Hook-Ups and Hang-Ups: A Swamp Bottom Novella Page 9

  She didn’t even blink. “Do you honestly believe that I’m disappointed in you?”

  “Well, aren't you?” I wasn’t sure if it were possible for any functioning adult not to be disappointed in me. Hell, I was disappointed in me.

  “Heavens no!” She reached over and took my free hand in hers, giving me a comforting pat. “Darling, you are adventurous, free spirited, and so spontaneous. I’m jealous. I’d kill for just a teeny bit of your courage.”

  Mama say what?

  I looked around the room as if I were searching for cameras. “Am I getting Punk’d?”

  After years of experience with my antics, my mother just ignored me and continued. “Now, do I wish that you'd swear a little less and maybe try to act like a God-fearing woman? Of course, but that doesn't mean I'm not proud of you for setting out to carve your own path and saying, ‘screw you, dude’ to anyone who doesn’t like it.”

  My jaw about hit the floor. That ‘screw you’ was the closest thing to a curse that I’d ever heard come out of my mama’s mouth.

  “Wow, I guess I didn't think you thought that highly of me.”

  “Oh, child, you and your sister are the apples of my eye. I’m equally proud of both of you, but you’ve always been different. Even as a little girl, you marched to the beat of your own drum. I'm not saying it was easy bringing you up, but I knew God gave me you for a reason. It was to teach me patience and understanding.”

  “Yeah, how’d that work out for you? If I recall, your patience and understanding cost you a tractor and a shrimp boat at one point.”

  She closed her eyes briefly, and I couldn’t help but wonder if she’d taught that coping mechanism to Addie. She did a lot of that pausing and breathing shit around me.

  “I’d blocked that tractor incident out for ten years, so thank you for reminding me.”

  Jostling her with my elbow, I wiggled my eyebrows. “Was that sarcasm? Did my mama just throw a little shade?”

  “Lord have mercy, are you going to let me have this moment or not?”

  It’s your mama, don’t be an asshole.

  “Sorry.” I pretended to lock up my mouth and throw away the key, but she wasn’t amused.

  “Where was I? Oh right, even when you were little, you were so free and fierce. Oh my, were you fierce. I knew you were never going to be a doctor or a lawyer; you’d never be content living a life like that. What I did know was that whatever you did, you’d be passionate about it, and you’d live life to the absolute fullest. Not everyone can say that Savannah. Some of the richest and most successful people on the planet are empty inside. Sure, on paper they’ve got it all figured out, but their life is confined to four office walls. You've always been a bit of a wanderer, seeking your next adventure. However, I’ve got to admit that the woman you've become is someone special, and someone to be proud of.”

  I felt the tears welling in my eyes, and I forced out a pathetic laugh. “Well, shit, woman, you sure know how to make a girl feel special.”

  My mother threw back her head and raised her hands in a praying gesture. “Lord help me!”

  I reached out and gave her a one-armed hug, balancing my coffee cup on my knee. “Thanks, Mama, I needed that.”

  “Are you ready for breakfast? The bacon is getting cold.”

  God, she was good. Maybe it was because she gestated me for nine months and wrangled me for another eighteen years, but somehow, she knew I couldn’t take any more of the heavy on an empty stomach.

  “Yeah, I’m starved.”

  The ancient, warped floorboards creaked as Babs made her way down the hall. “Is love orgy over now? I come out?”

  “Sure thing, I'm just fixin’ up breakfast. Are you hungry?” Mama asked, her voice sweet at molasses. Her patience with Babs was otherworldly, especially since the older woman seemed to get off on deliberately fucking with my mother.

  “Is there bacon?” Babs asked. “The crispy kind not wet soggy-cock kind.”

  “Yes ma'am, I made yours extra crispy just like you like it.”

  Babs nodded and then stopped mid-shuffle. “Shit. I have to put good teeth in.”

  Mama piled enough food onto my plate to feed Bam-Bam for an entire day. Due to an unfortunate incident during Pappy's wake that included several feisty members of the church elder choir and a gallon of hot sauce from the Piggly Wiggly, Babs didn't have a dining table. I shivered at the memory. Because of the absence of said dining table, the three of us sat in the living room balancing our plates on our knees and eating in an uncomfortable silence.

