-1-

“I want a kiss,” he smiles.

I step back and he advances on me.

“I’m—I don’t feel comfort--”

“I want a kiss,” Marty repeats.

He takes another step, pushing my back into the dumpster and forcing his heavy body over mine. Marty’s hands grips my shoulder as he forces his lips on mine. I can feel his crotch pressing against my thigh. My hands shake as I try to open my bag to take out Rhett’s gun.

Marty releases me before I can even get the bag open, a playful smile on his face.

“You're a little tease. I can't believe you're leave me with blue balls," he laughs and runs his hand down my face. "Come on, smile for me, honey."

“Um, I have to go,” 

 And then I smile. Just to please him.

His breath leaves the taste of tobacco on my lips and I’m shaking with disgust and anger at him.

And at myself.

He sighs and hands me the white paper bag and I turn my back on him. He slaps my backside and I  walk through his used car lot as quickly as I can back to the truck.

Once the truck door is shut I start crying.

I’m so stupid.

I thought I was strong enough to do this, but I wasn’t.

Never again.

***

Getting heroin in Freeport from someone other than Cody turned out to be comically easy.

I asked Jocelyn’s neighbor Marty over e-mail where I could buy it because I knew he had a crush on me. He knew exactly where to get it and all he wanted in exchange was money to cover the cost and pictures of me.

And apparently a kiss.

I was smart enough to know now that he’d only ask for more things from me if I went back  again  so I was going to have to find another way.

I’d taken Mason to Aubrey’s house for a playdate and when I go to pick him up I tell her to have one of her older kids bring him to my car because I’m afraid she’ll smell Marty's tobacco on me. I pretend like there had been traffic and I had a rough day at therapy and just wanted to get home, which wasn’t a complete lie. My recommended therapist was 30 miles away and I had been there this morning but therapy was never very therapeutic for me. It felt like a waste of money.

When Mason and I get home Rhett is in front of the house working on his stupid new sedan. He’d purchased a red Toyota Camry in what was probably some kind of drunken late night transaction with a stranger at the bar. It was a Katrina damaged car, there were thousands of those still , and the seller had convinced Rhett  it only needed a couple of hundred dollars’ worth of repairs to pass inspections.

When I told him it was a bad idea he smugly told me he was in charge of maintenance of a 17-million-dollar helicopter in the Coast Guard and that he could get the cheap sedan in shape for an inspection in  a week. But it had been two months and thousands of dollars in parts and he still couldn’t get it to run.

There is an empty 8 pack of beer at Rhett’s feet and he is leaning against the open hood talking and drinking with two of his new friends from the neighborhood. Cody missed another court date and was in jail for 30 days, but Rhett had this ability to make friends easily when he wanted to. The people who lived in our neighborhood were older and most of the people our age were either living with parents or taking care of grandparents.

“Let me hold you, okay ? No running.” I tell Mason when I unbuckle him for his car seat. He was kicking his legs excitedly, probably hyper from running all over Aubrey and Wil’s property.

Mason doesn’t listen.

The minute I get the seatbelt off he pushes pass me to  jump out the car and run towards where Rhett was standing by the Camry with the neighbors. Mason found the new car--and Rhett’s tools--endlessly fascinating which I thought was adorable. He'd sometimes stand near Rhett  just to mimic everything he did.  But I didn’t like how Mason wasn’t wary of strangers.

Rhett intercepts Mason before he tries to touch the engine or whatever is under the Camry hood. He  picks Mason up and  spins him around, tossing him up in the air until he is giggling and I’m close to a heart attack.

When Rhett puts him down, Mason goes for the toolbox and Rhett quickly  grabs it, giving him his toy hammer before he can grab a real tool.  Mason inspects the toy hammer before walking over, bending down and  tapping  one of the neighbors shoes with it. The neighbor laughs uncomfortably.

“Leave them alone. Don’t hit.” I tell Mason taking his hand and leading him away from the group of men.

“You remember Erik and Trevor, right J ?,” Rhett says motioning to the two neighbor men he’d been talking to.

I nod at them and they smile widely at me.

I pick Mason up and he screeches trying to get away.

“N-A-P time,” I tell them as an excuse and go in the house as quickly as I can.

Trevor had approached Rhett first. He came up to him with a handshake a few weeks ago when Rhett was mowing the grass outside. I secretly listened to the exchange from a window in the kitchen. They talked about how his family had been friends with Rhett’s Dad and they bonded over shared childhood memories.

Erik was Trevor's stepbrother and half a bottle of whiskey later  I'd heard one of them make an apologetic preface before saying something about some sex thing Rhett was lucky I would do. Rhett told them not to talk about me like that, but Rhett also laughed with them about it.

