Saving Georgia

by Kristin Flynn

  “OK” she sighs with a bit of relief. “Do you think you would want to go shopping” She asked all excitedly. I guess my statement elevated any concerns she had.

  “OK. Let’s go to Crabtree Valley Mall in Raleigh. We’ll make a day of it on Thursday. We can get our hair done. You can invite Harper. Thank goodness for teacher work days right?” I offer. How could I turn down spending time with my bestie?

  “Right! Yes! Oh gosh, that is a great idea. I’ll go call Harper now!” And as soon as she appeared, she is gone.

  Confused, I put my guitar away and laid on my bed listening to Kenny Chesney and then Lady Antebellum. Country music calms me down. I rolled over and stared at the picture of my mother on my nightstand admiring her gorgeous blonde curls, her pearly white smile. Sometimes I wish she was here to teach me things, like cooking, or the right way to hem a dress. I also wish I had a date that my father could scare off, but I know that would never happen. For one it’s not like I have many gentlemen callers and my father has long since been gone.

  Sometimes it just gets me mad as fire seeing Jennifer fight with her parents, taking their unconditional love for granted, and fully believing that there is always a tomorrow to make up. She has a daddy to snuggle up to, and let her know that everything is going to be alright. She has a mom to teach her how to make granny’s peach cobbler, how to be a lady and make a proper place setting. I have folktales of my parents, a foggy memory and faded pictures worn from my fingers tracing outlines of jaws and crow’s feet. I never knew what my daddy’s voice sounded like or how he smelled. I don’t know if he was right handed or left handed, or how he took his coffee. I can’t tell you how he laughed, or what made him angry. I never got a chance to discover any of these important idiosyncrasies. Most importantly I never got a chance to tell him ‘I love you.’

  Though I had more ample time with my mother – still the chance for memories was short lived. I remember her smile, her scent and her laugh; that I will always treasure. However, I didn’t have enough time to make her proud of me; though I am sure she was already proud of me, I am talking about honest and earned pride. I don’t have her to share boy talk with, to show me how to make a cake or the correct way to debone a fish. She won’t be around to help me plan a wedding, if there ever will be one, or to help me prepare for a baby. She can’t help me mend a broken heart, or see me cross that stage at graduation.

  I don’t even get to have nice dreams at night; I just think what it would be like to be a grown family. Taking vacations together, playing games on family game night. I am robbed of all of that. If I have any dreams at all, and trust me I love the nights when I don’t, they belong to the only person I have ever come to hate. The pure, unadulterated hell that man put me through is too painful to remember consciously, or so my therapist says.

  Hesitatingly, I glance at the clock and I know it’s late enough to regret glancing and seeing how much sleep I just wasted being awake and depressed. I closed my eyes and softly drift into a thankfully empty slumber.

  The next morning I slip easily into my standard routine. Jenn rode into school with me, and as we pull into the parking lot we ran into Jason Grimes.

  “Morning ladies.” Jason said, carrying his baseball gear and backpack across the parking lot.

  “Hey Jason” Jenn answered for us, linking her arm gracefully into mine. I can’t believe he is talking to us. OK, sure I get that he would talk to Jenn, I mean she is a walking, talking, more than life real brunette Barbie doll.

  “Nice wheels, Georgia.” Jason said, then turning to Jenn, “You look great, both of you, ladies.”

  Holy cow! Two compliments from Jason- freaking-Grimes! My head is swimming. Jenn leans into me, instinctively to hold me up.

  “Thanks” I mutter as a natural reflex, and frankly that is all I have to offer.

  He nods in recognition and moves along in his beautiful, masculine and brute way. How can anything so simple render me with limp legs and a spastic heartbeat, painting my cheeks with a faint crimson? This can’t be normal.

  “Easy Georgia, it’s just a stupid, silly boy.” Jenn sounds in my ear her worldly wisdom.

  “But he said I look nice” I whispered.

  “As you do, but he is still a stupid boy.” Jennifer pushes.

  Somehow I made it to my lit class, and was an active participant at that. It dawned on me that I had to go to work today for a few hours, and it was payday!

