Hot Georgia Rein

by Martha Sweeney

  “And, that’s why y’all get tickets,” Bobby returns. “License and registration please.”

  “Seriously?” I complain.

  “We can take as long as you’d like,” Bobby states. “Fine by me.”

  “Fuck,” I groan, shifting to get my wallet out of my back pocket and then into the dash to get the registration. “Here.”

  “Thank you,” Bobby replies in his version of a Southern accent.

  “Hurry up,” I direct.

  “I’ll throw you in jail for harassin’ an officer of the law,” Bobby warns, walking away.

  “I’m not harassin’ you,” I shout back at him. “You’ll know when that’s happening.”

  “This is your second warning,” Bobby states. “I will lock you up.”

  I keep my mouth shut even though I want to shout every expletive on the planet that I know and throat punch him. Bobby’s one of those cops who enjoys his authority way too much. If it had been any other officer on duty, I would already be to the Abney house.

  Bobby takes his sweet time, and about twenty minutes later, I’m finally on my way with a bullshit ticket in hand.

  Before I’m out of the truck, Grady is already coming out of the house. “Hey, man,” he says.

  “Hey,” I reply. “Did Ivy leave already?”

  “Yeah,” he confirms. “Momma and Papa took her to the airport.”

  “Do you know if she already has a flight?” I inspect.

  “No,” Grady says. “But, I’m sure she took care of it on the drive. This late at night it won’t take so long to get there. Plus, there are always flights going up to New York.”

  “Why are you here?” Grady checks.

  “I was hoping to catch her,” I say. “I didn’t want Ivy going back alone. She seemed really upset.”

  “Yeah,” Grady replies. “Let me text Momma and find out.”

  I wait impatiently as he sends her a message, and thankfully she writes back pretty quickly.

  “Momma says Ivy got the next flight out,” Grady informs. “It’s just her going.”

  “Fuck,” I groan.

  “You okay?” Grady asks.

  “No,” I sigh. “I don’t like the way she left…it feels like it’s the past all over again.”

  “She’s not leaving because of you,” Grady reminds.

  “I know,” I huff. “I just wish she would have let me go with her.”

  “Then, why don’t you?” Grady inquires.

  “I’m not with her, am I?” I reply sarcastically.

  “No,” Grady agrees. “But, you can get on the next flight.”

  “I’ve never flown before,” I remind. “I’m not sure I want the first time to be alone.”

  “Then, drive,” Grady suggests. “It’ll take awhile, but you could make it by mid-morning I think.”

  I take out my phone and check the driving distance. “It’s around thirteen hours.”

  “If you leave now,” Grady adds. “You’d probably be able to cut down a bit of time too with it being late. Can you drive straight through like that?”

  “For your sister, I think so,” I confirm.

  “Then, go,” Grady suggests. “No better way to let her know you’re serious about her than to just drive up there. Be there for her.”

  “Do you think she’ll mind?” I pry. “I don’t want to intrude while her friend is in the hospital.”

  “Who?” Grady asks oddly.

  “Cece, her friend,” I remind.

  “Oh…right,” Grady replies with a strange tone. “I’m sure she’d be happy to have you. Having you there will most likely keep them both calmer. I can text her and let her know that….”

  “No,” I interrupt. “I want to surprise her.”

  “Okay,” Grady replies, holding his hands up in defense. “That might be good. Maybe text her once you’re up there.”

  My head bobs as I calculate everything. “Do I need anything?” I check.

  “Your keys, wallet, gas, and maybe some clothes for once you’re up there,” Grady suggests. “Food to keep you going.”

  “Right,” I sigh. “I need to get some stuff packed and then I’m going.”

  “Call or text if you need anything,” Grady offers. “I don’t mind helping keep you awake if you need.”

  “Thanks,” I reply, hoping back into my truck.

  Zooming through the streets, I leave the truck running as soon as I pull up to the barn. I grab anything that doesn’t smell and is in close proximity to me to use for clothes. I get a few things from the bathroom and some food and drinks before leaving. With it being just after ten at night, I should be to Ivy before noon tomorrow.