The whole video thing was a joke to him now, but the anxiety over it never went away for me

When we get to the house I mix a small drop of Benadryl in grape juice and put it in Mason’s sippy cup.  I carry him into his bedroom and rock him in the rocking chair while he drinks it. He fights me for a while, but when he’s knocked out I put him in his bed and take out my knitting needles.

I’d decided to abandon the crochet patches idea and was making a mint green cable knit blanket instead.

I always felt guilty whenever I gave Mason something to help him get to sleep. It was an awful thing to do and I knew it, but I needed some peace. Therapy always left me feeling hollowed out and like I wasn’t doing enough.

And to top it off Marty had made me feel like crawling out of my skin.

I suddenly couldn’t  wait anymore.

I take the heroin Marty gave me out of my bag and using an ugly spoon I got from Goodwill I dissolve less than a tablespoon of heroin into water on the gas stove. I set the tablespoon on the kitchen counter to cool off and use the stool to get one of the hypodermic needles off the top of the fridge and set it next to the spoon and stare at it for a few minutes.

Swallowing the dread growing in my stomach I open the front door and stand in the doorway watching the men outside. Erik and Trevor’s eyes leave Rhett’s attention and snap to me immediately and I can feel them taking a calculation of my body—even though there was nothing to see.

Rhett notices them get distracted and turns to look at me standing in the doorway.

“Rhett, can you come inside ? I need your help,” I call to him, my voice wavering.

Rhett's expression hardens and his eyes narrow at me.

“Yes, ma’am,” he says with a smile that scares me.

Erik and Trevor make their excuses and after confirming some kind of date to get together, they walk back down the street and Rhett walks towards the house. He pushes past me through the door and when he sees the syringe in the kitchen he sits on the couch, his legs spread wide.

His skin had tanned from being outside working on the car so much.  The coloring brought out the hard muscles displayed by his thin white undershirt. Despite all the drinking he’d kept up his workout routine and even doubled it on some days since he didn't have access to a pool to do laps in.

With the soft sheen of sweat coming off his skin, the dark stubble on his chin and his startling greenish blue eyes  I knew he probably the sexiest man in this entire town. But all I wanted in that moment was for him to be someone else.

Someone less judgmental. Someone less noble. Someone less perfect looking.

I fill the syringe in the kitchen with heroin and sit next to him on the couch with it. He grabs my arm so hard it feels like my shoulder is going to pop but I don’t complain.  He puts my hand in his lap and yanks the ponytail holder out of my bun to tie off my arm before injecting my arm with heroin.

He doesn’t want to do this for me.

He always looks at me like he hates me when he has to do this.

But it was better than the alternative.

 

***

-2-

I wasn’t a heroin addict.

I was more pracitcal.

The heroin complemented my antidepressants and it just felt good whenever I took it and I needed to feel good.

I was the town whore, my husband was probably an unemployed alcoholic now, my son was a nightmare and worst of all I had to spend every weekend at one of Amber’s bridesmaid events.

The heroin made it all feel tolerable. It made everything feel nice.

Spraying it into my nose stopped working within a few weeks and I knew I had to inject if I was going to keep doing it. I’d bought the needles at a medical supply store three parishes away and  flipped through a nurses handbook in the library to learn how to use the needle.

The first time I’d  injected I’d waited until both Mason and Rhett were asleep. It was 3 AM and I went into the living room bathroom and did everything like I had seen in the book.

But when I pushed the syringe down in my arm it had burned.

It felt like hot acid searing from my elbow to my hand and my entire arm was swole to double it’s size.

I didn’t even realize how much I was screaming until Mason came into the bathroom crying. He wanted me to pick him up and he grabbed my swollen arm. It hurt so much I thought I was going to blackout.

“SIT IN THAT CORNER!” Rhett shouted at him.

He’d come out of nowhere and scared Mason so bad that he just kept crying and tried to climb on me. The pain in my arm was so intense I couldn’t even form words to tell Rhett he was just scaring him.

Through teary eyes I saw Rhett grab Mason’s hand and shove him into the corner and order him to stay like a dog which infuriated me in retrospect.  Mason sat down in the corner of the bathroom crying into his stuffed lamb and calling for me.

Rhett’s eyes swept the bathroom taking in the bag of heroin, the spoon and the lighter before landing on me and the needle still sticking out of my arm. He looked at my swelling arm and pressed a finger to the swelling.

I yelped.

“Does that hurt ?,” he asked.

“Yes,” I shot back.