  All my classes ran together like a blur. Concentration wasn’t an art well practiced today at all, except the way Jason looked in those jeans, or his short, spiky blonde hair. Oh! And those dreamy big blue eyes, and insanely long eyelashes. His perfect golden tan, and big taut muscles. Now, that was a subject I could concentrate on.

  At lunch Misty found Shane and I. She kept sounding off on the need to rehearse, which she is right, I just have to work tonight.

  “Georgia, this is imperative!” She squawks at me.

  “I get that Misty, but so is being gainfully employed.” I hiss at her.

  “We will be fine. We will all buckle down tomorrow Misty. Cool your pants off.” Shane insists. Shane to the rescue!

  “We darn well better y’all!” Misty barks out. She can get so southern when she is angry. She took a stance that must have taken every bit of seriousness she could muster up.

  I am starting to resent getting roped into this. Come to think of it, I am not sure how I got hoodwinked into doing the graduation performance. Shane is the part that made all of this bearable. Plus, the three of us do have an uncanny musical chemistry. Our harmonies and melodies are something to behold, plus we are each talented guitarists. The three of us prefer electric acoustics. Although I own an Ibanez, I am more of a Gibson girl at heart. Shane has a Fender Hellcat that is his mess around toy, which can take a beating or two, but his pride and joy is his Gibson Hummingbird. Misty has an Epiphone Fingerstyle acoustic that she loves and a Taylor that she uses exclusively for performances. Now, my Annalise is a Gibson SJ-200 Super Jumbo with the vintage sunburst. It’s gorgeous!

  Combined we make one beautiful sound. Our voices tangled in one melodic web of pitches high and low. Honestly, it’s a great and beautiful escape. Music is a great release from the darkness of reality. It’s a safe place, controllable and given to me by God. The only time I have rhythm and grace is behind my guitar. I could swear that bass notes and clefs are part of my DNA. Rumor had it that my daddy was an ax man, and that would surely explain a lot about me. Either way, I know that our performance will be nothing short of remarkable.

  “Georgia, you with us?” Shane asks with a silly look on his face.

  “In some aspect, I am sure.” I smile.

  “Alright then.” Shane shrugs, almost indifferently.

  “I was thinking about how wonderful and absolutely delightful we will sound on stage.” I gush.

  “Mmm hmm. I agree.” Misty states with so much conviction, it’s like a presidential debate winning statement.

  “It’ll sure be something.” Shane croons. “We have sure come a long way.” He said with a hint of notable nostalgia in his voice.

  Our choir instructor from church threw the three of us together a few years back. Shane and I always played guitar together since we were kids. Our teacher put us three together for a summer pageant and it went so well that we, the church that is, sent a tape to a church in Massachusetts that was hosting some national Christmas festival of sorts. We joked about how that was our Baptist pilgrimage.

  “Been awhile since the Ave Maria, indeed. Now we can do the music that we want to.” Shane spurted out.

  “Agreed.” I chimed in, because frankly, the boy is right.

  After school I hustled down to Robertson’s feed store. Between customers I’m usually able to get some homework done.

  I was unloading some chicken scratch and stacking it up in a corner so Mr. Robertson didn’t have to do it when he came back this evening. Suddenly I felt a pair of eyes on me. I froze, feeling the whole f
ight or flight thing I’ve heard so much about.

  “Please, don’t stop on my account. I was enjoying the view.” A smooth and sultry voice from behind called out. I blushed instantly and turned around.

  “Jason. “ I gasp. “How can I help you?” I spat out as a reflex. What is Jason Grimes doing here?

  “Actually, I am picking up some chicken feed for my daddy.” He smiled giving me a wink.

  “Oh! Well, grab yourself a bag and I will ring you up.” I offered.

  “Actually, coach needs me to rest my shoulder for the game. Could you grab it by chance?” He winced, grabbing his shoulder. I don’t know if I believe him or not, or I was just that captivated by his intoxicating smile, eyes and musk that I caved and grabbed a bag and rang him up.

  “So you’re going to be at Harper’s party on Friday, right?” He asked as I carried the bag to his truck.

  “Yes. I will be there.”