  I text Grady for Ivy’s address, and once it’s programmed into my driving app, I hit the road. It’s long and dark with barely anyone out which should help with the drive as Grady said it would be. With rock music blaring to keep me awake and focused, I take the seventy-five up through Tennessee, bypassing the Carolinas. When I fill up for gas, I get some coffee and load it with milk and sugar. I hate coffee, but it’s the best option I’ve got to keep me going—other than masturbation. I’ve used touching myself many of times on the road before to help keep me awake. The challenge is always keeping yourself on the edge without causing a serious case of blue balls from developing. If you come, then that speeds up the timeframe for needing to actually sleep.

  I stay on the eighty-one heading toward Washington D.C., stopping at a rest stop somewhere in Virginia. Though I want to get to Ivy ask quick as possible, I also know that I need sleep. I can feel the fatigue setting in and know that if I push much more, I’ll get in an accident. Setting the alarm on my phone, I lock the doors and cover my face with my baseball cap for a few hours.

  I’m back on the road after five hours of rest, a good rinse in the bathroom, and some breakfast. I text Grady just before I take off, letting him know where I am and hoping that he might keep me up to date on where Ivy will be. I stop for lunch about an hour north of D.C. and then continue through Maryland where everyone drives slow as shit in every lane. The traffic continues to be a pain all the way through Pennsylvania and New Jersey. Just when I think the worst of the trip is over, I’m wrong when I reach the Lincoln Tunnel. It takes nearly three hours just to cross the fucker.

  It’s been about twenty-two hours since I left Blackburn. I chide myself for resting because it made me get stuck in traffic in several places, forcing me to get to her so late.

  When the roads in New York are hard to navigate. I find a place to park and then take the train or walk as Grady suggests when he texts. The way that everyone is in New York is one big cluster fuck of culture shock. I can see the appeal as well as the hatred people have for it.

  When I get to Ivy’s building, I double check the time and realize that it’s now almost ten at night. I should have fucking flown with how much time it’s taken me to get here. I pace outside her building, trying to decide if I should see if she’s awake or not.

  When twenty minutes pass with me circling the block several times, I head back to the truck and grab my shit to find a place to crash for the night. I don’t want to disrupt her if she’s tired from being at the hospital all day. I don’t even know if she has to go back or not.

  Luckily, there’s a hotel not far from where I parked, so I drive over and get a room. I take a long, hot shower and masturbate to help calm myself. I’m jacked because I’m so tired and because I know that Ivy is not far away. I turn on the television and eventually my eyes close.

  I wake up to my phone alarm going off at eight in the morning. I had thought about getting up earlier, but with the way yesterday went and not wanting to get to Ivy too early, I decided that eight would be a good time. I rinse off while I wait for my room service to arrive. By nine-fifteen, I’m checking out and driving to a parking garage closer to Ivy’s place. I think I park the truck at the place I did yesterday, but I’m not sure. Everything looks the same in this concrete jungle. With my phone in hand, I follow the
map to the closest train station and get on.

  When I come up to street level, I check my phone to see what time it is. I start to panic when I realize I’ve lost two hours. Nervous, I decide to grab something to eat. I’m sure I’m avoiding, but I also know that this situation could be good or bad and it might be good to have food in my stomach. If it’s good, I’m sure that Ivy and I won’t be thinking about food for serval long hours. If it’s not good—I don’t want to think about that.

  Once I’m done eating, I text Grady to make sure that Ivy is home. He writes back asking what took me so long to get here and I explain. Grady gives me Ivy’s phone number just in case. I don’t know why it isn’t until now that I realize I don’t have her number. In the past, Ivy and I didn’t need phones. We talked every day in person and it was only when she went away to college when all that changed.

  I follow someone into the building once I get the courage. One of the staff ask who I’m here to see, and once I offer Ivy’s name, they gesture toward the elevator as if I’ve given the password. I take the stairs since I’m not a fan of elevators and feel more fatigued than ever as I climb up to the fifteenth floor.