“Shit. You’re so fucking stupid, Juliana,” he spat at me.  “We gotta go to the ER--”

“I don’t want to get in trouble--,”

“You won’t-”

“No, I have a felony. I don’t want to risk it--”

“Then don’t do fucking heroin. What the hell did I tell you ? What did I fucking tell you--"

“Please Rhett-,” I begged him. "Shut up and help me!,"

“Fine,” he shouted. “God damn it,”

He crouched down to the floor and pulled the needle out of my arm and I almost passed out again from the pain. He put his arm around my waist and led me into the bedroom and told me to lie down on the bed with my arm above my head propped up by the phone book. He made me drink half a bottle of the baby Benadryl since that was all we had and within an hour the swelling and pain had gone down.

I’d  injected the heroin into my artery instead of into a vein—which was apparently very bad. Later, Rhett told me I could have killed myself and he begrudgingly agreed to inject for me but only under the condition that once I was out of whatever I had I’d start detoxing.

I agreed.

That was two months ago.

I wasn’t ready to be done so soon, so I’d had to buy more behind his back from someone who wouldn't tell Rhett. It was how I ended up at Marty’s used car lot being forcibly kissed against a dumpster.

I have to look away as Rhett pushes the needle into my arm. He only injects half of it in before pulling the needle out and throwing the syringe in my lap and storming off into the bedroom.  

I ignore his little tantrum and let the new peace seep in for a few minutes before standing up. Feeling energized I clean the bathroom, Mason’s room and the kitchen before circling back to the bedroom where Rhett is sitting at his desk with his laptop and a beer.

I pull out my yellow suitcase to start packing my bag for the weekend but then I remember the dress code.

“Can you print Amber’s e-mail for me ?,” I ask him.

He’s still being a baby about the heroin and doesn’t respond, but I hear the printer start printing.

“Are you not going to talk to me today ?”

“Whose going to help you shoot up this weekend ?,"

“I don't shoot up. I'm not going to take any--”

“Are you going to drink ?,” he asks

“I don’t know--”

“You’ll be sick as a dog,”

“No, I won’t. It’s not like  I take it everyday,” I remind him.

He rolls his eyes and picks up the e-mail from the printer, he reads over it before looking up at me.

“Amber is a fucking lunatic,” he says. “I swear, West is going to be able to take a shit unless it’s on her schedule.”

“You dated her too.” I reminded him.

“Yeah, but I know how to keep a girl  like her in her place,” he responds.

“That sounds awful,” I tell him. I think he just likes to say things to get a rise out of me

“It’s true. I mean damn, Amber’s even got you tied up in all this bridesmaid shit and you don’t even want to be in the wedding.”

“Your Mom really wants me to be a part of it.” I remind him and take the printed e-mail.

Amber’s bachelorette party was this weekend at a timeshare in Hilton Head, South Carolina. Amber had three full days planned out and had even taken the time to e-mail us all the appropriate dresscode and makeup looks for each of the bachelorette party events.

Although, part of me wondered if she’d done that last part just for me.

“Amber just cares a lot and wants everyone to have a good time.” I tell him. “And I think her wedding is going to be beautiful…I’ve never been to a real wedding. If I’d known you could do everything Amber is doing I might have pushed harder for my own.”

Rhett rolls his eyes.

 “Do you know the real reason Amber is all bridezilla ?," he says. "It’s cause this wedding, not the marriage, just the wedding day, is the most important thing that is ever going to happen to a dumb girl like her.”

“God, Rhett you’re so mean when you’re drink.”

“I’m not being mean. It’s the truth.”

“Well, our wedding day was the most important day in my life.” I tell him. “Am I dumb too ?”

“That’s bullshit. You escaped from a cult, you gave birth to our son, I’d like to think you had a lot more important days and if you stop taking heroine maybe you'll have more.”

***

Rhett

-3-

I wake Juliana up at five in the morning to catch her ride to the train station. She’s bleary eyed and spacey and doesn’t even look at me as she rolls off the couch, where she'd fallen asleep, and starts pulling her hair into a ponytail.

Our sleep scheduled has been fucked lately. I was off my schedule because I didn't have work. Sometimes I stayed out late and slept through most of the day and some nights I couldn't sleep at all. She rarely left the house and sometimes the heroin made her pass out in random places  and then she’d just be up all night. Last night I’d heard her playing with Mason and then talking to herself until 3 am.

She comes out of the bedroom wearing  white knee shorts and a tight black tank top. Her cleavage looked amazing. When she sees me staring at her she runs her hands over herself self-consciously. The tank top said Team Bride in bright pink text across her breasts. There was a bedazzled diamond in the corner of the shirt and the back said bridesmaid in cursive text. She's wearing a pair of black high heels and I have a momentary fantasy about the heel of that shoe digging into my back while we made love against the wall.

Juliana had double downed on wearing  a mix between my high school clothes and big ugly dresses from Goodwill since she got back into town and I forgot how good her body looked in something that wasn’t a boner killer. 

“That shirt is the dumbest thing I have ever seen,” I can’t help but to laugh.

