Georgia Peaches and Other Forbidden Fruit (21 page)

SUNDAY I GO TO CHURCH
just to avoid my dad. Dana was right about one thing. Mary Carlson's coming-out made its way around the community faster than teachers give a pop quiz on Monday mornings. Even at church there are whispers and raised eyebrows. One mother put her arm on her child's shoulders and steered her far around Mary Carlson in the hallway. Like she was contagious. I can only imagine the ruckus if Mrs. Foley, my step-grandmother, knew I was part of the issue. I tell myself it's better this way, Mary Carlson is strong, she doesn't need my wishy-washiness splotching up her trajectory.

At school, toward the end of the week—I'm still avoiding my dad like the plague and to be honest, he's kind of
doing the same with me—I jot random ideas and lines I think will sound wise in my spiral-bound notebook. I'd left it sitting on the kitchen table for a day, but then decided I didn't break up with Mary Carlson just to walk away from the show. I had my say with my father, but it took me four months to get to my boiling point. I'm not giving up on him yet. Besides, it's a welcome distraction from the Mary Carlson–sized gap in my school day.

I text Dana when I get stuck.

What's another word for “clear of vision”?

Enlightened? Steadfast? Transcendence?

Transcendence, that will work. Thanks.

Got a bitching velvet Elvis tux for the formal. You're going to have to douse yourself to put out the flames. You should wear the bridesmaid dress after all.

I think back to the wedding and that God awful blue flounce.

No dress.

Cool. You'll look hot in pants. We can go for the cabaret look.

I plan on dancing my ass into the ground. Are you prepared?

I am always prepared for my baby Jo.

The librarian coughs from across the room and I cover my phone with my hand in case she's looking my way.

“Who are you talking to?” Gemma and George plop down at my table. Betsy and Jake stand behind them.

Where the hell did they come from? “Uh. Nobody.” But I turn my phone over in a blatant display of guilt. It rattles with another text but I don't pick it up.

Gemma eyeballs it. “You're not going to look at that?”

“Not right now.”

Gemma turns to George. “She's flirting with somebody. And she's not telling us.”

Then to me, “I'm about to snatch up this phone if you don't spill.”

I put my pencil down. “Fine.” I hesitate. “It's an old friend from Atlanta.”

“Ooooooh,” Gemma says. “An
old friend
. In Atlanta.” She presses her palms on the table and leans forward. “What's he like?”

“
She
is my oldest friend and she's obnoxious but cool.”

Betsy slings her arm over my shoulders. “When do we get to meet this old friend? Learn the mysteries of Joanna Gordon.”

“Y'all stop. I'm not mysterious.”

Gemma reaches her hand out like a claw. “Gimme the phone then.”

“No.” I grab as she grabs and we both reach and it's full-on tug-of-war. If I had nothing to hide I'd just let go
and she could look and they'd make a big fuss over whatever texts they expected to see. But the last thing Gemma needs to know is that I'm going to the GSA formal in Atlanta. So I don't let go and the whole phone-suspended-in-air thing gets really awkward until with a mighty pull I wrench it free from Gemma's hand and shove it into my pocket.

“Well, that was intense,” George says.

I know my face is red with embarrassment and anger. “Sorry. But we were texting about something private.”

Mary Carlson, who's appeared as stealthily as the others, butts in. “Then why the big deal? If you weren't
hiding
something, you'd let us see.”

I look directly at her, wanting to tell her so many things. “I'm not hiding anything.”

“Right,
Jo
anna.” She's pushing me. Testing me.

“No. I'm serious. It's nothing.” I look directly at her. “I've got nothing to hide.” Lies on top of lies.

“Aren't you lucky then.”

The other three are watching our exchange with confusion on their faces. My gut aches and words push against my throat.

Mary Carlson flips her braid back over her shoulder. “Well, I need to go to the auditorium before lunch ends.” She nudges Betsy. “I might just be in the process of having a thing.”

“Ooooh.” Betsy nudges her back and Jake calls after her, “Hey, who is it? Is she cute? Can I watch?”

