-1-

“You’re introducing me to wifey,” Whitlow says handing me two margaritas or whatever the fuck lime concoction Suh had filled the drink dispenser with.

“You better not call her that to her face,” I warn her.

“I won’t, asshole,” Whitlow says sprinkling some salt into her own drink.

After the graduation and reception Keitel, who lived off base, invited everyone to an informal afterparty barbeque  in his backyard. He lives right off the beach and if you walked through a few houses you were right on the water. It kind of bummed me out that any waterfront real estate like this in the Gulf Coast was gone to shit now.

It was weird seeing my cohort in plain clothes and watching the two worlds that had been my life for the last year and a half combining and mingling. Mama had talked to some of the other Moms, but I’d seen her wander off towards the beach barefoot with her phone clutched to her ear—she was worried Aubrey would go into labor early and then Brooke would be in charge and burn down the salon or something while she was gone.

Savannah was sitting on a bench with Johannsen’s little brother and Juliana was walking out of the house with Mason tangled up in her arms. I noticed he liked to be carried, but he was having none of it now that he was at a party. He wanted to meet everyone.

When I first saw Juliana after the ceremony, in the Officer’s Club I whispered (in what I hope was out of the earshot of Olsen’s mic) that she looked hot as fuck. Because she did. And I got a little bit of self satisfaction at having her on my arm.

Her face was fully made and she was wearing a red polo shirt dress that made her ass look incredible and white wedged sandals with a thick heel that made her legs look amazing. Her hair was pulled into a braid down her back and it eerily reminded me of how she wore it when I first saw her.

I’d decided to dutifully ignore the small gold cross she wore around her neck.

She’d stopped wearing her mother’s ashes, she told me she put the ash necklace in an urn, and the chain with the cross was the only thing on her neck now. I’d  picked a fight with her when she put my wedding band on the chain but I ultimately let it go. Now she kept the chain tucked into her collar, but I could see it when she turned her neck.

I hand Juliana one of the margaritas and when she puts Mason down he toddles uneasily over to Whitlow and stares up at her before pointing at her. For her credit she waves back at him excitedly.

“Look at  little baby Clark,” Whitlow says in an uncharacteristically smiley voice. Whitlow goes to pick him up, but then seems to change her mind mid-motion and gives him a high five.

“J, this is Whitlow,” I introduce.

Whitlow holds her hand out and it takes Juliana a full minutes to realize she wants to shake hands.

"Clark talks about you all time,” Whitlow says, which isn’t really close too true. “It’s funny....Clark and I had this thing where if we graduated we would all go out to Bourbon Street and now—well let me put it this way, if I never go  back to New Orleans again it will be too soon.”

“Hey,” I tease Whitlow because she was bringing me down. “All I promised you was a keg stand in Freeport if I recall correctly.”

“Where will you be stationed?” Juliana asks Whitlow.

“Alaska,” Whitlow answers. “I wasn’t letting them stash me away in some bullshit post.  When crab season comes I bet it will be exciting.”

“No!,” Juliana shrieks suddenly. She reaches down and takes an earthworm out of Mason’s hand. She flicks it away and he tries to pick it up again but she smashes it with her shoes. Mason starts crying as she she leans down and tires to brush the dirt off his hand but it makes him angrier so she stops.

“He’s a handful, huh ?,” Whitlow jokes.

“Stubborn like his father,” Juliana smiles and Whitlow laughs.

It was nice seeing them socialize, I hadn’t seen Juliana try and connect with another person in a while. I knew from countless phone calls that things weren't always easy living with my mother. Mama could be forward thinking in a lot of ways, but she also had this thing about shit Southern girls should know how to do correctly. I thought all my mothers shoulds, rules and inpatience would break her, but it must have changed her for the better.  I was starting to see the girl I fell in love with.

