Boop jolted into acute consciousness as if waking up from a deep sleep, aware of the hum of the machines, the beeping of Georgia’s life, the hospital-scented air sneaking beneath her blanket shawl. “I thought you said Abe came to see me on my wedding day.” She slapped her hand through the air. “But obviously that can’t be true.”
In cinematic slow motion, or maybe it was all the motion she could muster, Georgia traced an invisible X on her chest with a shaky index finger.
The childlike display burrowed deep into Boop’s memory, a catalog of girlhood promises tumbling forward. Crossing one’s heart wasn’t done in jest.
“You can’t mean that.”
Georgia remained silent and looked away, her hand covering her mouth again. Her lack of response was enough.
Abe had come back.
A small, dry lump lodged in Boop’s throat. If she spoke, she’d scream or cry. She wasn’t going to make a scene. Not in a hospital. She kept her admonitions and questions inside. She didn’t want to look at Georgia, let alone talk to her. Not then. Not when minutes earlier Boop had been crushed at the thought that her best friend was going to die, once again someone leaving her behind. She wanted to leave Georgia behind, as quickly as possible. This news, these feelings, shattered everything Boop thought she knew about herself and about Georgia. And it was all wrong.
“How dare you!” Boop whispered, but her tone was icy and accusatory. “I just asked you about him and still, nothing.”
Georgia still did not make eye contact. “I’m sorry but I’m also not sorry. You had a wonderful life.”
Georgia had said these exact words throughout the years. Boop had believed it was her friend’s loving observation, but, if the pronouncement about Abe was true, that statement had been only a salve for her guilt.
Boop trembled. “When could this possibly have happened? You were with me until minutes before the ceremony.”
“The doorbell rang . . .”
Bile edged the back of Boop’s throat. “And you went downstairs to answer the door.”
Georgia nodded. “But your grandfather got there first and sent him away, told him you were getting married and not to bother you again. Your grandfather saw me and told me not to tell you. That Marvin would give you and the baby the life you deserved.” Georgia gasped and words interspersed with breaths. Boop didn’t care that Georgia was sad or struggling. In that moment, her well-being ceased to matter. “I believed him.”
Boop couldn’t move, though she wished she could run. Her eyes stung as they filled with tears and she tried to keep them from spilling down her cheeks, to no avail. “Did he see you? Did he say anything?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Georgia said.
“You don’t get to decide what matters anymore. Did he say anything?”
Georgia nodded. “He said, ‘Tell Betty I love her.’”
Boop doubled over, heartache spreading through her, hot and rampant like a wildfire.
“Why didn’t you go after him?” she yelled.
“You were getting married.”
Boop covered her face with her hands. “I was getting married because I thought he didn’t love me.”
When Boop lowered her hands and looked at Georgia, she saw that tears had soaked her face.
“I’m sorry,” Georgia said.
“No, you’re not. This is all part of my wonderful life, right?” Boop stood and backed away. “Hannah!” she shouted.
Hannah ran into Georgia’s room. “What’s the matter? Do you need me to get the nurse?”
“No. I want you to get a psychiatrist. Georgia has lost her mind.”
Chapter 19
BOOP
Back at home, Boop pulled her suitcase out of the closet, lifted out shirts, dresses, and pants, and threw them in without any pairing ritual, forethought, or coordinating lipsticks. She retrieved the empty tackle box and zipped it into the compartment meant for shoes, or a blow-dryer, or another bulky necessity. She could have removed photos from the walls or tucked in an old photo album or cookbook of Nannie’s, but Boop wanted the box.
Now it really was all she had left.
She didn’t want to stay in the place Georgia had betrayed her in the past and then again in the present. Why tell Boop now? To assuage her own guilt, she supposed. To get her into heaven. Harboring the secret was cowardice at first. Telling it decades later was selfish.
“What are you doing?” Hannah stepped into the room and removed items from the suitcase one by one. Boop replaced them one by one.
“I’m leaving,” Boop said.
“And going where?”
Boop stopped moving, hands full of pants. Linen, cotton, gauze. The fabrics reminded her that she had always been quick to embrace appropriate fashion—for the times, the situation, the weather.
But where was she going and what would she need there? They’d all told her what to pack when she left South Haven the last time. She had her trousseau and a steamer trunk with dresses and twinsets, shoes, and accessories chosen by Nannie. Boop had insisted on taking her dancing-ballerina jewelry box, and a binder with her recipe heritage, one she’d rarely used.
“How can I stay?” She looked to Hannah for an actual answer. Not only had Georgia broken Boop’s heart, but she’d broken their friendship. Boop was disillusioned and angry—so much more hurt than she would have been if Georgia had died from that fall. At least that wouldn’t have willingly removed herself from Boop’s life. And to top it off, Boop would miss Georgia. Damn her.
Hannah lifted the collection of pants from Boop’s hands.
“Oh my goodness,” Boop said. “You were supposed to go home and talk to Clark.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“You have to go. You owe it to yourself. I missed my chance but you don’t have to.”
“I texted Clark and told him what happened and told him I’d like to talk when I come back. That’s good enough.”
“Good enough is not enough for you. I want you to go.”
She would