  I pace in the hallway, catching my breath, but also trying to figure out what to say to Ivy when she answers. I don’t know why I’m so nervous right now. Sweat accumulates on my hands, so I wipe them on my jeans.

  A few minutes later, my hand lifts and my knuckles crash down on the door harder than I expect. I start to get cold feet, doubting my actions and take a few steps away from the door.

  It suddenly opens and I’m met by a stranger.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I must have the wrong apartment.”

  “Who are you looking for?” she asks as she studies my face.

  “Ivy. Ivy Lynn Abney,” I inform.

  “You’ve come to the right place,” she states. “You’re Henry, right?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I confirm.

  “Don’t call me ma’am,” she directions. “My mother would be a ma’am.”

  “Sorry,” I say.

  “I’m Cece,” she explains, extending her hand with a smile.

  “How are you feeling?” I ask, entering the apartment once we let go of each other’s hand. “You must be doing better if you’re back from the hospital.”

  “Yes,” she replies oddly. Cece turns and starts walking.

  I assume she wants me to follow, so I do.

  “Ivy,” Cece calls. “Ivy…you have a visitor.”

  As we round the corner, I see Ivy, and that’s when my heart stops. She’s got a kid in her arms, holding him as if he belongs to her, and there’s a guy sitting right next to Ivy. He’s right next to her—as in their bodies touching and no space between them. They look like the picture perfect couple.

  “Henry,” Ivy says in a surprised tone.

  “Dada,” the kid says.

  My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. My eyes bounce back and forth between Ivy and the guy. Nausea rises in my stomach and a cold sweat washes over me. I’m unable to process what I’m seeing and feel like I’ve been sucker-punched. Not interested in strangers seeing me breakdown to see me break down, I spin on my heels and dart back for the door. My feet almost fail me twice as I jog down the steps. I faintly hear someone in the background calling my name, but I can’t look back. I wasn’t expecting to find Ivy like this—whatever this is.

  27 Ivy

  “Ivy,” Cece calls. “Ivy…you have a visitor.”

  It takes me a second to hear her and process what she’s saying. Why would she tell me I have a visitor when we’re expecting food to be delivered for lunch?

  Movement out of the corner of my eyes pulls my attention away from my son and I find Henry standing in the living room. I swear I’m seeing things and blink a few times.

  Henry stands there motionless and silent.

  “Henry?” I ask, still not sure if he’s actually here or not.

  “Henry came to see how I was feeling,” Cece states. “You know…since you told him you rushed back here for me.”

  I nod, not sure how to respond to her or what to say to him. This is the last place I’d expect to see Henry, not until we had talked things out.

  Henry stares at me blankly and it’s like neither of us can find the words.

  How do I explain everything, especially in this kind of a situation? I didn’t want it to happen like this. God, there’s no way I wanted Henry to find out like this. I should have told him sooner.

  “Dada,” my son says, causing my heart to break.

  I don’t dare look away from Henry, afraid that he’ll suddenly vanish. My mouth opens to say something, but my brain is frozen in fear.

  Henry’s head starts to shake a little as he begins to step back. It doesn’t take long for Henry’s face to reveal every emotion he’s feeling: shock, anger, sadness, and probably hate. He moves faster than I anticipate, disappearing from view.

  “Henry,” I call, handing my son off to Drew.

  “Should have I not let him in?” Cece checks as she follows me to the door.

  “No…I don’t know…I,” I stutter. I rush to get my shoes on and yank open the door. “Henry!”

  I watch and find that the elevator is going up, so I rush to the stairs. When I get to the railing, I hear his footsteps below me which sound to be a few floors below. “Henry!” I call after him. “Henry, please. Don’t go.” My feet shuffle as quickly as they can while I hold on to the metal railing. “Henry, please, come back. I can explain.”

  I continue to beg him to stop, to give me a chance to tell him what he just saw, barely stopping to take a breath of air as my chest pounds from the anxiety and the physical exertion of running after him. As I take each step, heat and panic rise inside me.