“That’s because you haven’t seen the other shirts,” she says as she looks in the bathroom mirror and puts on whatever Amber considered “fresh, light, pinky” makeup.

This makes me laugh too.

I lift weights and watch while she gets ready. When she’d done she stands by Mason’s room and peeks into the door. She just stares at him sleeping. He has his pacifier in his mouth and he’s tucked securely in his bed with his stuffed animals.

My phone buzzes and I look to see a text from Brooke.

“Brooke’s almost here to get you,” I tell her reading the text.

She turns to look at me with her eyes damp.

“Rhett—I—please,” she says rubbing her arm.

I know what she’s asking for. It pissed me off that she was turning into an addict right in front of my face. I’d seen people die and get fucked over by drugs-- especially heroin. I wanted her to stop before something bad happened.But I knew if I told her she had to stop that would only make her do it behind my back.

At least when  I played along I could control how much she was taking.

“You’ll be fine, baby...how about I give you something else--”

“No. Please, Rhett,” she whines. “I don’t want to go out dressed like this and the other girls are going to drink and talk about the honeymoon and someone is going to bring the videos up. I just want to have a good time. I need it. Please, Rhett.”

“Fine.” I bark and she dashes off to the kitchen..

Minutes later she hands me the syringe, I hate how relieved it makes her just to be holding it.  I take the rubber band out of her hair and tie around her wrist until her veins show. Her skin is pale because she stayed inside a lot and the veins in her arms are visible through the skin. They’re thick and blue, I don’t know how she missed them that first time.

I insert the needle into the biggest vein, and glance out the window to make sure Brooke wasn’t at the door.

I hated this. I fucking hated her for making me do it.

Brooke’s car pulls up and I accidentally give Juliana all of the injection because I’m watching Brooke. She gets out of the car in an identical tank top and the smallest white shorts and highest black heels I have ever seen, but she doesn’t come towards the door.

Juliana gets her rolling bag and heads for the door. I grab her arm and turn her back towards me and kiss her.

“I love you,” I tell her. And I do. Not in the head over heels you-light-up-my-life-love-pop-song-way. In a different way. An acceptable way. An you make my life hell but I’d be real fucked up if you died way.

She doesn’t say I love you back and I don’t expect her to. She'd never been into that.

“I should go,” she says. “If Mason gets really upset about me being gone will you call me ?”

“Of course.”

“Rhett, don’t be too hard on him--”

“I won’t,” I tell her and guide her out the door.

The moment Brooke’s car pulls away with Juliana inside I start searching the house to figure out where she kept the heroin. I planned on flushing some of it, but I can’t find it and I hope she didn't take it with her.

Mason wakes up a few hours later and he wanders the house looking for Juliana. He is confused that she is gone, but he’s not upset yet. I get him dressed and take him to Mama’s for breakfast.

Mama is all smiles when I open the door to the house. Mason runs over to her excitedly. She’s making pancakes at the stove, but something about her smile looks strained.

 “Have you been crying? What’s wrong ?,” I ask her noticing the smudged eye make up and red eyes.

“Oh, nothing…I’m just going through the change and it makes you---”

“God, I do not need to hear this--,”

“Oh, hush,” she laughs and sighs. “I was just thinkin’ about how in a year this house will be so empty when Savannah goes to college--”

“You still bettin’ on Savannah gettin’ into college ?”

“Rhett--”

“I’m kiddin’,” I tell her. “You know we’ll come and visit you,"

This doesn't seem to make her feel better.

"Also...I promise I won’t be an asshole if your try to date some guy.”

She laughs at this.

As far as I knew Mama only dated one guy, some guy Aunt Macy set her up with. In retrospect he was probably nice, but I was such a jerk back then. I was 12, he told me not to curse and I’d poured water into his gas tank.

“I love you, son. You’re a good Dad, you know that ?,” she tells me, running a hand through my hair.

“That’s funny. Most of the time I feel like I don’t know what I’m doing,” I admit.

Some days I was still in denial about being a parent. I liked kids but I’d never wanted to be father and I really didn’t want to have a son. I figured a daughter would be easier because you mostly have to protect them, but with a son I had to make sure he didn’t grew up to be a  good man.

“Well, you’re better than Charlie,” Mama laugh. “I remember I couldn’t even leave him alone with you. He used to pay poor little  Aubrey to come over and babysit.”

I remember Aubrey being a terrible babysitter. She was always boy crazy and constantly on the phone.

Mama reschedules the clients she had this afternoon and we stay at her house until the afternoon catching up. I only tell her the good stuff; She doesn’t ask about my suspension or any of our other shit so it’s nice.

