Page 38 of Taming Georgia

I stop, hesitant to continue, but for some reason, I do. “I’m not going to lie; I was tempted. The idea of escaping my reality was a strong pull. Yet I’d seen what drugs did to my mom. She wasn’t a good mom, to be honest. I looked to Cooper, and I couldn’t risk anything happening to him. I knew if I was high, then I wouldn’t be able to take care of him the way I should. He’d been through so much. I couldn’t stomach the thought of him being taken when I was stoned and someone hurting him. He was my only family. He was my everything. Cooper saved me in more ways than one.”

I pull in behind the hardware store where a homeless friend Nancy and her pit mix LuLu stay and put the truck into park.

“A lot of people think it’s selfish for homeless people to have a dog. But I don’t think the dogs are unhappy. They’re loved, and that’s all any animal wants. In most cases, they’re fed better than their humans. These dogs are everything to their owners. And sometimes, the love and responsibility these people feel for their dog is all that’s keeping them alive. I try to get them off the street. I offer them jobs. Some of them take me up on my offer; some don’t. Xavier is one who’s been able to get off the streets and turn his life around. But not everyone wants off of the streets for various reasons. Who am I to judge them or their journey in life? So, I help them and make sure their dogs are healthy because I can.”

I turn off the truck’s ignition and step out, shutting the door behind me. The pressure and stress that’s ever present, constantly pressing down on my chest, feels a little lighter. Georgia officially knows more about my life than any other person. I’m not sure how opening up to her makes up for the way I’ve treated her, but it feels like it does, in a way.

Georgia meets me at the back of the truck as I pull out another duffel bag. “How did you get off of the streets?” she asks.

I can’t help but smile. “Ethel found me.”

10

“I hate that I feel this pull toward him, but more than that, I can’t stand the fact that he hates me, and I don’t even know why.”—Georgia Wright

The wine bottle and grape decor really needs to be updated, the tables are too close, and the food really isn’t anything like the pasta found in Italy. But there’s no denying the softness of this breadstick.

The waiter rushes past our table and takes a step back when he notices our breadsticks and salad bowl are empty.

“Refill?” he asks.

“Yes, please,” I say with my hand in front of my mouth so as not to spray him with partially chewed goodness.

Ethel sits across from me and laughs. “How are you going to have any room for your meal?”

I shake my head. “I won’t. Don’t you see? That’s the beauty. I fill up on this delicious salad and yummy breadsticks, and then I get to eat my pasta tomorrow. Pasta’s always better as leftovers anyway. The noodles absorb the sauce, making it way yummier.” I shove the last bit of the garlic bread into my mouth and lick my fingers. “I will try to save room for dessert.”

Ethel chuckles. “Well, this is so sweet, Georgia. Really. I don’t remember the last time I was taken out to dinner.”

“Everyone deserves a nice birthday dinner. Though I would’ve splurged for someplace a little fancier than Olive Garden.”

“No, I haven’t been here in over twenty years. This place brings back fond memories. It was my late husband, Earl’s, favorite restaurant. Whenever we went out to eat, which wasn’t often, he’d want to come here. Funny thing is that he always ordered the sirloin, never a pasta dish. It never made any sense to me.” She stares off past my shoulder, a dreamy smile on her face.

“Well, I wish I had been able to meet him. He had to be wonderful if he was married to you.”

“Oh, he was.” She nods. “He was a great man.”

“I’m really sorry that Wyatt didn’t show. I thought he would.” I peer toward the hostess stand again to make sure he isn’t standing there, waiting, but of course, he isn’t.

“It’s not a problem. He’s always so busy.”

“Yeah, well…” My voice trails off. Speaking ill of Wyatt on Ethel’s birthday wouldn’t be very kind.

“You two seem to be getting along better lately.”

“We had a heart-to-heart the other day.” I shrug.

To this, Ethel really laughs. “Wyatt doesn’t do heart-to-hearts. Spill the juicy details,” she says as she dabs the side of her eye with the cloth napkin.

“I basically yelled at him and told him to stop treating me like crap. I think he felt sort of bad because he opened up some after that. Like he told me a little about his mom and the drugs and about you finding him on the street.”

Ethel’s eyes go wide. “He did?”

“Yeah.” I nod casually. I’m being intentionally vague because that’s literally all he told me, but I want Ethel to tell me more.

“I’m surprised. He doesn’t talk about his mom or anything really—at least, not to others.”

“It was during our duffel bag drop-offs. So, I know you found him and Cooper and got them off the streets, but how did it all play out?” I take a bite of the whole banana pepper from the salad that was just delivered, and the tartness makes my face scrunch up.

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