When she puts Mason down for his nap on one of the sofas in the house I manage to get her to dance with me. There’s no real dance floor, but I don’t care. I pull her into the middle of the yard, put my hands above her waist and use  all of my willpower keep them there. It’s an upbeat song and I quickly learn she’s not the most coordinated partner.

“We’ve never danced together,” I tell her.

“Yes we did,” she says. “When I came to Freeport for the first time--,”

“Line dancing doesn’t count.”

The song changes to a slow R&B song and she rests her head on my shoulder. I can’t help it--my hand wanders, but she quickly moves it back up.

“Step one. Complete,” I say into her ear.

“What?”

“Step one. We got me  through A-school. Now it’s all about you, baby.”

She clutches my shirt and buries her head in deeper to my shoulder

“I’m scared,” she admits.

“I know,” I say.

Next week she’d be going to Blue Cliff Community College to get her cosmetology license so she would at least be legally able to make tips washing hair for Mama. I know Mama had pushed it on her because she had this whole thing about married women having atleast one skill. She didn't realize school  was a big step for someone like Juliana who didn't have much experience with actual school. She'd been homeschooled poorly by her own Mom on the commune and it wasn't until she was tested in prison that they realized she'd only had a 7th grade education. It took her two years to pass the GED.

“Let’s go check on the kid,” I tell Juliana as the song ends.

I lead her by the hand through the empty house and Mason is still napping quietly on the couch. She pauses to adjust the blanket covering him.

Not letting go of her hand I walk us through the front door of Kietel's house and into my truck.

“Where are we going ?,” she asks

“We’re sneaking out of the party,” I tell her.

“Rhett--”

“Just for a bit,” I say. “I want to show you the beach,”

I put the car in neutral and let it roll down the driveway before starting the engine and driving us to the beach.

“I’ve seen a beach.”

“Not with me.”

 

-2

 

I pull into the beach parking lot and taking her face in my hand I kiss her in a way that isn’t suitable for  public. I tug on  her forearm and pull her over the gear shift and into my lap. I move my seat back to give her more room on my lap, but she pulls away.

“I’m sorry, Rhett,” she says quietly.

“Come on, J--

“I’m sorry--I can’t,” she says. “When we get back to the hotel....I promise.”

She crawls back over the console and I try not to notice she’s wearing a thong I've never seen.

“You’re leaving me cold.” I tell her. I sound pathetic but I haven't been laid in 3 months and we hadn't really been alone in almost a year. I wanted to make her scream my name and scratch my back like she had on our honeymoon.

She reaches over to the radio and the speakers start blasting Walking on Sunshine sung by tone deaf children. It’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard.

“What the fuck is that ?,” I ask turning it down.

“They play it at Sing and Storytime at church so I bought a copy for Mason,” she laughs. “I thought it might help you.”

“You thought you were going to annoy it away ? Something tells me you don’t have much experience with killing boners--”

“Savannah and I looked up how to put a condom on a banana,” she says.

And that did it.

She smiles devilishly at me and covers her face with her hands.

“Why would you ever say that to me ? And what do you know about using a condom ?,”

“I  wasn't supposed to tell you that," she cringes. "She asked me and I didn't know so we looked it up,”

When it first started I’d sort of been playing the role of protective big brother with the whole Caleb and Savannah thing  even though I honestly never minded him. But now Caleb was a senior and  getting scouted by Division I schools. I was worried he’d outgrow Savannah and break her heart. I’d prefer my sister never to have sex, but if she did I wanted it to be with a guy who wasn’t going to crush her.

“I think she just wanted to know things,” Juliana adds. “I don’t think she’s ready to do anything.”

“Alright, boner is gone you can shut up now,” I say putting my hands over my ears.

“Oh, but don’t tell her I told you,” she adds

“Told me what ?,” I play along

 

***

-3-

I had all of my extended family looking for a house for Juliana and I to live in even before I graduated.

I wanted to get out of Freeport and closer to the city but all the property near my job would end up doubling in cost once we made the storm repairs. The real estate market was shit.

