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At the end of the day, all I wanted was for Maria Savage to get to see that the little twelve-year-old asshole she took into her home—and into her heart—has grown up and made her proud. I wanted her to see that, thanks to her, and her ability to dream so fucking big for me, that little asshole is now sitting at the judges’ table on her all-time favorite show. I wanted her to see she did this. She took an angry and distrustful pile of shit and turned him into something golden. Someone people actually care about. All because Mimi cared first and so fucking well.
About fifteen minutes into the show, I glance down to find Mimi’s eyes closed. I look in panic at the monitor next to the bed and exhale with relief when the neon line marking her heartbeat is still bouncing up and down, albeit slowly.
“Is this it, Felicia?” I ask the caregiver. “Will she wake up?”
“I think she will,” Felicia says. “But she’s close now, Adrian. Very close.”
I swallow down the lump in my throat and kiss the top of Mimi’s head. I whisper, “You can go now, Mimi. Have a picnic with Jasper and Frank. I’ll be right here the whole time, holding you, so you won’t be alone as you cross the bridge.” A sob catches in my throat, but I take a deep, halting breath that somehow chases it away. I clear my throat. “Felicia, will you do me a favor and let Sasha and Laila know I’ve had my alone-time with Mimi, and they’re welcome to come in now? In and out, if they want. Any time. But tell them I’m going to stay right here with my grandma, without letting go of her, for as long as it takes.”
Twenty-Eight
Savage
Los Angeles, California
Two weeks later
I stop my car in front of Reed Rivers’ iron gate, roll down my window, and press the intercom button.
“Adrian!” a female voice says.
“Hey, Abu!” I say, recognizing Amalia’s sweet voice. I smile into the camera on the box. “What’s shaking, woman?”
Amalia giggles. “Reed isn’t here, Adrian. He and Georgina are out to dinner. Was he expecting you?”
“Nope. I came to steal you away from Reed, as a matter of fact. So pack a bag and let’s gooo!”
Amalia laughs. “I’ve told you I’ll never leave Reed. But I can offer you some tea and conversation.”
“I’d rather steal you away, but I guess some tea and conversation would be a nice consolation prize.”
The gate buzzes and slowly begins opening, and I drive through and park near the front door—and by the time I get out of my car, Amalia is already standing there waiting for me.
I hug Amalia in greeting and squeeze her tight, and as I do, every bit of pain I’ve been holding in and stuffing down since Mimi died surges inside me.
When the time finally came the day before Christmas, Sasha, Laila, and I were at Mimi’s side. After that, Laila remained in Chicago with me through Christmas and beyond, as Sasha and I threw together a small funeral for our grandma, which my bandmates attended, as did some of Mimi’s old neighbors, her caregivers, and Sasha’s mother.
After that, I insisted Laila take the trip to Cabo we’d originally planned to take together, but with her mom, sister, and baby niece. I told Laila I could use a few days to grieve with Sasha in Chicago, and then on my own in LA. And it was the truth when I said it. But the minute Laila left Chicago, I felt like I was missing my right arm. And when I walked into that stupid reality TV mansion in LA, all by myself, I felt like I was missing not only my other arm, but both legs, too. As it turned out, I didn’t want to be alone, like I’d thought I would. I wanted to be with Laila.
I release Amalia from our warm hug, made even warmer by the cool night air.
“My grandma, Mimi, died,” I say softly. “The day before Christmas.”
Sympathy washes over Amalia’s elegant face. “Oh, Adrian. I’m so sorry.” She hugs me again and then guides me inside. In Reed’s kitchen, I sit at the table while Amalia puts the kettle on. And we talk, every bit as easily as we did the last time, even though I’m not shitfaced this time.
As we drink our tea, we talk about Mimi, at first. After a while, however, we talk about spirituality, in general. The fact that we both believe Mimi is still with me, and always will be. And, finally, I tell Amalia about Laila. Specifically, I admit I’ve fallen desperately in love with her, but haven’t had the nerve to say the magic words to her, just yet.
“I guess I’m waiting for the perfect moment,” I say.