Mary Carlson lifts a middle finger as she disappears. I feel pretty certain it was directed at me.

“That makes me kind of sad.” Gemma pouts. “Me and George, Betsy and Jake, Mary Carlson and drama girl. But what about poor Joanna with nobody but this mystery caller?”

I gather up my papers and start cramming them into my bag. “I'll be fine. Promise. Y'all go do your couples thing. I'm good solo.” The bell rings.

Gemma leans closer. “Somehow, I think you're lying.” Her dark eyes look into mine, cutting their way to some sort of truth, but I look away.

“I've got to go. I don't want to be late.”

In the hallway behind the office, I spot Mary Carlson. She's standing in Deirdre's bubble—too close to be comfortable for friends who aren't flirting. Deirdre's eyes are shining as she tells Mary Carlson something.

Quicksand mires me where I stand and all the hope I'd secretly built up thinking we might fix this drains away. I don't think I fully understood how large that hope had gotten until it rushes away. How in the hell could she move on so quickly? Dana was right after all about the first-fling thing. Or has she been flirting with Deirdre while we were
together? Testing out her options in case I got cold feet? Before I can pull said feet free and retreat, Mary Carlson sees me. She juts out her chin and pushes on her glasses, but she doesn't step away from Deirdre.

I turn and fast walk away from them. My heart clinches and burns and my head screams. This is so messed up. I smack into a wall of flesh.

“Jo . . . anna.” B.T.B. opens his arms wide. I step into his hug without thinking.

When he lets go he looks past me. “Have you seen my sister? Mr. Ned let me leave so I could come help the drama teacher today.”

“Yeah. She's back there.”

“How come you didn't come to our house this week?” He puts his hands together and waits, rocking slightly on his heels.

I shrug. “I messed up, B.T.B. I told you, Mary Carlson is mad at me.”

“Can't you fix it?”

A simple question. But the answer isn't easy. Before I figure out the right words for B.T.B., Mary Carlson and Deirdre round the corner. I know I dumped Mary Carlson. I know I ended it and she's trying to find her place in the new role she's owned, but seriously? It's like she picked the first available queer girl who came along and grabbed
her. My hands shake from being so near them. I don't want to let her see how hurt I am, so I shove them in my pockets.

“What's up, Barnum?” Mary Carlson glances sideways at me.

Deirdre sizes me up, too, with a smirk I want to wipe off that over-freckled face.

“Talking to Jo . . . anna. Trying to find out why she doesn't come over anymore. Why are you mad at her, Mary Carlson?”

“Because she hurt my feelings, Barnum.”

Deirdre nudges Mary Carlson. “Hey, I've got to bounce. I'll call you later about that thing.”

“Yeah, sure.” Then, almost as if she's adding it more for my benefit than her own, Mary Carlson turns on the charm and calls after her, “It sounds so great.” Deirdre winks. Ugh.

When she rounds the corner, I can't help myself. “Just like that, huh?”

“What's it to you anyway?” Mary Carlson betrays herself by wrapping her own arms around her chest. It's a cover-the-pain move.

“Do you even know her?”

“Did I even know you?”

She's got a point. A stronger one than she realizes.

“Please do not fight.” B.T.B. puts a hand on both of our
shoulders. “You need to share the peace rose.”

“It's okay, B.T.B. I'm not mad at Mary Carlson. Only at myself.”

Mary Carlson shifts slightly in response to my words.

“I better go to class.” Then I pull my phone out of my pocket and hold it up for show. “Whatever idea Gemma gave you back there—you're wrong. It's still you, Mary Carlson. It's going to be you for a long time. But if you want to be with Deirdre, I respect that. It hurts. But I understand.” I turn to leave, then look back.

Mary Carlson's linked her arm with her brother's and they're both watching me.

It aches to look at her. To know, soon, she might be kissing that other girl. To know what I've done to her, what I could be doing to help her, and what I'm not because I'm obviously messed up. Because apparently I'm a bigger coward than even I realized.

I take a deep breath. “I'm still your friend, you know, if you ever need to talk.”

Mary Carlson nods once, then pulls B.T.B. toward the auditorium.

