My Life with the Rymans

Chapter 1

1997 Bushnell, Georgia

It's winter, more specifically it's 45 degrees and I'm happily sitting out on my veranda not listening to my parents scream about who gets what in the divorce. Isn't that what lawyers are for? Yesterday, I heard my mom complain about spending so much on attorney fees yet here she is doing her attorney's work for free. My dad doesn't even really live here anymore, but being that he works from home this is technically his office from 9-5. I don't know why she doesn't work, I know she has money but dare I ask where it comes from and when it will run out. Obviously it's a goldmine since she hasn't had a job since the mid-eighties. I do sympathize with my dad more than her since he actually pays attention to my life and doesn't treat me like an annoying obstacle in his way that he needs to avoid at all costs. She's had a hard life but shit, who hasn't in some way? I glance through the glass door at the comically large calendar on my wall counting down the days until I go to college. I still have 3 months until graduation but it feels like a century away. Especially since I haven't the slightest idea where I'm going. Bonnie has literally known she's going to Georgia Tech since she was 6 years old, not an exaggeration. The Yellowjacket paraphernalia has graced her bedroom walls for as long as I can remember. I know I will get into GT as well however the thought of being that close to home rises bile in my throat. I have plenty of safety schools but I have to get into UVA or I'll just die. "Why UVA?" you might ask. Well there is no destined, meant to be, dramatic dream of a story. One day I saw a brochure and thought "I have to go there". The kids on the cover looked so happy. And I want to be happy too. Now I'm not an idiot, I'm aware they're probably actors. It's far enough away, however not across the country and last year my grandmother drove me there for a tour and I just, well I just...knew. I felt at home. And I'm not really sure I even know what home actually feels like so to me it's a gut feeling that I'm not going to question. I've toured dozens of other schools and the feeling isn't the same. My friends (all 3 of them to be exact) think I should be institutionalized for even considering leaving Bushnell but even with this pint sized town only 45 minutes away from Atlanta I feel like I could suffocate to death.

It seems the screaming has subsided momentarily because Floyd has emerged from underneath my bed. I open the door and he greets me with soft purrs. My only ally in this house it seems as of late. I've never minded being an only child but man in times like these I wouldn't hate having a sibling to share the load. Just as I close the balcony door my dad quietly knocks on my bedroom door. I barely hear it. "Hey Scooter, look, I'm awful sorry it has to be like this. I hope you didn't hear too much. Your mom has some pipes." I cringe at that stupid nickname that he still chooses to call me at eighteen. I let it slide. I sit on the edge of my bed next to him. "I didn't hear anything," I lie. I cross my arms hoping he'll sense my body language means I really don't want to talk about this. I change the subject. "Have you seen Grandmother this week? I've been thinking of taking her out to dinner." He pats my leg and smiles. "I called her this morning and all she talked about was you. She wants to take you shopping for a prom dress." Wonderful. Like I'd go to prom. My mom pokes her head through the door making my whole body freeze. "Paul, it's 5:30, so you can go back to Gloria's now. Lizzy, you were supposed to be at Bonnie's studying an hour ago. Steph just called and asked me where you were. She thought you were in a ditch somewhere." Gloria is my grandmother, he's been staying at her house in Atlanta since the separation.

My dad sighs and I know I've got to get out of here. "Well, Mom, I'm not in a ditch but believe me, I wish I was so I wouldn't have to hear you screaming at dad." My dad stands and looks at me and says, "Lizzy, please-". My mom calmly stops him and shakes her head, "no, no just go. Both of you. I'm too tired for any more of this." We all walk out of my room and I beeline for my car. My dad stops me abruptly. "Lizzy don't take this out on your mom. She's not the villain here. There's a lot you don't know and there's a reason for it. I love you, Scooter, and I'll call you tomorrow." He gets into his truck and I say when he's too far away to hear, "I love you, too and don't fucking call me scooter". But I smile as the words leave my mouth. I get into my Camry and drive the 3 miles to the Ryman house. Bonnie is on the front porch when I drive up. She's knitting. Only someone like Bonnie would be knitting while wearing a Ramones t-shirt and make it actually look cool. I get out of the car and can't help but giggle. "Dude shut up. My mom loves this shit and I might love it a little too because it shuts my brain off." She smacks my butt and says "cool jeans Liz, the last time I saw them they were in my closet, how'd you pull that trick?"

