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The knock was loud and persistent. Three taps, three pounds, and a growly rendition of her name, “GIA!” On repeat.
“Coming!” Gia shouted back. Of course, her mother showed up when she was in the bathroom. And of course, hearing “coming,” wasn’t enough to stop the drum solo happening on her front door.
“Fucking hell, it’s hot here,” her mother said when Gia opened the door. No, “hello,” no hug. Just a statement of fact and a soft push to the side as Gianna barged into the modest apartment and looked right and left. “You weren’t kidding—you don’t have any furniture.”
“Hi, Ma,” Gia forced a smile. “You look—good.”
“Thanks, darling. It’s my sober glow. You have it too. Come here, let me look at you.” Gianna dropped a shoulder bag on the stained brown carpet and stretched both arms in front of her, grabbing her daughter’s shoulders as she complied with the request. “Look at these muscles. You been lifting weights?” Gianna wore a caftan similar to what her neighbor favored, but this one reminded Gia of the photos she’d seen of summers in San Francisco in the late ‘60s. Its bright and flowy fabric ensured you wouldn’t miss her mother in a crowd and gave her a hint of hippiness. Was Gianna regressing back to her youth?
“Nah, just working at the market, you know. Lifting canned beans and stuff. Honest work.” That last part may have been a jab. Gia didn’t think her mother had held a job in years, but she always seemed to have enough money. Unless her daughter needed some. She’d insisted on driving her new Honda to California—it was her sobriety gift, she’d said, and Gia suspected, her mother didn’t want to be seen in her fixer-upper on wheels.
“That’s fantastic, doll.”
What was with the pet names?
“Yeah, it pays the bills. Barely. I got this place thanks to Dad’s help, but it’s a stretch. I’m probably going to have to find a roommate.”
“How is your father?” Gianna sat in a metal folding chair in the corner of the living room and looked at her pale pink fingernails. Her short hair was styled into what Gia could only describe as a mini-bouffant, its color reminiscent of henna wash. She didn’t remember her mom as a redhead.
“Fine. Nothing new.” Gia leaned against the wall opposite her mother and wondered how she was going to entertain this woman for a week.
“Well, I’m glad he could help you, sweetie. You got the short end of the stick when we divorced. I don’t blame him for leaving me. I’m glad he didn’t leave you, and I get why you carried on the family tradition.”
“Family tradition?”
“Running away from problems. Your father did it. I’ve done it. It’s not your fault, babe. You learned from watching us.”
Technically, that was true. Gia ran from problems. But still, ouch.
Leaned against an off-white wall absent decoration, the bright light of mid-day streaming through her only window, a hint of sweetness from Gianna’s perfume lingering in the air, it hit her. This wasn’t a social visit. It wasn’t a mother checking on her daughter. This was anamendsvisit, wrapped in some passive aggressive slams against her dad, who had always been there for her. Unlike Gianna. “Mom, it’s okay. Everything’s fine now.”
“Yes, but—it wasn’t for a long time. I can’t help but think you watched my example . . .”
Aha! Itwasan amends visit. Transparent as water, Gianna was there to check a box on a list to secure redemption. To make herself feel better about being a less-than desirable parent.
“It’s okay. We’ve both made mistakes.”
“We have, and I’m sorry, amore. I wasn’t a good example for you. And I sure as hell ain’t been a good mother. I hope we can rebuild our relationship now that we’re both clean.”
Two weeks in the program and Gianna was proclaiming her success. That sounded about right.
“Let’s just take it a day at a time, huh? What do you wanna do today? I have tonight and tomorrow off work, so I can show you the town or—”
“Wanna get a drink?” Gianna threw her head back in amusement. “Lighten up, darling! I’m only kidding. How about we go get some dinner and you show me around? But I need a glass of water first, and a cigarette. You have either?”
“I have water.” Gia said through gritted teeth and walked to the kitchen. Gianna knew she’d quit smoking. This was going to be a long week indeed. “You want ice?”
“Yes, please.”
“Here,” she shoved a pint glass of ice water into her mom’s hands and debated. Mikael had a point. They should go to a meeting. It was Monday—her regular one was the next day. But should she push for that, where sheknewpeople and they’d heard about Gianna? Where they were certain to run into Roxi? Seemed like a bad idea. “You know what? Why don’t we go to a meeting tonight? I think there’s one in Palm Desert on Mondays.”
“I don’t know, kiddo, I want to be on vacation.” Gianna sipped from the glass and re-crossed her legs the opposite way. “I don’t want to spend my time in the desert in some dark room with a bunch of drunks.”
“Okay, but I think it would be good for us. To get re-acquainted, you know? To ground us. And I hate to tell you,we’rea bunch of drunks.”
“Not anymore, doll. And I’m plenty grounded. See?” Gianna placed her freshly crossed leg flat on the carpet. She may not have been drinking, but she was still stubborn.
“Ma, be serious. Let’s grab dinner and a meeting. It’ll be good. And there’s more shopping in Palm Desert.” Hit her where she could hear it, Gia reckoned: Shopping.