IT TAKES ABOUT TWO WEEKS
for my father to break.

Sunday morning, he walks into my room. He clears his throat, his hands braced by his side, and delivers a mini-sermon. “Elizabeth and I have been talking and we've agreed, you can share your truth to the radio ministry at the start of the New Year. We can tie it into making resolutions and planning how to live our lives in service for the coming year. I don't want you to walk away from the show, and more importantly, I don't want to be the man, or father, you painted a picture of when we argued. Elizabeth's waiting for you to take her to church.” And with that, he walks out of my room.

He found his brave even if he hasn't found his apology
yet. But it's enough for me. I'm actually excited to take Elizabeth to Foundation now, because Dad saying I am free to be me means I can spill everything to Mary Carlson.

I'm sitting with Elizabeth—who's finally been given permission to leave the house for short non-stressful activities—and her parents in the sanctuary of the church.

It's hard to watch Mary Carlson.

The sermon is all about not being swayed by earthly desires and the constructs of man, and I swear that asshole preacher is looking between Mary Carlson and her parents, who I guess are being pretty supportive of her.

They sit ramrod straight and it makes me want to run up onto the altar and push that preacher aside and give my own talk about Jesus and tolerance and how God wouldn't have put us here if he didn't have a purpose in mind—if only to see the Baileys' shoulders relax. I make up my mind I'm not coming back to listen to this hater. With good pastors like my dad in the world, I'm not sure how fearmongers stay in business. But fear does make a mighty wall of protection against the things people don't understand.

After the service I walk with Elizabeth down the parish hall. Mary Carlson is a few feet ahead of me, her chin
held high, looking straight ahead.

“I heard about your friend,” Elizabeth says.

“What?”

She lifts a finger toward Mary Carlson. “My mother was hen clucking about it. Saying what a shame that would happen to such a nice family, what with the twin already a problem.”

“I'm sorry, Elizabeth. But your mom's a bitch.”

My stepmom laughs and puts her hand on my shoulder. “She is. But she doesn't know it, so don't be too hard on her.” She clears her throat. “I also noticed Mary Carlson's not coming around much anymore.”

I shrug. “She's got stuff going on.”

“It seems like you might be able to be a big help to her.”

I stop walking. “I could be.”

Elizabeth's hand flutters to her belly. “But you made us a promise.”

“And I've stuck to it.” Well, except for the kissing part and me being pretty sure I'm completely in love with Mary Carlson.

She opens her arms and motions for a hug. I step into it and wrap my arms around her. She talks to the top of my hair and I feel like I'm about eight years old. “It was a ridiculous promise that we never should have asked of you.” She pushes me back to look at me. “Your dad and I talked
the night the two of you had an argument. I'm okay with you coming out whenever you're ready. You won't stress out me or the baby.”

“Yeah.” I step away from her. “Dad came and talked to me this morning. He said I could talk to the ministry at our next recording session.” This is a jagged-edged moment. Nice, but painful. Why couldn't this moment have come weeks ago? When I still had half a chance of making things work?

Mrs. Foley pokes her head out of the adult Sunday school room. “Dear, are you coming?”

“In a second, Mom.” Elizabeth turns back to me.

“But what about your parents? How are they going to react when I tell my friends here in Rome?” I tilt my shoulder toward her mom.

“Pretty sure my father is in love with you, no matter what. My mother, well.” Elizabeth shrugs. “It won't be easy. But the more people who are connected personally to those of different sexualities, the smoother it will get for all of you. Let me deal with her.”

My heart is doing karate chops. I'm pretty sure Elizabeth just told me she's cool with me being out. My dad is moving in the direction of helping me make
Keep It Real
what I want. And if I don't have to hide, then I can be with Mary Carlson. And if I can be with Mary Carlson? A
massive smile breaks across my face. Maybe she and Deirdre aren't really a thing yet. Maybe I still have a chance.

I hug Elizabeth hard. “You know, I almost want to call you Mom in this moment.”

She blushes. “You can, if you want.”