Mason and I have to leave at 1:00 PM to head to Jefferson Parish where the minor league baseball team played. One of our neighbors, Trevor Bowen, was a center fielder for the team and had gotten us tickets to watch the team practice—It was a public event and I figured it be good since I didn’t think Mason could sit through a whole game yet.

I was supposed to be on my best behavior but I decide to buy an overpriced beer and we sit in the bleachers with other families of young kids and local baseball enthusiasts. Mason waves to some of the players and they wave back at him and bring him a signed ball.

He asks me where Juliana is and tell him we will see her later and he drops the subject.

30 minutes into the practice my phone rings. I recognize the number and I pause before opening it.

“Clark,” Whitlow says over the line.

“Hey, stranger,” I say.

We hadn’t kept in touch as much as we’d promised we would. A 4-hour time difference made catching up hard.

“Hey, yourself,” she says. “So, I’m at New Orleans Base looking for you. Some guys said you were on leave and some said you were suspended…is everything okay ?”

“Yeah,” I say, trying not to freak out that she might start asking questions and get wrong answers.

“Good. Look, I’m in your town for a few days and  wanted to say hi to you and wifey.”

“Yeah, hey, J’s out of town so I have Mason…can you come to Freeport ? We can hang out…We can talk”

“Is everything, okay ?”

“Yeah,” I lie

 

***

-4-

“Where are we ? I feel like you’re going to dump my fucking body—oh, sorry. Sorry, baby Clark.” Whitlow says covering her mouth and remembering Mason was in the backseat.

“Yeah…you probably could dump a body out here and an alligator would eat the evidence,” I say as we pull up to Aubrey and Wil’s property.

They were having their first big party since Noah Presley was born. The yard was crowded with people, grills and coolers of alcohol. I’d told Whitlow to drive up to Freeport and we’d hang out at the party—it seemed more fun than being at my house.

She’s wearing jeans and a loose tank top with sunset pattern on it. It shows off her lean muscles and her tattoo of the Rescue Swimmer patch. When she gets out of the truck and hovers nervously behind me I suddenly realize how bad it looks me bringing Whitlow here when Juliana was out of town.

Then again, because of her short hair most of the dumbasses here would probably assume she’s a lesbian.

“Hi, baby !,” Aubrey says, running out of nowhere and picking Mason up like she hadn’t seen him yesterday---which meant she was probably three drinks in. “Are you being good to your daddy, huh ? Look he got you dressed and everything !,Aubrey is so impressed with Daddy ! Yes she is. Yes, she is!”

Mason laughs and I feel a little bit of relief as she puts him down and he runs off towards his cousins. He was around family so I knew everyone would be watching out for him. I loved the kid, but spending all day with him had me desperate for adult conversation that didn’t involve crying, shit or talking about mommy,

“Aubrey, this is Bethany Whitlow. We graduated from the A-school together,” I introduce her.

“Did you hear from Juliana or Savannah in Hilton's Head ?,” Aubrey asks  flippantly. Her big  fake eyelashes making it obvious she is looking Whitlow up and down as she talks.

 “Yeah,” I tell her in a mocking tone.“ Bridesmaid Brooke sent an e-mail to all spouses and parents that they all arrived and are headed to a spa brunch…whatever the fuck that is”

“Um, your property is great,” Whitlow says. “It must be awesome living out here.”

Aubrey just gives Whitlow a hard smile and then turns back to the house.

I tell Whitlow to head to the grill and get us some food and  chase after Aubrey, which isn’t hard since she’s traipsing across the grass in stilettos

“What’s your problem ?,” I call after Aubrey

“I should be asking you that, Rhett,” she retorts.  “Who the hell is that random bitch ?”

“That bitch’ is my friend and my colleague like I said. Who the fuck do you think I am ?,”

She throws her hands up and lets them land on her hips.

“I don’t know, honestly.” She says. “I don’t know what you’re up to these days or what you’re doing since you ain’t workin.’ ”

“Well, I’m not a cheater,” I tell her.

 “Whatever,” Aubrey says and goes back into the house. A few seconds later I hear her wooing to the music like we hadn’t just had a heated discussion

I make my rounds and then I pull up two chairs into the front yard for Whitlow and I. Over barbecue and some kind of tequila drink I tell her about UL and the truth about why I'd been on suspension for four months.

“Holy shit,” she sighs. “So, what are they going to do with you ?”

“I don’t know. Because I went to the Academy I’m obligated to serve five years. They can’t just discharge me.”

“But they want to ?”

“I don’t think so. I can’t tell. They put a lot of training into me so they want to use me but they  also don’t want Daniel Reese to go to the press or something. I ain’t proud of what I did. I regret it every day but it’s not enough for him.”

“That is such bullshit, Clark. I’m sorry,” Whitlow says. “Let me know what I can do.”

“Nothing you can do….You got me through A-School. I just figured you should know the truth.”

