Georgia Bottoms by Mark Childress

Christmas morning when she was a kid. She sprang out of bed without pausing for her usual sigh—God, how she looked forward to this day! She loved being the Perle Mesta of Six Points, her house overflowing with ladies oohing and ahhing at the excellence of the food and decor. She loved overhearing their compliments when they didn’t realize she was eavesdropping. Georgia was a long way from wealthy, but once a year she got to feel like the richest lady in town.
    The phone was ringing when she stepped out of the shower.She threw a towel around herself and dripped into the hall. It was Lon Chapman at the bank. He always called before his tellers got in if he needed to make some adjustment to their Tuesday night appointment.
    Georgia was careful to maintain legitimate friendships with the men in her life. It was easier than sneaking around trying to hide their calls from Little Mama. Georgia kept her money at Lon’s bank, for instance, so he had a good reason to call.
    “Hey there,” she said. “How’s the money business?”
    “Come jump in, the money is fine,” Lon said with a laugh. “How’s the beautiful business?”
    “Oh, you flatter me, Lon! And don’t let me stop you.”
    Lon laughed. He was a fun guy—bushy steel-wool hair, wide homely face, a big booming laugh that went off at intervals like a cannon. He talked tough, like a TV detective. He wore swanky clothes (dark shirts, white satin ties) and fancied himself a kind of Six Points playboy, divorced twice when he was younger and single ever since. Several times a year he drove his flashy gold Cadillac to New Orleans for God knows what kind of lost weekend. A few times he’d invited Georgia along, but she’d told him she had no interest at all in New Orleans.
    That was one of her biggest whoppers ever. She hadn’t been to New Orleans, but she knew it better than some people who lived there. She’d read all the books, studied the maps. New Orleans was Georgia’s favorite place in the world. She knew it was her destiny to go there. Every fantasy she ever had about her life ended up in New Orleans. Someday, somehow, when Little Mama was gone, and Georgia’s Six Points days were over, she would get down there. And then she’d never leave. She would cling to that place like moss to a tree. She would grow old there,and die there. They would place her body in one of those elegant marble tombs that hold you up out of the damp.
    It would be nice to make her first trip to New Orleans on the arm of a big spendy guy like Lon Chapman, who would spring for the best cocktails and suppers, the nicest hotel—an elegant French Quarter inn with a courtyard, a fountain, and a banana tree, like the one in the souvenir brochure from Mama and Daddy’s honeymoon.
    “What can I do for you, Lonnie?”
    “Listen, babe, I know you’re busy today but I was hoping I could stop by tonight anyways. Okay? Late is fine with me.”
    “Oh Lon, honey, not possible, sorry. Did you forget? Today is my September luncheon.”
    “Yeah, but that’s lunchtime, right? I’m talking about tonight. As late as you want to make it. I picked us up a nice bottle of vino in Meridian.”
    Georgia felt a little wave of irritation—but slow down, now, why should Lon care a thing about your luncheon? That’s for ladies. Be flattered he even remembered you were having it.
    “Lonnie, I would love to oblige you, sugar, but you don’t know how much work it is cleaning up after all these ladies. They go through this house like a pack of wild dogs. By eight o’clock tonight, I’ll be too pooped to pop.” She lowered her voice. “I’ll make it up to you next week.”
    “Aw come on, Georgia. I need to see you! How ’bout… right now? I could say I got a bank association meeting—”
    Honestly. It wasn’t a month ago Lon called at the last minute to cancel their Tuesday night, some flimsy made-up excuse, and now he wants Georgia to turn cartwheels to work him in on the busiest day of her