Georgia looked around her backyard. It was full of dozens of people: young couples, elderly neighbors but most especially children. Her own two were holding court by the pool. She sighed with relief to see the genuine smile that lit their faces. It had been a rough few months since she and their father had separated. Divorce was not easy for anyone especially young children. She brought the plastic cup of cheap wine to her lips. They would make it through somehow.
She sighed, content that all was going better than expected with their end of summer barbeque. Given all that had happened these past few months, she had almost canceled the damned thing. Now she was glad that she had not. Looking at her kids, she realized just how much this tradition meant to them. Of course, the biggest challenge was yet to be tackled: she had the barbeque itself to master and close to one hundred pounds of hotdogs, hamburgers, chicken and ribs to cook. By herself. It had always been his job. But he was too busy with his new girlfriend to worry about their annual summer barbeque or how much he was letting their children down.
She forced a smile and waved to neighbor after neighbor as she passed by. If they were going to talk about her, let it be about how brave she was, how good she looked, what a strong woman she was to go on like this when that man did her wrong. As much as she loved living in the South sometimes its charms could be a real pain in the ass when you had appearances to be kept up.
She finally made her way through the large open plan family room to the kitchen, but even that was packed. She fumed as she bit the inside of her check when she noticed that the refrigerator door was wide open and someone was helping himself to whatever had caught his fancy. She was reminded of a saying that her very British ex-husband used...taking the piss. This guy was most definitely doing just that.
She cleared her throat loudly, "Excuse me. Did you need help finding something?"
Her mouth fell open when the man stood up and turned around to face her. Speak of the devil! And James Cargill definitely had become that over the past few months since he had abandoned his family for his young colleague at the office. How dare he show up here? Now.
But with dozens of nosey neighbors looking on, this was not the place to air their dirty laundry. Instead she kept that smile plastered firmly in place as she leaned forward to embrace her former husband. "What the hell are you doing here?" she whispered in his ear as she brushed a kiss on his cheek.
He smiled and returned the kiss on her cheek, "The children invited me. They thought you might need some help with the barbie." He stood up and they stared at one another.
Georgia felt her fake smile falter for half of a second, but she would deal with her children later. Now she had new obstacles to overcome: like surviving the next couple of hours without killing her husband or starting the tongues of their neighbors wagging. "Where is the Barbie doll then?" she enquired too politely.
"Jessica..." He stammered uncomfortably and Georgia could not help but gloat a bit at the way he reddened and shifted from foot to foot. He stared at his sandal clad feet for a long moment before he looked up and met her gaze, "We are no longer together. We have not been for weeks. I just did not have the courage to tell you." He shrugged his broad shoulders in that boyish way that was as close to an apology as she usually got, "I thought maybe the kids had told you."
She shook her head and screwed up her face for a long moment. Pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place then. Like the way he had been calling every day to check on the children. The extra time he had requested to take them to the amusement parks a couple of weekends back. Well, if he thought he could just waltz back into their lives this easily, he was sorely mistaken. It would take a hell of a lot more than cooking some meat to get back into her heart...or her knickers as he called them.
She reached into the fridge and drew out the heavy pan that contained close to thirty pounds of seasoned chicken meat. He stepped between her and the pan, "Here, let me," he smiled like that ridiculous snake around the apple. She wanted to slap him. She wanted to run away and cry. Even though she had sworn months ago that she had shed her last tear over the selfish, arrogant prick that was her husband.
But all their neighbors were gathered around them and she would be damned if she gave them anything more to gossip about. The middle aged woman that lost her husband to the younger, prettier woman had been bad enough. But she had held her head high. Smiled through every saccharine sweet enquiry, 'how are you, my dear,' 'you are so brave,' 'how could a man leave a woman like you.' She would not crack now. A couple of hours. She could do this. She had done so much worse in the past months...although in that moment she could not remember what.
That smile was firmly back in place as she stepped aside, "It won't work, James," she whispered.