I shake my head. “No, you're too young, it will give people the wrong impression about you. Besides, I like your name.”

“Well, Elizabeth
is
a step up from Three.” She winks at me. “After Sunday school, we'll take lunch to the ministry instead of going with my folks. Get the air cleared a bit more with your father?”

I nod and she disappears into the room. I practically skip down the hall to the youth group. I plop down at the table with the usual gang, sans Jessica, who's teamed up with the glary-eyed haters across the room. “Hey.” I'm breathless and I know I have a smile like freedom on my face.

Gemma's eyes narrow. “Hey, to you. You look like you've had some spice in your life.”

I laugh. Not because she's right, just because I feel so free. I want to stand up and
Sound of Music
twirl in the middle of this room.

B.T.B. matches my smile and I'm sure he can feel love shooting out from my fingers to my toes. Mary Carlson
side eyes me and I smile at her, but she quickly glances away.

“B.T.B., did you know there's an elephant sanctuary just over the border in Tennessee?”

“I do.” He leans closer.

I lean back in my chair and let my arms fall. The weight I've been carrying is evaporating. Sure, it's being replaced with new kinds of small town fear and the usual uncertainty, but I've dealt with that forever, I can keep dealing. My words sail out on breaths of sweet, fresh air. “We should totally go. I can drive you and even though they don't usually allow visitors to see the elephants, we could at least hear the stories.”

“I would like that, Jo . . . anna. Can we take Mary Carlson?”

Her head shifts slightly to the side, her kissable ear listening.

“That would make the day perfect, B.T.B.”

Then she does the quick twitch away again and a troll of doubt settles under the bridge of my brow. What if I've blown it for good?

Pastor Hank walks to the front of the room and clears his throat. The room grows still and his hands flutter a bit. “After today's sermon, I want to make it clear to you all that I trust you. I trust you to know in your heart when
you sin. I trust you to know God's will. And I trust you to suspend your judgment and elevate your kindness. We are a blessed group filling this room.” He pauses and looks around at each table. “A small community shows its worth by the way we treat each other. We are not a pack of dogs throwing out the weak or the injured. Rather, we're like B.T.B.'s elephants. Strong and faithful till the end. Am I clear?”

Well, at least he's not an ass.

Jessica speaks up. “But what about lying? Or lusting?”

This brings a bit of pink to Pastor Hank's ruddy cheeks. “Lusting?”

Jessica crosses her arms and scoots closer to her new group of holier-than-thou friends. “Yes. When it's not wanted. Like a boy wanting a boy. Or say if a girlfriend wants to become a
girlfriend.
”

Gemma leaps to her feet. “Girl, you swoop in and pluck up someone's leftovers and then you've got the gumption to think somebody else wants you, too? Get over your damn self. Nobody in this room is wanting you.” George gives a gentle tug on Gemma's sleeve, but she pushes him off. “No, I'm not done.” She marches up to the little stage and turns to the room.

“Did you know that one in ten of us is going to turn out some sort of queer? So if any of you have a problem
with gay moms or gay nurses or gay policemen or gay friends, you better take the blinkers off your damn eyes and get over it.”

I guess George took her home to meet the folks.

She continues. “A few weeks ago, I would have been sitting right over there with you, Jessica. But things have changed. When the people you love more than anything in the world reveal themselves and they're scared and nervous and fearful of loss of love, then something's wrong. It ain't like they're telling us they're serial killers or child molesters. All they're telling us is they want to be free to love.
To love
. What the hell's wrong with that?” Then she flusters. “Sorry, Pastor Hank.”

But he's grinning and shakes his head that he won't interrupt. I decide Gemma is going to be my first local radio guest after the New Year.

She clears her throat. “That's all I have to say.” Then she glares at Jessica, who looks away.

Some minds can't be changed, no matter how much reason and humanity you throw their way.

George is beaming and Gemma slides in next to him. He kisses her cheek and grabs up her hand in the softest cradle. My own heart pitter-patters watching them, they're so adorable. I shift, hoping Mary Carlson will look at me, but she stays with her eyes locked on Pastor Hank.