  “OK, good. I was hoping to hear you say that.” He said leaning into me, pushing me against the truck. He is so close to me. His thighs are against mine. His arms are atop my shoulders.

  “Oh?” I blinked, dumbfounded.

  “Yes very much so, Georgia.” He whispers to me, moving my hair from my face to behind my ear. Holy crow! What is happening? His big, strong hands are somehow soft and gentle against my skin. A smile creeps across his lips, and mine are quick to follow. His eyes instantly become hooded. Doesn’t this stuff only happen in movies? I don’t know how my knees are holding me up. And just like that his arms are around me, his lips crashing into mine. His sweet breath passed into my lungs, his hands gripping a firm hold into my hair. My lips push back in heated response. I’m in a hot, tangled Jason Grimes mess. My skin is singing with a tingling sensation. I’m pretty sure he is supporting my whole body weight right this very moment, but yet I am pretty certain that he does not mind. Somehow my conscience speaks up at the most inopportune time. Stuff it conscience! His hands are dancing across my heated, golden flesh, pulling at anything he can. It’s starting to get a little wild and instinctively I shy away and put up a small resistance.

  “I need to get back to work, Jason.” I whisper between swollen lips.

  “Oh. OK.” He sighs, knowing that he has been defeated. “But Georgia,” he starts, turning to face me as I turn back to the store. He props himself up before he gets into his truck “I didn’t need any chicken feed.” And he leaves me with that.

  I am stunned, dumbfounded, and bereft. My breath and heart rate are at an alarming pace. I put my fingers to my pleasantly assaulted lips. Subconsciously I look for battle scars. I am uncertain if this foolish smile has staked permanent residence on my plain Jane face.

  I want to tell someone, but who could I possibly tell? Somehow I don’t think this is appropriate conversational matter for Shane and I. Misty would prefer to scold me than to let me banter on and on, and Jenn… well, maybe; but conversations with her lately seem to have been taking an even more awkward turn than normal as of late. If I run into her then maybe I can dish this out. How did this happen? I can’t seem to wrap my brain around this. Jason Grimes kissed me. Of all people, me! On what peculiar planet, or universe rather does this happen? None of this adds up at all to me. One minute I’m performing manual labor work, and then next I am slammed up against a Silverado, being pawed at like I’m wearing a meat suit in a lion’s den.

  I got to stop thinking about all of this, but the question is how do I stop thinking about this? I can still feel his hands hungrily grasping my hair and skimming my waist. I can smell him in my clothes. I don’t think my skin is even back to its proper pigmentation. I caught the time by chance and about fell out. Mr. Robertson should be here any minute. I need to get the feed finished.

  Relatively speaking, the rest of my shift was down right boring. I rushed home and swiftly went into my bedroom and gave myself a good, long hard look into the mirror. What was it about me that could have provoked him? My hair is, as ever faithfully a mess of blonde curls on my head. Nothing else, or anything about me screams ‘America’s Next Top Model.’ Why me? Why not Jenn? She’s got to be one of the most beautiful girls I have ever seen in my life.

  With one last look, I grabbed some pajamas and made my way to take a shower. I was hoping my wandering mind would wash off and circle the drain, but I keep reliving every single Jason-filled moment.

  I must be translucent. I ran into Jenn in the hallway and she knew something was amiss.

  “Why are you grinning ear to ear Georgia?” Jenn asked.

  “I’m not grinning.” I state in protest.

  “Girl, you look like you’ve done won the lottery. C’mon now, what is it?” Jenn insisted with a large smile of her own.

  “Jason came into the store today.” I blushed.

  “And that’s why you’re smiling? A stupid boy walked into your store?”

  “Well, no…” I started, and I could feel the stupid tell-tale grin grow bigger on my face. “I was putting the chicken feed in his truck and he kissed me.” I blurted out.

  “Oh shut up! No wonder you’re lit up like the fourth of July.” She gushes. “Was it everything you thought it would be? Your first kiss?”

  “I’m still trying to process it.” I admitted.

  “Oh I am sure. Heck, I am surprised you didn’t hurt him. You didn’t… hurt him, did you?” She asked.