Now, when you hear the name Bonnie, your mind automatically takes you to some braindead cheerleader with big boobs and blonde hair with a bubblegum pink personality. That's not my Bonnie. My Bonnie has box-dye fire engine red hair with a large septum piercing and wouldn't be caught dead in the color pink. In fact, her wardrobe is exclusively the opposite of pink. None of it makes any sense because she is, in fact, worshipped like she's that bubblegum pink cheerleader and she couldn't give less of a fuck about that which makes her even cooler. I think that's why she's popular because she really doesn't even know it. Deep down below the Paint it Black closet she's a huge nerd and would do anything for the people she loves. She's also one of the smartest kids in our class.
Then there's me, Lizzy Draper, named after Thin Lizzy because I was conceived after my parents went to their concert which is the grossest thing I've ever heard. There's nothing that makes me stand out except for my huge thighs and boobs. I developed way earlier than the other girls in our class and it's always embarrassed me so I hide under my clothes to prevent anyone from noticing. It doesn't work. I've never told Bonnie this, but I've envied her since we were children. I don't even know if envy is the right word, more like I'm in an absolute utter awe of her.

She hates the name Bonnie which is why she prefers to go by "B". She tells everyone she was nicknamed this by other kids in our school when we were in 6th grade but the truth is she came up with it herself and made me and our friend Samantha call her that in hopes that it would catch on. It did. She's also a very out and proud bisexual. She claims she realized this when she watched Fast Times at Ridgemont High with her stepbrother Devin when she was 11 years old. She says watching Phoebe Cates come out of that pool was her sexual awakening but not to worry because, as she so tastefully puts it, still "loves to get dicked down."

"It's freezing, weirdo. Let's go inside," I tell her as I roll my eyes and continue to giggle. Bonnie's stepmom is in the kitchen making dinner. She basically raised Bonnie when she married her dad. Bonnie was only 4 years old when her bio mom left her to move to California with her lesbian lover. She and Bonnie haven't spoken since Bonnie was 8 years old.

"Hi Liz! I'm making ravioli. Are you staying the night?" Bonnie's stepmother is half Brazilian and looks like she just stepped out of a Victoria Secret catalog. "Yes, Steph, if that's fine with you." Her name is Stephanie but she insists I call her Steph instead of Mrs. Ryman. Bonnie's dad died a few years ago after a long battle of cancer. They've all handled it very well. "You're welcome anytime babydoll," she smiles and continues cooking. We head upstairs to Bonnie's room. She goes ahead of me to the bathroom and I pass her stepbrother Devin's empty, very messy room. I stare for far too long as he sneaks up behind me in the hallway. "What are you doing, kid?", he asks. I nearly jump out of my bones. "We're the same age, Devin. It's weird when you call me 'kid'." He snorts and goes in his room and shuts the door. My spine tingles. You know that stereotypical hot guy in every John Hughes movie? Yeah, that's Devin. Popular, yet brooding and unassuming. He's the male version of his mother, gorgeous and statuesque. Bonnie's dad legally adopted him shortly after he married Steph. He and Bonnie are basically twins, their birthdays are 2 days apart however they couldn't be more different. They may as well be from different planets. He's hot but so not my type. Not that I really even have a type, who am I kidding.

"You good there, Liz?", Bonnie teases as I'm a deer in headlights still standing at Devin's door. "You're so subtle," she whispers. "You guys should just fuck already." I look at her in horror. "B that is so messed up on so many astronomical levels," we both laugh running to her room and slam the door.