  The only sound that is heard are his footsteps getting softer in the distance.

  Henry’s getting away. Fear washes over me at the notion that I will lose him forever. I just need him to listen and then maybe, just maybe, we still might have a chance to be together. I can’t have him making a decision without knowing the facts.

  “Henry!” I shout. “Please. It’s not what you think!”

  When I get to the fifth floor, knowing that he’s about to leave, I yell, “Henry, please! He’s your son!”

  The door below slams shut and the blast feels like a bullet piercing my heart. My legs wobble a little, but I fight to stay upright. I continue the rest of the way, hoping that he’ll stop or I can catch up. When I get to the lobby, Henry’s nowhere to be found. I rush to the front doors and look both ways when I get outside. My head bounces from side to side as I frantically search for him. My heart continues to shatter into a million, tiny raindrops just like the ones that are already falling from the sky above. I pray to find him but know that there’s a good chance that I won’t. I think I’ve lost him forever.

  I’m not sure how long I stand there, looking back and forth down the street. My eyes scan all the faces everywhere, even the cars, willing him to appear. Thinking I see Henry, I dart back and forth between a few men who look like him from behind. My heart breaks each time when I meet their gaze and realize that they’re not him.

  Tears pour from my eyes like the rain that is soaking me. My heart crumbles, devastated by the idea that I’ve lost my chance. My arms wrap around my body and my legs wobble under me as I continue to search for him, calling out Henry’s name.

  It isn’t until I’m drenched and shivering that I notice that I’m being escorted back into the building by one of the doormen. I’m taken to the elevator and wait for the box to rise as his arms wrap around me in careful comfort. My eyes stay focused on the floor, unable to look anyone in the eye, ashamed at what’s happened.

  I knew that waiting to tell Henry wasn’t a good idea. I just couldn’t find the right time to bring it up, let alone tell him that I have a son—that we have a son. There were always people around us or we were in the middle of having sex.

  As the elevator ascends, my heart con
tinues to crush like tiny pieces of glass beneath my feet. There is no coming back from this. I should have told Henry sooner.

  The warm body removes itself from mine after I’m lead into the hallway. A voice asks a few questions, but I’m too distraught to process them. My head bobs in reply, needing to be left in my misery.

  Moments later, my legs give out and my body falls to the floor. Sadness floods my body like the rains flooding the Georgia rivers as the pain swallows me whole below its current. I surrender to the searing ache, knowing that I deserve it. There is no one to blame for what has happened other than myself.

  “Ivy,” a familiar person calls in the distance. “Ivy.”

  Movement is barely noticed in my blurry line of sight as tears continue to fall.

  “Ivy, honey. What happened?” the person requests.

  My head shakes as my voice is unable to answer.

  “Ivy,” the person commands, louder this time. “How long have you been out here?”

  My eyes lift, and after a few seconds, I see Cece’s face come into focus.

  “Why are you wet?” Cece asks with concern laced in her tone as she tries to get me to stand. “Drew!”

  “Yeah?” a man’s voice replies.

  “I need your help,” Cece states.

  “What the…” Drew says when our eyes meet. “Ivy, hon. What the hell happened?”

  My body aches and has trouble complying with their demand for me to move. The pain in my chest is too great and I fear that If I try to move, my body will fall apart. I feel them both try to hoist me up, but my body won’t budge.

  “I got her,” Drew directs, lifting me up in his arms.

  “She’s as cold as ice,” Cece states as her warm hand blankets my forehead.

  The echo of a door closing behind me is heard as a child’s voice keeps shouting Mama. My eyes squint to the bright light that surrounds me.

  “I’ll draw her a bath,” Cece states as I hear water begin flowing.

  “Henry,” I utter, followed by sobs.

  “Mama,” my son says.

  I look over and find him standing in the doorway to the bathroom. I start to cry again, realizing that I’ve lost the chance for my son to ever know his father. I look away, ashamed and trying to hide my tears.