At the end of our patience we’d finally decided to just move into my paternal grandparents house--the house my Dad grew up in. It was in Freeport and had been abandoned since my Dad's dad was moved to a hospice 12 years ago. Deacon owned the house but he didn’t like going there because it’s where my Dad killed himself, so he gave me the keys and the deed.

It was a small three-bedroom  timber  house with red metal awning that had been built in the 60s, but it was in decent walking distance of a shopping center and The Parkway Diner. Most of neighborhood had been abandoned, but  the neighbors who did live there were long timers who kept to themselves.

It took us a month to fully move in because of my work schedule. Unless it was expected to be a busy week I worked 3 days on and 3 days off at the New Orleans Base. There was a bus that went to  base and stopped just outside of Freeport, so I took it to and from work so Juliana could use the truck.

The house had sustained some damage during the storm; we had the roof and siding repaired, the bathrooms refinished, the carpet and kitchen tile redone, the walls painted and most of the appliances replaced but we couldn’t get rid of the horrific wood paneling in the living room. Still, it was our home now.

The first piece of mail addressed to us at our new house is for a wedding.

“Hey, I ain’t get an invitation,” Cody mock complains watching me open the delicate pastel blue envelope.

We were sitting on the front stoop of my house (my house) drinking bourbon when Jenni, the young mail woman brought the mail to the house.

Cody had come over to help me put together Mason’s first bed, he was good at putting shit together. We’d found some old weed in the floorboards of Deacon's old room. Cody tried to smoke it, but it was too old to light.

“It ain’t an invitation,” I tell him when I open it. Confused, I look at the envelope again and realize it was addressed to Mrs. Rhett Clark and not to me.

It was a card with silver polka dots and in light blue curly text it said “I’ve Got My Man, Now I Need My Girls !” on the back it said in smaller cursive “Juliana Clark, will you be my bridesmaid ?” and then the time and date of a brunch at a clubhouse in Meridian Parish.

I hand it to Cody and after he reads it he laughs at the absurdity too.

“That girl is batshit crazy. You can't just call and ask people shit anymore ?” Cody says. “Hey....you think Amber is like a cougar now ?,”

This is hilarious to me.

A month before I graduated from A-School, Amber announced she was engaged to none other than my cousin West. I knew they got close after doing the storm relief and did a lot of Jesus shit together. I didn't think it was that serious,  but apparently, they were soulmates. West was only 16 months younger than me--hell he'd be older than me I was when I got married--but for some reason he always seemed much younger.

“I can’t believe your ex-girlfriend pulled your wife into her wedding bullshit,” Cody said.

“Amber was not my girlfriend,” I remind him. “Besides Amber has 8 god damn bridesmaids. She just wants J because she needs a bridesmaid who ain’t a brunette to even it out.”

“Hey, how many of Amber’s bridesmaids have you hooked up with ?,” Cody says with a shit eating grin.

“You’re going to shut up about the number of girls I’ve hooked up with or I’m kicking you out of my house,”

“Damn, I’m just joking.”

I take another drink of the bourbon, which we’d also found  in the house. It was in the back of a bathroom cabinet, but it was so smooth and there was barely any burn. 

Grandma Clark had good taste.

“Seven,” I say under my breath and Cody punches me close to my groin.

“Only seven outta of ten ? Damn, not even pretty boy Rhett Clark can’t get a perfect score,” Cody laughs

I snatch his drink away from him and pour it into my glass.

“One of her bridesmaids is my sister, asshole.” I say. “I’m cuttin’ you off.”

“Hey, I heard it’s gonna be a dry wedding,” Cody tells me, changing subjects

Of course it was.

“Which is why I’m making sure I’m working that weekend,” I tell him.

“Does that mean I get to take Juliana ?,” he grins

“Like hell,” I say finishing my glass. “God, when the fuck did we become like your Dad and his friends? Spending a weeknight sitting outside drinking  and talking shit about the idiots in this town.”