  Picking up a piece of bacon, I paused and winced as I turned to Kevin. Typically, I tried to avoid eating pork products in front of him. “Sorry, bud, but I need this more than I care about your feelings right now.”

  “So, you want to tell me what had you driving all the way home in the middle of the night? I assume it was the same thing that had your grandmother calling to inform me you might be dead on her couch, because you drank your weight in vodka?”

  I'd known it was coming; I’d just hoped to avoid it for as long as humanly possible. But my mother, while sweet and innocent on the outside, was a deviant mastermind. I'd been sitting on the couch so long that my thighs were vacuum sealed to the plastic covering and there was nowhere to run.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Babs reach into the knitting basket beside her armchair and pull out a tiny bottle of vodka. With a smile, she poured the contents into her coffee cup. She’d clearly settled in for the show. Relenting to my fate, I unloaded the whole sordid tale about the picture Kevin had found, Pope’s unwillingness to introduce me to his family, and finally, what had happened at the barbecue.

  Cue the violins.

  My mother covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh my, what did he say?”

  I crinkled up my face, confused. “What do you mean ‘what did he say?’”

  She raised a quizzical brow. “When you asked him about his parents, he had told you that they were out of town. The young man at the barbecue contradicted that, so what did he say when you talked to him about it?”

  I blinked. I had a feeling the next answer to come out of my mouth wasn’t going to be the one she wanted to hear. “I didn't. I just left and came here.”

  Her eyelids closed, and I could hear the gears grinding in her head. “Oh Savannah, you didn't. You didn't even wait to get his side of the story?”

  “Why would I? It's just gonna be more lies.”

  Mama was not impressed. Straightening her shoulders, she folded her hands in her lap before pinning me with a stern stare. “What if they came back early?”

  I threw my hands in the air, frustrated that, again, no one saw the situation from my side. “What does it matter? Even if they did come home early, he would've known and still didn't tell me. A lie of omission is still a lie.”

  “Hmm.” Mama’s understanding and kind face had turned into one of judgment.

  Oh shit, here we go.

  “Sounds to me like you're just looking for an excuse to cause trouble. So, tell me, Savannah, what are you really afraid of?”

  I gripped my coffee mug so tightly I feared it would break. “How did this become about me? He's the one that lied.”

  “You don't know because you don’t ask,” Babs chimed in.

  “Take it from two women who have collectively been married for close to a hundred years,” Mama lectured. “You’re jumping to conclusions because you've already predicted the outcome of your relationship. You're just looking for an excuse not to try so you won’t get hurt. You need to ask yourself this; do you want to be with Pope or not? Because the only thing standing in your way is you.”

  Et tu, Brute? I do believe I just got served.

  “I want to be with him,” I admitted sheepishly.

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “Yes.”

  Mama didn’t let up. “Then what's the problem?”

  “I think he's embarrassed by me,” I blurted it out. It took a minute
for it to sink in. That really was the root of the problem. I worried that the reason Pope didn't want to introduce me to his family was that he didn't want them to know he’d been slumming it with swamp trash.

  She stood from the couch and straightened her skirt. “Mmmhmm sounds like you have a few things to think about. I've got to head over to the church, but I'll be back later this afternoon to check on you. Okay, sweet thing?”

  “Yeah, Mama, thanks.”

  She dropped a kiss on the top of my head before sashaying out the door like she hadn't just dropped a bomb of epic proportions right on top of my goddamn head.

  I'd had the coffee and grease from the bacon; I just needed that little extra something to pull me completely out of my hangover. I search the cabinets, not caring that I let them slam behind me until I found what I was looking for—a can of Funfetti frosting.

  Just what the doctor ordered.

  Grabbing a knife from the drawer, I shuffled my way to the front porch. Just as I plopped my happy ass down and shoved a spoonful of sugar and red dye number five in my mouth, a hissing noise sounded behind me. I jumped like my ass was on fire and spun to see Fluffy's sharp teeth and beady little gator eyes staring at me through the porch railing.

