AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Don’t thank me,chica. You’re important to me. I care about you, and I don’t want to lose what we have, okay? So whatever it is, save it. For when you can deliver.”
“I will.”
“And you’d better fuckin’ deliver. I don’twaitfor people. You get that, right?”
“Yeah. I will. Promise.” Gia took Roxi in her arms and hugged her tight. The faux crispness of evening air erased by warm skin against hers, and for a moment, she wanted to do it again. Wanted to finish the sentence that Roxi wouldn’t let her. It wasn’t fair to either of them. Though her body wanted to scream, “I’m in love with you!” her mind tightened the muzzle. Roxi’d stopped her for a reason. Which meant Roxi already knew. More words weren’t the answer. “I gotta go. My neighbor has some secondhand smoke and stories waiting for me. Sorry about the tussle.”
“Who says ‘tussle’? And for the record, you’re not a basic dyke. You’re at least a mid-grade dyke.” Roxi kissed Gia’s cheek and squeezed her hand. “’Night. Let me know you got home. Say hi to Mrs. Edelman and the wildgato.”
“’Night.” Gia patted down the hairs on her arms as Roxi walked—slowly—back to her party.
And therein lay the truth no advice could quell. Derrick suggested asking Roxi to wait. Mrs. Edelman hinted at breaking the rule. But the only person who understood was the other one impacted. Roxi wouldn’t let her break the rule, which only made her want to break it more.
???
She needed a meeting more than secondhand smoke and stories about days gone by, so Gia wiggled into the driver’s seat, drove a half block away from the scene of the incident, and flipped her headlights off while she searched for a place to find friends for the night. There was an OA meeting at the community center, but she wasn’t an overeater. The only other option was an AA meeting near Big Bear, and it started in twenty minutes. No way her car was making it to the mountains, much less in twenty minutes. OA it was.
The community center vibe was so different from what she was used to. Kids’ art plastered the walls of a cream-colored hallway. Meeting rooms with slot windows on the doors held placards denoting what was happening behind them. “Mommy and me” was in room 6C. “Knitting for fun!” was in 6B. And there it was, “Overeaters Anonymous,” room 6A. There was a crayon drawing of a rainbow with a pot of gold at the end of it taped to room 6A’s door. A good sign.
“Welcome,” a pear-shaped middle-aged woman with a bun greeted as she entered. So far, no snark. No mention of the clotted blood hanging out on top of her foot. Just “welcome,” and a smile.
If the Church of Christ had St. Peter watching over her, the Community Center had the power of rainbows and being truly anonymous. No one knew her there, not even her first name. No one had expectations of what she’d talk about, or if she would. Gia grabbed a seat in the back of the room, a student’s desk with a laminate wood top, and watched. It creaked as she slid into it. Weirdly, the bleach smell she was so accustomed to in the Fellowship Hall lingered in the air. Fluorescent lights overhead gave everyone a tired look. Or they really were tired.
Much like at her meeting, people talked like old friends, hugging, tapping backs, shaking hands. No one knew each other and yet, theykneweach other.
“Welcome, everyone,” the bun woman said, eventually. And again, “Welcome. Let’s all take a seat, and we’ll begin. I see a few new faces tonight, and I thank you for joining us.”
As people shared, Gia was struck by just how similar this meeting was to her group. Sure, the topic was food instead of booze. But the concepts were the same. The people the same. Trauma and drama and uncertainty laced their stories. Temptation and relief. A want of a better life and a conviction to make it happen, even amongst missteps. A young woman talked about her Type-2 diabetes and worrying that she wouldn’t be there to see her children grow up. A man cried through his story of a mother who made him clear his plate, even if he wasn’t hungry. There were starving children in China, she’d said. He’d never stopped clearing his plate. Or worrying about the children in China.
People were people.
Savannah had lashed out at her, but she was a human being with feelings. Maybe she was threatened. Maybe the stroke had made her feel less-than in a world of overachievers. Maybe, she loved Roxi and wasn’t the one who wanted the agreement they had. Who knew?
Gia’s need to share what had happened to her that evening dissipated as she listened to others’ pain. Everyone had it. And everyone had to cope. She decided listening was the answer.
Hey,she texted from the lobby after the meeting. No snack table there.Just making sure you’re okay. Love you, Mom.
A big star
“Grab that last one—the pink one that’s just out of your reach—but I want you to swing for it, okay?” Courtney coached from below. “Get some good momentum going. Really swing, Gia! More! Yes! Now—GO!”
Gia had grown accustomed to Courtney’s pushing—reach for the holds that were difficult. Grab for what you want but can’t quite get without focus and effort. She gripped the pink plastic grip as instructed, and dangled, her entire body weight supported by four fingers on a tiny hold, swinging from the momentum she’d worked up for the shift. She was thirty feet in the air, and the 136 pounds that composed Gia Barone felt like 336.
“Hang on! Pull your left foot up. You can do this. Just put your left foot on the brown one. You’re safe, Gia. Put your left foot on the brown hold.”
There was no moving her left foot to the brown hold—which she couldn’t see, anyway. Fate intervened. Gia slipped, and Courtney pulled the slack out of the rope, leaving her dangling again, but this time physics supported her weight. Not a few fingers. Thank God for climbing ropes. As she swayed above the padded floor, she said the only thing that came to mind. “Sorry!”
“Don’t apologize. Fantastic work today. That was a hard one, and kind of a test. Let’s bring you down and we can talk about the competition next week.”
It was Gia’s weekly one-on-one training session with Courtney—but this one seemed more intense than ever. The team had a contest in Newport Beach in two weeks—just after Thanksgiving. If Gia were honest, she was excited. Not about competing. That was terrifying. But if she were lucky, she’d be able to sneak away and see the studio where Roxi’s reality show was set to film. Something about previewing the site of the competition was exciting. That it shared a location with The Price is Right didn’t hurt, either. She loved watching that show with her nonna as a kid.
“Okay!” Gia yelled, using an OK sign hand signal to show she was ready to come down.
“That last one was super hard—it was a stretch. I’m proud of you for trying,” Courtney started again—back to the elusive brown hold. “Next time, we’ll switch and I’ll climb it so you can watch the technique.”
The last part bugged. It was probably nothing—a coach wanting to do her job—but Gia heard, “You aren’t good enough and I’m going to show you how it’s done.” She’d never been fond of “you want me to do it?” from girlfriends. Those were fighting words.
But instead of starting a fight, she bit her tongue and agreed with a nod. Billy Joel was at it again over the sound system—he must’ve been Courtney’s favorite. Gia’d climbed to Billy more than any other artist in her training sessions with the gym owner.