“It’s only be pathetic if we had liver  and heart problems, were overweight and  started talking about all the  football “potential” in preteen boys," Cody tells me. "So, if in like 12 years my fatass is like, ‘damn that Clark boy runs good defense’ I want you to fucking shoot me.”

“I might shoot you for insinuating you can take my wife to West’s Virginity Going Away Party,”

Cody busts out laughing.

“Hey, you think West is really a virgin ?,” he asks me.

“I don’t know, I don’t even want to fucking  think about it.”  I tell him

My truck pulls up to the side of the house and I can’t control the smile that comes to my face. She'd left early this morning and I hadn't seen her pretty face all day.

Juliana climbs out of the driver's seat and carefully takes Mason out of his car seat. She carries him toward the house, but the second he sees Beau, Mason wiggles to be put down. He walks unsteadily to the lazy hound dog, that was still tired from chasing Cody’s bike all the way here.

Juliana walks towards us and I stand to kiss her, Cody stands and she gives him a  hug. We only have two lawn chairs, so I pull her into my lap, my thumb rubbing her thigh.

“You’ve got mail,” I tell her handing her the invitation. She only glances over it before putting it down on the floor.

“Amber told me she mailed this at--,” she says, but doesn’t bother to finish the sentence. She just lets it fade.

Twice a week she went with Mason to some kind of singing baby Bible study  that Amber taught. They read all the nonfucked up parts of the Bible and then for whatever reason sing a mix of upbeat secular and religious music. To keep the peace we’d just developed a policy where we didn’t talk about religion and it worked.

I watch her eyes roam over the two glasses on the stoop. I’d emptied Cody’s glass  into mine so his cup looked empty. He was  supposed to be on probation for something.

“We saw Deacon,” she tells me.

“Yeah ?,” Is all I say.

“Yes,” she responds.

Deacon had been going hard for the last few months and had managed to take his ass back into drug rehab. I loved him to death, but I didn’t go out of my way to see him like that. I’d just catch him next time.

“Mason, leave him alone,” Juliana says in something close to a stern tone. She gets out of my lap and gently moves Mason's hand away from Beau's snout.

“He’s fine, J.” I tell her. “That stupid dog ain’t going to hurt him.”

“Hey!” Cody says, offended on Beau's behalf.

Mason is happily repeating the word dog as he puts his fingers in Beau's face. He reaches his little hands into Beau’s mouth, and the dog just sniffs at him. Mason starts to pull on the dog’s floppy ears and Beau stands up, does a half bark half squeal and licks Mason’s face—which makes him erupt into tears.

“See ? He’ll eat you if you mess with him,” Cody jokes. “He’s just gettin’ his taste in.”

“Shut up, that dog doesn’t even have half his teeth,” I remind Cody.

I stand up and taking Mason’s hand to show him how to pet the dog nicely. He pull his hand away and screams.

“That dog is nothing to cry about. He’s just being friendly, you have to be gentle, son," I tell him

Mason is done with the Beau though and starts stomping his feet and and reaching for Juliana to hold him.

I expect her to be scowling at all this, she had a way of babying him, but she has a small smile on her face. I take Mason’s hand and  walk back up the porch towards the door. I pick up the bottle of bourbon on my way up.

“I gotta go back to base tomorrow so it’s time for you to go,” I tell Cody.

“You should drive him,” Juliana says picking Mason up and cradling him in her lap.

“Yeah, you should drive me,” Cody echoes her.

“You rode your ten speed here, you can ride it back, delinquent,”

Cody gives me the middle finger before getting back on his bike.

I walk with Juliana back into the house and I lift some weights in the living room while she puts Mason down for a nap. He’s  so upset about the dog licking him that that he doesn’t even notice he has a new bed. When he’s finally asleep, she sneaks up behind me and runs her hand through my hair. I almost drop the weight at her touch.