  "Christ on a cracker!"

  He'd ninjaed up behind me and if it weren’t for the rickety railing, he probably would've bitten my head off. The little fucker had murderer tattooed all over his reptilian face.

  Storming back into the house, I shouted for my grandmother. "Babs! Where's the shotgun? I'm going to kill your little fiend before he eats me."

  She popped her head out from the kitchen. "Why you bitch so loud?"

  I rolled my eyes and flopped onto the sticky plastic couch. "Because your little pet gator just tried to bite my face off."

  "He get you? I get vodka; it will make better."

  I sighed. Maybe Addie had a point. Maybe I did tend to overreact just a teeny bit. "He didn't actually bite me. He just scared the ever-loving shit out of me."

  Babs harumphed and disappeared back into the kitchen mumbling to herself. "Pussy."

  "What was that?"

  Instead of pretending like she hadn't said anything like a normal person, Babs barreled back out of the kitchen and pointed at crooked finger at me. "I call you big, fat, gaping pussy. You raised in swamp whole life and afraid of little baby gator."

  "Little? He's fucking six feet long!"

  "Bah! Still baby. Teeth not yet break bones—harmless."

  "Whatever, as long as he stays out there. I don't want him seeing Kevin and getting pork fever."

  She waved me off and turned back to whatever she was doing in the kitchen. "In Russia, we wrestle bears for vodka. Americans too soft."

  I leaned back and flipped on the TV, prepared to spend the day wallowing and watching Dr. Phil talk nonsense at a teenager who thought her unborn child was the antichrist.

  Because that was what any well-adjusted, twenty-five-year-old woman would do; sit on her grandmother's couch eating junk food and watch daytime television on a Tuesday afternoon.

  I'd deal with the remnants of my shattered heart tomorrow. I just needed a mental health day…and maybe some vodka.

  7

  Liquid Courage

  Adelaide

  Somewhere on I-310 toward Terrebonne Parish, Louisiana

  The next morning, I found myself driving southwest down I-310, attempting to decipher my grandmother’s garbled curses as Pope sulked beside me in the passenger’s seat. After forcing Zep to go home, I’d dragged a dazed Pope off my front porch and blew up Savannah’s phone with a string of unanswered calls and texts. I’d just hung up from call number ten and prepared to dive into text number fifteen when she’d finally called back to say she’d driven back to Terrebonne, and to stop being a stalker.

  Says the woman who lost her shit over a photo.

  I’d listened to all she had to say, then promptly called Pope to come pick me up. Without a word, we’d jumped in his squad car and hit the road. Savannah was about to mess up a good thing with Pope, and it was my job as her big sister to drive to Terrebonne and knock some sense into her.

  But first, I needed backup.

  “Keep her busy, Babs,” I instructed, balancing my phone between my chin and my shoulder as I changed lanes. “And don’t tell her we’re coming. You know she’s a flight risk.”

  “Yes, I know how to handle my Savvy,” she replied as I heard the front door slam and the creak of her old rocking chair. “Since you are out, stop by store. I buy you vodka.”

  “I don’t want any vodka,” I said, eyeing Pope as he jabbed random buttons on the radio with a tight jaw and flared nostrils.

  “Okay, since you go anyway, bring me some.”

  “What the—you know what? Never mind.” Deciding not to pick an argument with my grandmother, I couldn’t help but wonder how my sister had handled the inquisition I was sure she’d faced from my mother. Considering the constant lack of privacy Dubois dwellings offered, I imagined it went over like the proverbial fart in church. “What’s she doing?”

  “Being pain in ass.” Babs never minced words.

  “Shocker.”

  “You know your sister. She no trust easy. When she think she will get hurt, she split like refugee. Be careful with her, Addie. You come in with bitch-face and tell her what to do; she tell you to suck her ass.”

  “Kiss her ass,” I corrected, lifting an eyebrow at Pope as he pounded his fist against the radio buttons again.

  “That too.”

