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“What happened?” Marissa asked.
I strolled past her to into the kitchen, removed two glasses from the cabinet, then poured us each a glass of red wine. She followed me and placed her purse on the counter. She took my bruised hand in hers and caressed it gently. After ordering Orson to get the first aid kit, she focused back on me.
“I called you,” she said. “I’m sorry I was upset over the phone, but I had every right to be. By the way I scheduled another meeting and you’re welcome. They are still willing to meet with us as long as you have a good explanation for why you stood them up. I would have given them a reason, but you never tell me anything these days.” She took the first aid box from Orson and spread it out on the counter. Ripping open an alcohol pad pouch with her teeth, she asked, “what happened?”
“I was busy.”
“With what? Or should I ask, with whom?”
I pulled my hand back and stood.
“Marissa, I am-“
It was then that Gia walked into the kitchen. Even though I was infuriated with her decision, I felt it my duty to care for her. I moved towards her quickly, pulling a stool for her to sit.
“Don’t pity me,” she whispered.
“Now you’re not going to accept my help? Make up your mind. Either it’s all or nothing. I don’t care what I promised Morla.”
“I don’t need your help.”
“Yes, you do.”
Before we got into another argument, I heard something slam on the counter and watched as Marissa swayed away angrily. She was not supposed to find out this way, I know I should have told her. I turned back to Gia and met her hard stare. The woman I knew was certainly stubborn but at least would not refuse some lifesaving surgery.
Maybe that Gia was gone forever.
All I wanted to do was fall to the floor kicking and screaming, throwing a tantrum any two-year-old would be proud to witness.
