “When the time is right,” I state.

  “When is that?” Grady pushes.

  “When it’s right,” I huff. “I’m not starting off with something like that after over three years of not seeing him nor on the day he’s saying goodbye to his wife.”

  “I don’t like keeping secrets,” Grady states.

  “Since when?” I challenge.

  “You know what I mean,” he claims.

  “No, I don’t,” I snap.

  “He’s my friend,” Grady defends.

  “You’re my brother,” I remind.

  “So?”

  “There’s a family before bros code,” I declare.

  “Never heard of it,” Grady states with a chuckle.

  “Grady,” I huff, clutching the steering wheel. “If you….”

  “Come on,” Grady laughs. “I know it’s not an opener after seeing your long lost lover. I don’t expect you to necessarily tell him today.”

  “Thank you,” I sigh.

  “But, I do expect you to tell him before you leave,” Grady announces.

  “I’ll take it under advisement,” I say through a clenched jaw, concerned that my brother will push for me to reveal something to Henry before either Henry or I are ready.

  The ten minute drive to Henry’s is quiet. Grady doesn’t talk and I thank God that he was smart enough to keep his mouth shut. When we get to the end of the driveway, I stop to let Grady out.

  “Chickening out?” he checks.

  “No,” I return. “I just want to make my way in when I’m ready.”

  “No time like the present,” Grady states.

  “Please, for the love of God, Grady, act like you love me and that you’re on my side for once,” I beg.

  “I’m always on your side…you just don’t see it that way sometimes,” he replies, jumping out of the car. “See you inside.”

  “Yep,” I say, pulling away just as the door closes shut.

 

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