White teeth flash in the predawn darkness as she stops in front of me. Shaking her head, she explains, "Georgia's going to kill you."
"Whatever," I shrug opening the door marked "Exit Only."
Taking my seat at the counter, I sip coffee peacefully until a rolled up newspaper slams on the counter. I jump and spill coffee everywhere.
"I'm going to kill you," Georgia says leaning into me.
"Pffssss," I hiss grabbing napkins. "No you won't. I made you famous."
"You busted me out," she snaps, again slapping the rolled up newspaper on the counter.
"Sit down. Let's split breakfast," and we order hash browns stuffed with broccoli, mushrooms and jack cheese.
"I don't care about that other shit," she says leaning into me again, "but you told everybody I'm the Phantom. It's a secret dammit."
Putting my arm around the large woman with leather skin, short cropped grey hair and clothes stained the colors of the rainbow, I say, "Georgia everybody already knows you're the Phantom. I just put it in a book."
"They do not," she shoots back.
Rolling my eyes, I pick up Running with the Dolphins and sign it for her.
A book about Tybee Island, where I live and love, is impossible to write without including Georgia. Singlehandedly, she coached every kid on the island in sports, grew a Girl Scout Troup out of nothing and delivered the newspaper to every home with a Ninja precision from a car speeding down side lanes at 35 miles an hour.
The cops were scared of her.
And she was the Phantom. If anyone was sick, in need, hurting or had died, Georgia would "mysteriously" leave cards, toys, food, even medicine on the door stoop. The morning of a funeral she'd have The Breakfast Club prepare a full breakfast for the family and "secretly" take it to them.
She pretended she was tough and pissed off but hers was a heart of pure gold. Mother Teresa on steroids. An Angel with an attitude.
Sadly she died this week.
It's with joy there's a new story about her. Writing about the island a decade later, she's still too much part of the place, I had to include Georgia in Sandy Bottoms & Duct Taped Hearts.
The last time I saw her, Robin again cornered me at The Breakfast Club asking I visit her mother. I drive to St. Joseph's Hospital, find her room, open the door and Georgia screams"WHAT IN THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?"
"I understand you're dying," I answer strolling to her bed.
"BULLSHIT!" she screams.
It's just very hard to not love her.
That's the beginning of the story and it pleases me Georgia has another testimony to her incredible legacy.
A celebration of her life will take place on the ball field where she taught so many kids so many things. Though I'm certain I'll cry like a baby, I'm proud to officiate.
I love you Georgia.
Now you're really the Phantom that you always wanted to be.
Kick some Holy ass like I know you will.
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You can purchase a copy of "Sandy Bottoms & Duct Taped Hearts" at http://www.meellc.com/wordpress/newbook/
