Real Bad Things(90)

She was a woman who had faced down a monster. Even with her future as uncertain as Jane’s had been when she’d been released years ago, not a bad way to walk out the doors. She pulled her sunglasses out of her purse and slipped them on. Her car was waiting for her in the same spot she’d left it when she’d confessed.

Outside, she greeted Rusty with a small smile. The last time they’d spoken, she’d said she wanted alone time. Funny.

“Thank you for bringing my things.”

He handed over a small suitcase she’d asked him to fill with clothing and a few personal effects. They’d both agreed it would be best if she found another place to stay. He’d been hurt when she declined his visits, if not his phone calls. She’d answered his questions as best she could:

Yes, it was true.

No, she had not meant to kill a man. (If he was indeed dead.)

Yes, she was genuinely sorry. (She was sorry she had hurt Jane.)

No, she had not planned it.

No, she was not coming home soon.

Which is why she had encouraged him to date, what with their recent talk of divorce and her expectation of being locked up until she died. He had agreed it might be best. For closure. Christlyn and Susannah, whom she had allowed to visit, had relayed that he’d wasted no time jumping on dating apps as soon as she’d confessed, according to their sources, whom Georgia Lee suspected were their husbands. That stung a bit. He could’ve at least waited until she’d known for sure she wouldn’t die in a state women’s prison. But she had not communicated that, so she would not blame him.

“You sure you don’t want to come home? The guest room’s all made up.”

“I’m sure,” she said. He looked relieved. “How are the boys?”

He shrugged and looked at his watch. She couldn’t tell if he was still hurt, didn’t want to be associated with such a wicked woman as her, or was late for a date.

“Oh, you know,” he said.

She didn’t. Perhaps they were upset, or embarrassed. Probably embarrassed. Mothers were embarrassing enough to teenage boys without adding a murder charge on top. But maybe they were like Tom and Susannah. Maybe she could be a hero to them at last. “Are they terribly disappointed in me?”

Rusty scratched at his chin. “They were excited that you know Jason Tran.”

She gritted her teeth. They probably bragged about it at school. Not her role, of course. She regretted believing for one second that they’d care.

“Do let them know I’m thinking of them. And that I’ll call them soon. When things have settled.” A rush of motherly feeling came up. She wanted them there, and she didn’t want them there. She wanted them to care. “Tell them I love them.”

She hoped they would forgive her for what she had done once they realized what she had done was wrong and not equal to what they watched on Friday night wrestling—and nothing to either cheer or high-five, which they’d apparently done during a KMSM interview, to her horror. And for not being there through critical moments of their senior year, their childhood. For not being the mother she should have been to them. But there would be time, years, to untangle that mess.

For now, she released Rusty from his chore and let the sun and wind grace her face for what felt like the first time in years.

She stood there for as long as she wanted, not caring what anyone in the station or anyone outside would think. A small, habitual part of her had hoped a news crew awaited her release, but she stood in the parking lot alone. Birdsong flew along the breeze like the birds were saying welcome home.

Home. She didn’t know where that was anymore. It wasn’t the house she’d driven to for years.

Maybe she’d leave Maud. Her dreams felt big, yet small. The more she had sat in her cell, her release almost assured and imminent, the more she pondered that dream of hers, the one with a small house, alone. And the more she wanted it. In quiet moments, she tingled in anticipation of what that place might be. Who she might meet there. Who she might be. The real her. The one who didn’t worry about what other people thought. Whether or not she was too old for the kind of happiness she’d dreamed of in youth. But she was willing to see. Even if it was only a dream, never to become tangible or true.

Underneath all that, Diane’s threatening whispers from that one night they held her for assault on Jane. Jason caught between their two cells, unable to stop Diane’s chants.

Georgia Lee, Georgia Lee, nothing but misery.

Especially when I get done with you.

Don’t fall asleep.

I’ll slit your throat.

I’ll shit inside your body.

I’ll feed it to your boys.

She shuddered at the recollection.

From the corner of her eye, she caught movement. And then the person Georgia Lee had once pledged forever and ever to stepped away from the station wall, where she’d been waiting.

Thoughts of Jane had not subsided. Rather, they settled over Georgia Lee like a warm summer day. A remembrance of a good place she could return to in the dark days that she had assumed awaited her.

Georgia Lee could tell it was hard for Jane to be near her. It was hard for Georgia Lee as well, and unsettling to know she had the capacity to do such a thing. Murder and lie.

“Can we talk?” Jane asked.

Georgia Lee breathed in deeply to prepare herself for the next bad thing.