I let her change subjects. She talks about what she is doing in Alaska, she did saves almost every day. Pretty soon other guys at the party start noticing her and join us, including Trevor and Erik. Whitlow was comfortable being the only girl in the crowd and men were drawn to her. Guys loved that they didn’t have to be on their best behavior around her like they were with girls like Juliana and Amber.

 When I glimpse Wil wheeling out a new keg I stand up to address to the group of men around us.

“Alright ya’ll. I have a special promise to keep to Whitlow here.” I announce looking to the keg.

She gives me double middle fingers and the other guys find this hilarious.

“You bitching out on me ?,” I ask her.

“Leave the girl alone, Rhett,” an older man says.

“Now, now I don’t want to show you up in your own hometown, Clark.” Whitlow says standing up

“C’mon, girl, a promise is a promise. I said I'd get you a keg, so give us a show,” I challenge her.

Whitlow takes a few steps towards the keg. She looks over her shoulder to Wil for permission first and he nods his head with an amused expression on his face.

“Well, I wanna be first in line to hold her legs,” Trevor says rubbing his hands together and a few people laugh and slap his back.

He was too young for her, but he was gunning hard. He’d been teasing her about her California accent all night.

Whitlow shakes off his help.

“Sorry, dude. I just need a spotter and Clark’s the only one who can catch me,” Whitlow says and the guys laugh at this too.

A small crowd forms as she puts her hands on either side of the keg and after a few practice tries does an unassisted handstand on the keg. Wil quickly puts the hose in her mouth and she  stays still, gulping it down  like it’s nothing. When her arms start to shake she eases herself down. It was the classiest fucking keg stand I’d ever seen.

When her feet touch the ground the small crowd loses their collective shit. Whitlow hugs me and a few drunk guys come up to slap her back and tell her about what she just did.

“Damn, where do you find these women ?,” a man I don’t know asks me. “This boy’s already got one who swallows come and now he’s been hiding her ?”

“It ain’t like that, asshole” I tell him

“It’s cause Rhett’s got the pretty boy mug--,” Trevor adds

“Shut the fuck up--,”

“Hey now, ya'll” Wil laughs. “Now ya’ll know this boy’s dick has it too good to stray. College boy here doesn’t know about thin walls…Ya’ll shoulda heard ‘em going at it nearly every weekend when was livin' with Joss. Fuck, even I’m jealous.”

“Then go get your ass,” someone shouts at Wil and they all get distracted by Aubrey dancing on the wooden railing of the patio. She’s moving to the music and swinging her hair and dress all over the place.

They all thought Aubrey was hot, but they never dared got as vulgar as they got when they talked about Juliana. I hated that shit.

“Hey, Come on, motherfucker ! ” Whitlow calls to me, waving the keg hose around.

I try and do the unassisted keg stand and I fail at it.

 I catch a glimpse of Aubrey and Wil humping on the patio railing to the music as I fall.

 They make fun of me as I brush grass from my shirt. 

Someone says something about a drinking contest.

Then I black out.

***

The shouting is what wakes me up.

“YOU GIVE ME THE FUCKING KEYS!,” Aubrey shouts.

“Whoa—okay, okay, okay, back up !” I hear Whitlow yell and then the sound of keys being thrown.

“Honey,I know you don’t expect me to pick those up,” Aubrey snaps.

I’m lying in the grass and someone is trying to take my shoes off. I look down and see Mason at my feet trying to tie my laces together. I quickly glance up to see Aubrey getting in Whitlow’s face and Whitlow looks scared shitless.

As she should be. Drunk Aubrey would love to cut a bitch given the chance.

I try to stand up and fail. The vertigo is so bad it's like the world is shifting colors. I try and tell them to stop fighting but I’m not sure it comes out.

“I only had  two beers…I thought Rhett had to get home…I didn’t know what to do,” Whitlow is saying quickly.

“Two beer and a keg stand you mean ? How about you let family take care of family,” Aubrey shoots back at her. “You ain’t driving him anywhere.”

“I…I have to get to my car. It’s at his house…I…” Whitlow says.

I finally stand up and get in the middle of their cat fight.

“What the fuck did I drink ?,” I say and it comes out like a laugh. I didn’t remember anything after the keg stand which was scary.

“Everything,” Aubrey says. "Fucking everything,"

“Can you watch the kid tonight ?,” I ask her. “I’ll take Whitlow to her house at my car..I mean my car at her…you know what I mean.”

Aubrey rolls her eyes. She's missing an eyelash.

“Fuck you,” Aubrey whispers and walks off, picking Mason up in the process.

I walk Whitlow to my car and she tells me that I passed out during a tequila drinking contest with some random douchebag. The party had started to clear out and she thought she could drive me home since I passed out and Aubrey had snapped at her.