He clears his throat. “Thank you for that impassioned speech, Gemma. I'm going to give it some thought before I address it further, but I do think you've brought up interesting topics for a future Wednesday night discussion.” He rolls into instructions for today's activity.

Maybe this is better. I can make peace with Dad. Figure out how I'm going to reveal everything to Mary Carlson in a way that won't make her hate me. Hopefully when I tell her why, and how I didn't intend to get involved, she'll understand.

After Sunday school lets out, I walk with B.T.B., hoping his sister will catch up with us, but she stalls and walks with George and Gemma. Outside, the weather is unseasonably warm for mid-December. It doesn't feel like Christmas is only weeks away. Elizabeth waves to me from where she's already standing by her car.

“Just a minute, Elizabeth.” I turn. I want to ask Mary Carlson if we can talk later today, but a faded blue VW Golf stops me in my tracks. Deirdre is behind the wheel. Mary Carlson leaves George and Gemma and walks across the front of the car to the passenger side. As she stops to fumble with the handle, Deirdre catches me watching. Her big smile, which I'm sure was intended for Mary Carlson, slips into a straight line and her eyes turn from happy to hateful. Then with a cock of her head and a
watch
this
silent message, she turns away from me to greet Mary Carlson in a hug. She brings her hand to the back of Mary Carlson's neck and pulls her closer and I look away before I witness their kiss.

The bottom drops out of my world. And for the second time, my hope burns out.

I really am too fucking late.

“What's the matter, sugar?” Althea pats my knee as I sit next to her in Dad's conference room eating some takeout Chinese.

“Nothing.” I push the Lo Mein noodles around into little spiral patterns. Why couldn't this moment have happened right after Thanksgiving? Mary Carlson wouldn't have connected with Deirdre and we might still have a chance. But I'm not a girlfriend stealer and I fucking broke up with her.

“Looks to me like you got a little heartache happening. This wouldn't have anything to do with that tall blonde you brought around now, would it?”

I shrug and poke at a carrot.

“Come on now, sugar. Let Althea help.”

I sigh. “It's messed up. I wasn't supposed to be with her, but then I was. And then she got excited to figure herself out and needed to let people know, so I broke up with
her because I couldn't go against my promise to Dad and Elizabeth. And now she has a new girlfriend.” I drop my fork. There's no way I can eat with the churning mess of my stomach situation.

Althea pulls me into a side hug. “You've always been a fighter, girl. Always had your own little spark of special. If that girl can't recognize it, then it's her loss. Give it time. Maybe things will shake out like they're supposed to.”

I hug Althea back, soaking in her warmth and her soft magnolia smell. Even though she's not blood, she's the best grandmother I could wish for.

Dad and Elizabeth reappear from the back.

“Joanna.” Dad clears his throat. “Let's you and I talk.”

Althea squeezes my hand and I follow him. Elizabeth gives away nothing in her gaze as she passes me on her way to the food.

I sit tall in the recording booth while my father paces in the small space.

“What's it going to be like for you?”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“I mean, will you be safe? Are there other kids who will accept you?”

“Yes, sir. There's George and Gemma and Mary Carlson. Some girls in drama. I'll be okay. I don't need a whole high school of friends.”

He sits hard in a chair and rubs his mouth before looking at me. “I like you like this, Joanna. Hanging out with young people who share our values. Being involved in the community through youth group. Your friendship with that young man, Barnum. Even your appearance seems less defensive somehow. It feels to me like maybe our new community has strengthened you in ways you could never experience while hanging out with Dana.”

I start to interrupt him, but he holds up a hand. “I'm not criticizing her. I know she's important to you.”

I shut my mouth and play the waiting game. He'll break when he's ready.

When he does, it's with a ragged breath. “Will you pray with me, Jo?”

“Pray?”

“Yes.” He takes my hands in his own and we lean in together. “Dear heavenly Father, please share with me the guidance that you taught us through your son, Lord Jesus Christ. Show me how to be the father she needs and the pastor she wants. Please let Joanna forgive me for my fear. Fear that has stood in the way of me doing the right thing.”