Carolina Moon by Jill McCorkle

Author:Jill McCorkle
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Algonquin Books
Published: 1996-08-31T04:00:00+00:00

GROUNDHOG DAY 1985

Dear Wayward One,

It’s our anniversary tonight. Twenty years since we had our own little ceremony out at the Holiday Inn on the highway. My husband always asks me why I love Holiday Inns so much. He recently tried to get me to stay in like a Marriott or something really swank when we went down to Georgia for a little holiday. Nope. Holiday Inn for me. He thinks I’m thrifty—imagine that! Oh no, love, it’s the plain dull furniture, the same arrangement of everything bolted down, the same taste of coffee that he brought back to the room in a styrofoam cup, that YOU brought back to the room in a styrofoam cup that next morning. “To my make-believe wife,” you said and leaned down and kissed me. My husband thought I was visiting my childhood friend and of course we did do that! In those days I just couldn’t lie, not like I’ve learned to do lately. Now I am a professional liar. Watch out because you can’t believe a word I say. I mean, maybe you think I’ll tell you the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help me God because you are dead but honey, dead don’t count. The truth is that I am just as drunk as I can be. I am as drunk as I got that time I wasted all of our screwing time throwing up there in a rented lavatory that smelled like old piss. Oh dear, am I shocking you dead man? Am I making you feel bad? I can’t imagine it feels as bad as being without a head. HA! I can’t imagine it feels as bad as being the one left behind. I didn’t mean for this to go this way. You see the truth is that my husband and I just got back from the most wonderful dinner out. We drove to the beach. We’re AT the beach in a nice hotel and he has just fallen asleep after some of the best lovemaking I have done in my life. Eat your old decayed heart out! It’s so convenient that we’re here, because you see I don’t have nearly so far to go to mail your little old shitty letter. I guess you wonder why I always go to that same old box. Well, first of all, it gives me a reason to drive down here and hear the waves and second, it is the closest box to where you croaked. SO THERE! If you are some ghost haunting your last spot, then this is as close as I can get to you unless of course I walk down to the point and go up into your room there. The house is disappearing you know. With every high tide, with every high wind, a little bit more is gone. Soon there will be nothing, no place for me to go and stand, should I ever get up the nerve, and no place for you to stand in some foggy stupid form, you stupid ass of a selfish man.

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