“The people in your family,” she smiled. “They sure will fight for you,”

“Yeah,” I tell her. “It ain’t about me.”

-------------

Juliana

-5-

The quiet seaside café was a welcome break from the bachelorette party weekend madness. The cafe was by a cutesy nautical themed boardwalk in Hilton Head  and I ate a crepe by myself and secretly wondered if there were any Coast Guard bases nearby that Rhett could transfer to. I could see us living here and everything being okay.

I’d hated the way Rhett talked about Amber but after 24 hours stuck by her side I was really starting to understand.

Once we arrived at the huge condo in Hilton Head she’d cut the pious Sunday School teacher act and gone full party girl

There was alcohol everywhere and they’d all been drinking since we got off the plane.

We’d arrived in Hilton’s Head to a catered mimosa brunch at the timeshare. From there we went to a  wine tasting spa, a country club for ladies only champagne golf ; an exotic dance class with free cocktails; a wine and steak dinner in a private dining room and we’d finally ended the night at a male review (which she’d called a dance club in the official schedule) with a three drink minimum and ice cubes shaped like penises.

The dance class had been the worst because I was the only married person and the instructor kept grabbing my hips and telling me how to “spice things up in the bedroom.”. Other than that I was grateful no one mentioned my past working in a strip club.

Amber  had embraced it all. She’d looked gorgeous last night in a form fitting white dress and six inch glitter covered heels. She and Brooke had stood up on the table while four men in shiny thongs gyrated behind them.

I’d only vaguely known there were strip clubs for women and it was strange being on the other side of it. Even with the extra heroin, being around so many strange, oversexualized men made me nervous. The other girls relished the attention of the overbuilt men, but I could tell the men’s affection wasn’t genuine.

I finish my iced coffee and crepe and order another one as Rocket Olsen strolls into the cafe. She'd called me when she saw I was going to be in her state and asked to meet up. She’s wearing a lacey shirt that buttons to her neck and mint green pants with nude color flats. I notice she doesn’t have her recording equipment, which is a first.

I hadn’t seen her in a few months--not since she came to Hartford to visit me after I left the hospital-- and she hugs me and we make small talk about Mason, the bachelorette party and the area.

“So, is your health better since I saw you in Connecticut ?,” she asks once she starts cutting into a hazelnut and chocolate crepe.

“Yes… I’m on this experimental drug,” I tell her

 “I heard through the grapevine that Ensign Clark was put on leave,” she says

“Yeah,” I tell her. “He’s not taking it well at all and I feel like it’s all my fault. My dad told the Coast Guard about some UL stuff”

“I’m sorry,” she says.

“Do you think there is anything you can do ?,” I ask her, even though I know Rhett would hate me asking.

She purses her lips in concentration and rolls her head back and forth.

“I’m not sure who I still know in Washington but I can see if I can have someone put in a good word."

“Thank you,” I tell her gratefully.  “Um, did you want to record something ?”

“Not today,” she says as she wipes her mouth, even though there is nothing there.

“Oh--”

“I actually have something I need to tell you.” she says

Her vagueness makes me nervous. All I can do is stare at her oddly youthful face and unblemished red lipstick.

 “Okay,” I manage to say.

“I want to write a book about you,” she says quickly, gesturing towards me with both of her manicured hands.

“Me ?”

“ Well, I mean about United Light,” she says quickly. “I wrote a proposal for a book about United Light a few months after the APR fact checkers found out about you being in the cult. It was kind of a lark, I've done it a few times before but this time it got me an agent. I wasn’t going to say anything to you unless an editor actually showed interest and it looks like more than one is interested. Nothing is final, but I really think you’d be an amazing source for the book.”

I’m shaking my head through her entire sentence.

“I’m sorry, I can’t do that. Rhett and I don’t talk about United Light--”

“I know and I get it. Which is why I’m being open with you and telling you instead of just doing second hand reporting,” she says. “Juliana,you have a story worth telling. I’ve looked into some reports an  it seems to me that everyone has an opinion about what happened to you and with UL but you never got to tell your own story.”

I didn't want to tell my story, but it did sound like a job.

“So…would I get paid ?,” I ask

“Well, maybe. My agent says if you were to be my main source we can work out a stipend in the publishing contract, but if I paid you it would mean I’d need a lot of your time.”

I considered this. Rhett had exhausted most of his leave and savings and pretty soon we weren’t going to have an income.

And then of course there was Rhett himself.

“I just…I don’t want to screw Rhett over. If I talk about what he did in a book I’d be adding more fuel to my father’s fire.” I tell her.