“You should get a haircut before you go back,” she says.

“You should do it,” I smile.

“You know your mom. She would kill me--”

“Nah, she’d kill me not you. Come on,” I say.

I finally convince her and she drags a kitchen chair into the tiny bathroom in our bedroom and takes out the set of hair cutting tools she’d gotten for her classes at the college.

She’s only been going to class for a month and I knew it was hard for her but she never complained. The one good thing about her getting religion is the church had cheap daycare for when I was at work and she was at class.

She works on my hair in silence for almost an hour and I hear lot of sounds of frustration come from her as she manipulates my neck. I get a little nervous when she brushes the hair off my shoulder and motions for me to stand up.  I look in the mirror and it doesn’t look half bad, I’d probably just have to even it with my electric razor  in the morning when she was still in bed.

I take her waist and gently walk her backwards until she hits the bathroom wall. I lean against her and trap her between the sink and the wall.

“So, do I tip you now ?,” I ask her and she rolls her beautiful brown eyes.

I lean down to kiss her and almost in that exact second  something shatters in the kitchen followed by silence. Her entire body tenses.

I put an arm in front of her to keep her behind me as I step out of the bathroom and into our bedroom.. I calculate how long it would talk me to get my gun from the laundry room outside if it was some meth head who was trying to breaking in.

“Oh, shit !” I shout when I see what caused the noise.

“What ?,” she screams behind me.

I step into the kitchen.

There were pills everywhere.

Mason must have woken up when we were in the bathroom. He’d climbed on top of a kitchen chair and knocked all the pill bottles on the kitchen table down. The capsules rolled all over the floor.  Snapping out of the shock I run to him over and open his mouth to make sure he didn’t put any in his mouth, I  take a purple one out of his hand. He gets upset and Juliana is instantly at my side.

“It’s okay, you didn’t know--,” she starts to tell him.

“It’s not okay,” I tell her and turn to Mason. “You don't touch these. You need a time out.”

I pick him up and he starts kicking me as I put him in the playpen. He was too big for the playpen but it was the one place I’d trained him not to get out of it we put him in there.

I turn around to see Juliana  on the floor scooping up the loose pills. There were 4 bottles and they all lay open and empty on the floor.

“J, I can’t believe you  didn’t close the bottles,” I tell her.  "Are you fucking kidding me ?"

“I know, I’m sorry--,”

“You don’t have to apologize to me--”

“I’m sorry—I mean, I  think we have to throw these out now…,” she says.

“Nah, they’re fine. The floor is clean--,”

“I’m almost due for a refill, I can just wait--,”

“The pills are fine, J. You’d be throwing away like $600 worth of medication,” I remind her.

“I’m not putting something in my mouth that was on the floor," she argues. "I know you let Cody let that sloberring dog in here--”

“No I didn't. I’m not going to  let you throw out the only things keeping us sane,” I tell her.

“Why do you always think it’s the pills ?,” she says exasperated throwing the pills in her hand on the floor in frustration. They smack and skitter across the kitchen tile floor.

At first I couldn’t put my finger on why we were getting along so well until I learned she’d been put back on a regular cocktail of anxiety pills since she stopped breastfeeding All her medication cost me an arm and leg even with insurance, but it was worth it.

I’d mentioned the change in her to her before and for some reason she always found it upsetting that medication made her better.  She wanted to believe she felt better because she'd gotten baptized. She’d wanted to believe that believing in something had changed her chemistry.

“Fine, J,” I retort. “I’m sorry, I meant to say you don’t want to throw away the special candy Jesus made just for you and your precious soul that he thought was so awesome he died for it.”

“Why do you have to be such a smartass ? ” she snaps. “Did you know some prescribed medication is just  fake placebos, anyway ?”

“Not these. They only do that in drug trials and birth control,” I tell her. "Now, help me pick these up before Mason puts one in his mouth."

