Falling Fast
Page 2

“You should be thanking me for saving you from that. What kind of life would that have been?”
“Thanking you?” I whisper in disbelief and disgust.
“I didn’t have to accept responsibility for you after your father passed away.”
“You’re right. You didn’t. But you also would have been out of a lot of money if you hadn’t. I read the will; I know part of the stipulations for you receiving money was you taking over custody of me,” I remind her, and her nostrils flare.
When she married my father, she had nothing. She may have dressed in fancy clothes, talked like she had traveled the world, and had expensive taste, but she didn’t come from money or have any when she married my father. She was his secretary, that’s how they met, and I don’t even really know if my dad was having an affair with her when my mother was still alive.
“Your father and I were married. What was his became mine.”
“That still doesn’t explain to me why you kept me from my grandmother, why you told me she was dead when she was very much alive.”
“Your father wouldn’t have wanted you living with that woman or in that town.”
“You don’t know that,” I respond quietly.
She sits up a little taller. “I do, and I did what I had to do in order to honor his wishes. I knew if she told you she wanted you to move to Tennessee after your dad died that you would have gone. You would have gone there, dropped out of school, and ended up pregnant, living in a trailer with five kids and a husband who stepped out on you every chance he got. I saved you from that life.”
“Are you insane?” I ask, wanting to reach across the table and wrap my hands around her slim throat.
“Your father told me all about that place. He told me how much he hated it.”
“He never hated it. He fell in love with my mom in that town.”
“And he wished he wouldn’t have,” she says like she’s telling me what color the sky is or where she bought her shoes.
The statement is casual, but the pain it leaves behind is devastating, because I know she’s telling the truth. I overheard my father say more than once after my mother’s death that he wished he hadn’t fallen in love with my mom. I thought it was because he didn’t think he could push past the pain of losing her after she was gone, but maybe it was something else. Maybe he never really loved her at all.
“I don’t want to fight with you, Gia,” she sighs, rubbing her forehead like talking to me is too much for her to handle.
“I’m leaving town in a couple days. My grandma needs me. I don’t know when I’ll be back.”
“You’re an adult now. You can do what you like. I can’t stop you.” She waves my statement away like it means nothing to her. Like I mean nothing to her.
It shouldn’t hurt but it still does.
“Right.” I push back from the table and stand. I don’t look at her as I walk away; I’m too focused on staying upright. My legs shake as I head through the crowded restaurant toward the door, but surprisingly I make it out to my car without falling to my knees in the parking lot. Once I’m in my Jeep and behind the wheel, I close my eyes and drop my head back to the headrest behind me. I wish my mom were here to give me advice and tell me everything is going to be okay, and I wish my dad were here so I could yell at him and tell him what an asshole he is for leaving me with that bitch.
“Pull it together, Gia. You’ve got shit to do,” I whisper to myself.
Opening my eyes I start up my car and head home. As I pull into the driveway at my house thirty minutes later, I smile when I see my best friend has already made it home. Shutting down the engine, I grab my bag then get out and slam the door, making sure to set the alarm so my Jeep doesn’t get jacked, which has happened in the past. I live in an okay neighborhood, but crime happens all the time around here, especially car thefts.
“Took you long enough to get here,” my best friend since childhood, Natasha, greets me, holding open the screen door to our place with one hand, while holding a glass of wine in the other. Looking at her, I know she’s been home for a while, since she’s already taken off her makeup, put her ash-blonde hair up in a bun, and switched out her work clothes for sweats and a baggy hoodie.
“I went and met up with Colleen,” I say, walking past her and taking the glass of wine from her hand as I go.
“Yeah, what did the fish have to say about all of this?” she asks, using the nickname she gave Colleen after she got her lips done when we were twelve.
“She said she saved me from having five kids and a husband that cheats on me.”
“Shut the fuck up. She did not,” she growls, going to the fridge and grabbing the bottle of wine.
“She did.” I plop down on the couch, taking a huge gulp from the glass in my hand before continuing. “She also told me that my dad wanted her to keep me from my grandma.”
“Why would he want that?” She frowns, picking up the remote and turning off the TV.
“I don’t know, but I believe her. He never really got along with grandma, and after my mom passed away, their relationship only got worse.”
Bringing the bottle of wine with her, she comes over to the couch and takes a seat next to me. She then takes the glass, fills it back up, and hands it back to me. “But to tell you that your grandma is dead…? That’s extreme, even for her.”
“I know,” I sigh, taking another gulp of wine, hoping the alcohol will kick in and the tension in my shoulders will ease.
“So you’re really going to Tennessee?”
Meeting her gaze, my eyes water. “Yeah, I’m really going.”
“How long will you be gone?”
“I don’t know. However long I need to be there.” I shrug. “Nina says she has dementia, and I don’t know how bad she is or what I will need to do.”
“You just got a promotion,” she reminds me—news I got just a few weeks ago. Jana offered me my own class and a two dollar an hour raise, something I hadn’t been expecting. I was more excited about having my own class than the extra money. I had been working hard at proving I was capable of running my own classroom and looking forward to all the things I would do with my students. “Will Jana hold your spot?”
Coming out of my thoughts, I bite my lip and shake my head. “She told me I’ll have a job whenever I get back, but she can’t guarantee me my own class, since it wouldn’t be fair to whoever takes my position.”
“Dude, you’ve worked so hard.”
“I know, but it’s my grandma. We use to be close, really, really close, and she needs me. My mom would expect me to go, and I would hate myself if I didn’t.”
“That’s true,” she agrees, sounding sad, and I notice tears in her eyes that match the tears filling mine. “I’m just being selfish, because I’m going to miss you.”
“I’m going to miss you too, but I’ll be back.” I wipe away at the tears on my cheeks with the sleeve of my sweater.
“You better come back.”
“I will… well, unless I find some hot cowboy and fall in love,” I joke, and we both laugh, since we know that is never going to happen.
“If you find a hot cowboy, you better make sure he has a hot friend. We have a plan, remember?”
“How could I ever forget?” I ask, resting my head on her shoulder, remembering the deal we made when we were seven. That deal being we’ll find guys who are best friends, get engaged at the same time, married, buy houses next door to each other, and then get pregnant so our kids can grow up being best friends just like us.
“I can’t believe you’re going to Tennessee. Do they even drive there, or do they get around on horseback?”
“You’re an idiot.” I close my eyes, smiling, and then whisper, “I love you.”
“You too, always, and whenever you need me, I will be there.”
“Thank you,” I get out through the tightness in my throat. Natasha has been the one constant in my life since I can remember. She’s the one who sat with me at my mother’s funeral, holding my hand. Then later, when my dad was diagnosed with the tumor that took his life, she was always right there with me, going to the hospital and sitting next to his bed until he took his last breath. She’s my family, just like I’m hers.