“I’d have to talk it over with the editor, but we could maybe write around him," Rocket tells me. "I’m not trying to ruin anyone with this book, I just want to shed some light on the kind of charismatic cult culture still present in this country. Did you know most people outside of the South have never even heard of United Light ? ”

“When do you need an answer ?,” I ask

“Sometime in the next few months, I still need to get a contract.” she says. “Just think about it. You’ve been through a lot Juliana and I’d really like us to do this together.”

 

***

When Rocket leaves I walk back to the bachelorette party timeshare to get my bathing suit to meet the rest of the party at the beach. Amber had asked me to do her a “bride favor” and wear a bright colored bikini. I’d agreed, but I bought my knee length cover up.

I jump when I hear someone else moving in the room I shared with Savannah in the timeshare. The rest of the party had gone lingerie shopping with Amber before heading to the beach. I peek inside the bedroom to see Savannah curled up on the bed in a gorgeous red polka dot bathing suit, crying into the pillow.

I go to her and touch her bare shoulder instinctively.

“Savannah, what’s wrong ?,” I ask her.

She’d been having the time of her life at the party. She was only 17 so Brooke had gotten her a fake ID that said she was 18 so she could go to the clubs. Amber had been fine with it as long as she didn’t drink.

Savannah shows me her phone. I open it and see a long block of text from Caleb basically saying he was sorry for breaking up with her like this.

“He broke up with you ?”

She nods her head and fresh tears start falling.

“Rhett said this was going to happen,” she cries.

“No he didn’t,” I tell her even though he had said it as a joke since Caleb had started getting scouted.

“I already brought my dress for prom,” she hiccupped. “How come he didn’t say anything before I bought it ? It was only a week ago ! ”

“I don’t know,” I tell her wishing someone else was with her. Someone more experienced. “It’ll be okay.”

She cries for a little while longer and I decide to do what I'd seen the women at the strip club do when one of them was upset. I pour her half a  glass of some of the seemingly endless wine available at the timeshare. I figured it would calm her down.

“Drink this. Our little secret,” I tell her giving her the glass of wine.

Getting to taste alcohol seemed to perk her up. We steal some of Amber’s designer sunscreen and go sit on the lounge chairs on the timeshare's balcony  in silence, watching the waves on the beach while we drink.

“Do you ever wonder what it’s like to be a guy ?,” Savannah asks once her glass is empty

I had once. When I was with Brad. I didn’t understand why so many men paid to have me do what I did to them, but I can't tell Savannah that.

“Why would you want to be a guy ?,” I  ask her. She couldn’t be drunk. It was barely half a glass of wine.

“Because…the boys get everything--,”

“No they don’t--,”

“Yeah they do. I mean if I want to have a baby I have to go through hours of pain and labor. All I guy has to do to have a baby is have an orgasm--"

"Savannah," I say, shocked that we're talking about sex. She just laughs. " I guess that's just science or biology. It's not fair, but it is what it is."

"Well, fine," she says.  "But they also get to be everything and do everything and we’re just, like…accessories for them--”

“That's not true--”

“Like, everyone at church calls Nana the Sullivan Widow and some people still call Mama Charlie’s widow even though her husband died 16 years ago--,”

“It’s just the way things are I guess” I shrug. “All of my mail says Mr. and Mrs. Rhett Clark. It doesn’t bother me.”

Mostly because I could feign innocence when I accidentally opened Rhett’s mail.

“And like Uncle Deacon has always treated Rhett like he was one of his friends,” she continues. "But he treats Aubrey and I like we’re his children he has to look after. He gave Rhett a condom when he was 14, but he told me I was too young to even be dating a boy and to keep my legs closed. It's such a double standard!"

I had never put it together, but she wasn’t wrong. I’d been called "Rhett’s girl" a lot more than he’d been called my husband. If we went out sometimes men  addressed him, even when asking me a question.The leak of those videos had made Rhett more friends and I was shamed. But I had never questioned much of that. I'd been brought up knowing from a young age I was supposed to be another man’s property.

I sigh and move my chair closer so I can rub the sunscreen on to her back.

“I think…I think  Deacon's like that  because it’s a lot harder for girls in general,” I tell her. “There are a lot of terrible things that can happen to you that can’t happen to Rhett and he's just being protective because he loves you--”

“I know,” she says. “But it still sucks. Everything fucking sucks."

I get up and bring out one of the ice cold bottles of champagne from the ice chest. We drink half the bottle mixed with juice and I listen to Savannah talk about how excited she was to go to college next year. I was proud to be somewhat realated to her, she was smarter than me and thought about things in ways I never had.

“The rest of the party will be back from the beach soon for the next activity.” I say looking at my watch. We'd missed the beach party completely.

“Already ?,” Savannah sighs. “I’m…I’m not really sure my fake ID is worth going to an Adult Wine and Paint. I wish we could do something else”

“Do you like crepes ?” 

------

A/N