We spend an hour gathering and then sorting the pills back into their containers and when it’s done the fight is all but forgotten, no tears and no slammed doors.

 

-----

I spend most of my time on the New Orleans Base training and running maintenance with my crew.

I don’t get my first rescue for 2 months and it’s not even an especially noble one. The call comes in at 2AM. The victim had been in the water for an hour and when we get them on the helicopter and get them breathing again it turned out they were smuggling drugs. Instead of getting them to safety we had to turn them over the police.

More than a year later and people were still wary of the Gulf Coast and it turned out a lot of people going out in the water and getting themselves in trouble were drug smugglers or dumbfucks. We’d spent 7 hours  following distress flares only to realize some rich high school kids were setting them off  for fun.

Even though rescues weren’t common I liked working on base, we had to train all day and it kept me active. The men and women I worked with were smarter than me which kept me motivated. I still had to spend some time behind a desk, but when I did get stuck behind a monitor I’d started writing letters to Juliana again. They were usually just short notes about what happened during the day and sometimes she sent me back art work Mason had made at daycare.

We didn't talk on the phone because reception at the air station for personal cell phones was  bad.  I didn’t even take my phone with me into the command center. My family knew they could call me at work if it was an emergency.

So, when I’m in the dorm, packing to catch my bus home and see a 2-day old text message from Deacon on my phone I don’t panic at first.

 But then I read it.

Stay off Facebook. Let your Uncle handle it.

I text him to ask him what the hell he did now. He doesn't respond.

Deacon had checked himself out of rehab against doctors orders and used his FEMA money to buy a new mobile home and a new truck. He should have been back to work and back to his normal life and not causing trouble. He’d gotten broadband internet and I knew he had a habit of going on rants if someone posted something about suicide being a sin. He usually offended a lot of righteous people.

I call Cody to get the details because I knew he did nothing but stay online all day.

“Do you know what Deacon going on about online ?” I ask him and tell him about the text message.

“Aw, shit man. Um, it’s about Juliana,” Cody says.

“What happened?,” I ask. As far as I knew she didn't really use computers.

“I think you should talk to her,” Cody says and in an oddly protective tone he adds. “Deacon’s right. Stay offline, man. It’s….it’s bad.”

“Cody just fucking tell me,”

He sighs.

“Just look at Topix,” he says. “Look at the comments,”

“What the fuck is Topix ?,”

“It’s like a local news website where the post news about locals from other websites and shit,” he says.

I was supposed to be catching my bus home after a four day shift but instead I take my laptop and go back to my dorm. I connect my laptop and open the Freeport Topix page.

I see one of the top stories is a  link to Rocket Olsen’s multimedia picture gallery in the The Picayune Times. She’d told us that while they’d bumped our radio story from air she would still use our photo in her collage.

The person who posted the story on the Freeport Topix had taken Juliana and I’s photo out of the multimedia collage and  written a quick sentence about each of us;

 Rhett Clark graduated from Freeport High School and is an Aviation Survival Technician in the United States Coast Guard. Juliana Clark is from Hartford, Connecticut and attends service at Southaven Bible Church. Their son, Mason Charles Clark is now 27 months  and loves ice cream, snuggling and singing. Love seeing locals in the big time !

It all seemed fine, but I follow Cody’s directions and look at the comments.

There were  253 comments. The first few are generic and seem to be mostly from church ladies who recognized Juliana or me . But one comment feels like a gut punch and drains the blood from my face.

AnonymousBitchSlap

Lol, that blonde bitch is totally a porn star. Check out this link.

 ------

SH-LILE Pardox Line

While these lines aren't exactly the same they are oddly similar.

 From QC:
I went to help Aria fold the couch back.  I almost dropped one of the ends on her foot cause I was staring at her unrestrained cleavage popping out from the deep U-neck dress she wore

 
From UL2

 When he’s finally asleep, she sneaks up behind me and runs her hand through my hair. I almost drop the weight at her touch.