He smiled that boyish grin that was exactly like the one their son used when he knew he was in big trouble. "I have no idea what you are talking about. Our children asked for my help so of course I am here for them. And for you too of course."
She wanted to knee him in the groin for looking so innocent. But the neighbors and the amount of money that she had spent on that chicken were not worth the satisfaction she would receive from watching him writhe on the floor in a ball surrounded by a hundred barbeque chicken drumsticks. But she could not help smiling as she pictured that in her head. She squared her shoulders and replied, "Nothing has changed so find what you need in the kitchen and get your job done. I have guests to see too. And gossip to stop." She threw him a final glare as she walked away with her head held high.
She smiled and nodded as she passed neighbor after neighbor. Their stares made even more sense now. The words of her daughter's latest favorite song ran through her head then, "I don't care what they're going to say. Let the storm rage on. The cold never bothered me anyway."
Except it was not cold that she had to worry about. It was the heated gazes of dozens of curious neighbors, piranha all of them. It was the heat too that the man could still set ablaze between her thighs and in her heart. It was even the blasted late summer sun than refused to set at a decent time, that blazed on well past when it should have set, heating the night air until not even a gentle Southern breeze relieved the discomfort of her white cotton sun dress that clung uncomfortably close to her 'glowing' body.
"Damn, damn, and double damn," she cursed as she walked straight to the bar. She knew that she was fanning the fires of those flaming tongues but she did not give a flying fuck. She needed something to get her through the next couple of hours. And cheap ass white wine that you had to sip was not going to get that job done.
Her girlfriend Jill was tending bar, "What's your poison, sweetie?"
"Whatever you have that is strong," Georgia replied as she watched him appear through the patio doors carrying the tray of chicken and several metal utensils. She wondered for a moment if she could get away with an insanity plea were she to walk over there and stab him through the heart with the huge fork.
"Oh darlin', you know we all make mistakes. But the fact that he came to help out today has to mean something," her friend smiled as she handed her a red slushy looking concoction in a large bowl shaped glass topped with an umbrella and everything.
She took a long swig from the straw. All she could taste was sugary sweet punch. She was about to complain to her friend that she had asked for strong when the back of her throat caught fire. She smiled at the woman, "Thanks, sugar, just what I needed. The drink anyway. But your advice sucks."
Jill blushed and shrugged her shoulders, "We can't all be amateur shrinks like you sweetie. But if you don't want all these people talking I would go a bit slower on that zombie."
Georgia took another long sip of the drink, "Zombie? As in walking dead? How appropriate. Just how I want to feel...numb, nothing."
"There is another option you know," her friend smiled slyly.
She did not know what her friend had in mind but the devious look on her face had caught her curiosity that much was for certain. "Go on."
"You could play along. Seduce him. Then kick him out tomorrow morning."
The drinks must have been getting to her because for the life of her, Georgia could not see the purpose in that. "Why would I want to do that?"
"You be the one to hurt him. To walk away. Have the final word. In front of all your friends," she smiled.
The image of a naked James pounding on the front door, begging and pleading for her to let him in danced through Georgia's slightly inebriated mind. She giggled. Her friend's idea had possibilities that was for certain. She lifted her glass and winked, "I'll think about that one, sweetie," she replied as she went off to care for her guests.
The next few hours passed in a haze of Southern charm and bright red slushies. Once the skies darkened and the air began to finally cool, their guests started to disperse to their own homes. It was after eleven by the time that the final ones slipped smiling through the side gate. Only she, James, Jill and her husband Jack remained.
The children were exhausted. But she was in no position to carry them to bed. She could not even manage to carry herself up the stairs to her lonely king size bed. Let alone two drowsy children. Perhaps it would be best if they simply slept on the couch where they had fallen asleep playing video games with Jill's son. As for her? She was perfectly content to sleep in the chaise lounge by the pool under the stars. Well, she might beg Jill for a blanket before she left, but that would do her.