  “No, I didn’t.” I stated sullenly. Thinking about that really got me going. I’ve never been in a romantic type of situation before, or close intimate situation of this caliber and given my past I’m unsure of exactly how the nature-nurture and human instinct process worked in my overly processed mind. How could I have been so careless?

  I am sure Jenn knew she tapped into something she should leave well enough alone, because she quietly retreated back to her room.

  I turned into my room and plopped myself on the bed and stared at the ceiling for what seemed like, I don’t know, forever maybe?

  A buzzing noise broke my concentration

  If it gets much hotter, I’m going to start going to school in Elmo and Spongebob boxers.

  Shane

  Just what I needed, comedic relief to the rescue of the ump degree! My thumbs make quick of the keypad.

  I don’t think anyone would appreciate that

  *G*

  I press send and giggle to myself. Quickly my phone buzzes again.

  Hey now! It’s my chicken legs, isn’t it?

  Shane

  I laughed to myself, cut the lights off and called it a night. That’s enough thinking for today.

  Chapter 3

  The morning woke me gracefully, with the sun pouring into my room. My heart rate was mellowed, finally, after topping yesterday. I still feel the smile playing across my lips, which no longer look bee-stung. So far Wednesday is shaping up fairly nicely. I made my way to the bathroom and just on a whimsical note, I asked Jenn to put some makeup on me, give me a new look for the day.

  “Oh Georgy! I’d love too! Challenge accepted!”

  “Challenge? Is it that impossible?”

  “Don’t be silly, I’m just excited! Come! Sit!” Jenn pushes and she grabs me and pulls me into the bathroom. She doesn’t hesitate and goes straight to work, plucking, and pinching, sweeping, and brushing all over my face. Glops of foundation poured onto a sponge and swiped across my face felt rather repulsive honestly. This is rather tedious and time consuming, and I wonder why she does this every morning. She dusted my eyelids, smudged eyeliner and I thought she was going to attack me when it got to the mascara. Truly this is something I’d never do on my own, and I don’t know what made me think this was a good idea. Once she was done painting a Picasso on my face, she wanted to do my hair.

  “Excuse me? You want to do what to my hair?” I slam in protest.

  “Flat iron it.” Jenn says, so matter-of-factly like this is something normal.

  “As on an ironing board and everything? I don’t think so!” I almost stomped my feet.

>   “No, no Georgia. It looks like a crimper or a curling iron, just flat.”

  “Oh… Still, I don’t know…” I trail off in bewilderment. “Can we hold off on that, maybe we can try that for the party. Just pin it up or something?” I offer.

  “OK, that’s a solid compromise. I don’t think we have time to flat iron all of your hair now that I am getting a good look at it.” She says, analyzing everything on my head and playing with my hair. It’s so calming having people play with your hair, I could fall asleep.

  After about 4 more minutes, she was done and I was free to look in the mirror.

  “Oh my gosh! I look so different!” I shriek in disbelief.

  “Do you like it Georgy?” Jenn was almost scared of my reaction I think.

  “Yes, definitely, I don’t look too overdone like some of those other girls, thankfully! I just can’t stop looking at myself, it’s insane, I feel… I don’t know how I feel…” I mutter in shock

  “Pretty?” Jenn offers in such a sweet tone, it was comforting.

  “Yes. I feel pretty.” I can’t wait to see the look on Harper Kelly’s face when she gets a good look at this. Or Jason, oh gosh, I hope he likes it too. Now I am getting nervous.

  Quickly I ran and threw an outfit together, something just slightly out of the norm for me, and yet still keeping true to my country roots. I can’t believe everything that is happening so fast; graduation, my imminent independence, boy issues. It’s enough to drive any sane girl mad! I don’t know if I could take anymore stressors, good or bad. And then there is prom! Oh my gosh, prom. I got to get my mind off of all of this.

  At school, everyone seemed to notice me, which at first I have to admit I wasn’t comfortable with. Shane kept looking at me and he looked more confused that I am. Misty did throw me a bone though; she said I looked nice and sophisticated. I just wish I felt more comfortable in my own skin, painted or not.