  The conversation had gone on long enough. To make it home with Pope’s car fully intact, I needed to end the call and diffuse the ball of anxiety sitting beside me before he demolished the dashboard. “I’ll call when I’m near Terrebonne, all right?”

  Silence filled the line as Babs rattled a disapproving grumble at my dismissal. “How is bearded clam digger?”

  Oh hell no. We are not having this conversation right now.

  “Not now, Babs.”

  “Fine. I wait until you get home with vodka.” Then, seemingly struck with inspiration, she added, “You need doll?”

  Yes. One for each day of the week.

  “No, no more voodoo dolls, Babs. You need to find a new hobby.”

  With a grunt, she reminded me not to forget the vodka and hung up. Guilt ate at me. I should’ve told Babs I wasn’t coming alone, but I had no clue what story Savvy had spun to her. I wasn’t entirely positive that newly whittled Pope voodoo dolls weren’t hung around the house by their necks. The poor guy hadn’t officially been immersed into the Dubois special brand of crazy yet, and I wanted to preserve his innocence for as long as possible.

  “Your grandmother practices voodoo?” Pope asked, sporting an impressive deer in the headlights look.

  I shook my head. “Not important.”

  I pressed the gas pedal a little harder as the driver of an oversized SUV zoomed past us and glared at me while flipping me off. Seemingly satisfied with my pathetic answer, Pope turned the radio to four different stations before turning it off the moment a bubblegum pop singer asked his fictional woman if it was too late to say sorry. Glaring out the window, he swore and punched the glass.

  This is worse than I thought.

  “Hey, what did Bieber ever do to you?”

  “Why does every damn song have to remind me of her? I didn’t listen to that shit when I’d spend hours driving around on patrol. Is every song created about love or fucking losing love? Don’t stations play songs about asses or thongs anymore?”

  Whoa, unhinged boyfriend, party of one—your table is now available.

  “Calm down, Pope. You can’t go into my grandmother’s house full throttle like this. Babs has a shotgun, you know.”

  “Why are you driving my car?”

  “Because I’m the designated sane monkey in this circus.”

  Wrinkling his forehead, he clasped his fidgeting hands in his lap. “I feel like an asshole sitting in the passenger’s seat
, Addie. I don’t know what to do with myself. I should be driving. Men drive when they’re upset. Women do shit like—I don’t know…bake. Why couldn’t you have baked and let me drive?”

  I rolled my eyes at him. “You are way too upset to get behind the wheel, dude. Besides, knowing how you and my sister operate, you’d do something crazy like turn on the siren and drive through the front yard. Tipping Savannah off before we corner her is a surefire way to end your conversation in a hot minute. We need the element of surprise on our side.” Determined to distract him, I wiggled my eyebrows and grinned. “Anyway, did you see the way you parked this car in my driveway, Dale Earnhardt, Jr?”

  “Whatever.”

  Pleased with how I’d managed to diffuse an irate police officer in his own car, I gave myself a mental pat on the back.

  Round one…Addie.

  Determined to keep his mind occupied, I wracked my brain for a Savannah-free topic of conversation when my phone chimed with an incoming text. Snatching it from the cup holder, I bounced my eyes from the highway to the words, staring at them in silence.

  Zep: Where the fuck are you?

  Darkening the screen, I tossed it back and fumed. Things were already strained between us after what happened at the creek, and his steel look when I threw him out of my house informed me that we weren’t done. He’d texted me non-stop since peeling out of my driveway. The messages started out concerned and quickly devolved into a tirade of F-bombs and inquiries about my desire to truly make him lose his shit. Eventually, I’d have to deal with him, but for now, I had a strict one irrational alpha male per hour policy.

  “What if I’ve lost her, Addie?” Pope asked, breaking through my jumbled thoughts.

  Deciding the best defense to his crazy was a solid offense, I tossed out a challenge. “Would that be the end of the world?”

  His face contorted in horror. “What? Of course, it would! Look, I know Savvy and I have only been together a few months, but this is the real thing. I feel it.”

  I wanted to push him to tell me exactly what went down at the barbecue, but he wasn’t ready. If I came on too strong, he’d shut me out, and he and Savannah would end up arguing until one of them walked away.