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Gia couldn’t top feline affection, so she gave them both a seated hug and let herself out.
???
Since she’d started her journey in sobriety—Palm Springs edition—Gia had been carefully honest. With herself and others, except for keeping a huge secret longer than probably necessary. She didn’t realize how much carrying the Emily news had been weighing her down until she sunk into a tub full of hot water and bubbles. Her shoulders relaxed. Her mind calmed. She closed her eyes and willed herself to think about—nothing. To let go of finding Emily, her mother’s new behavior, Roxi’s show. It was New Year’s Eve, and instead of vowing to stop drinking thenextday, Gia congratulated herself on thus far keeping her Palm Springs promise: No booze, no cigarettes, no casual sex.
If she were a betting woman—thankfully, not one of her vices—she’d have bet on the temptations. They’d taken her down before, most recently, after seven months. There she was—facing her eighth month and going strong. Something had changed. Or maybe someonehad changed: her.
Gia still thought of the heady buzz of a good cigarette. The calmness she felt a few drags in. She remembered the delight of saddling up to a bar and the first sip of a cocktail, the gentle burn of a vodka martini as it warmed her from the inside out. The thrill of scoring the girl everyone else was after—time and again—only to lose her the next day.
When those memories surfaced—when her past caught up to her—Gia remembered how much better she felt. How much more in touch with her emotions she was. And how she’d developed and maintained several friendships, without the unpredictable nature of her inebriated alter ego. Perhaps people were more important than poisons.
An aggressive rap at her front door jarred her out of the Zen of reflection. The urge to ignore it evaporated as the knocking got louder. Someone wanted to see her, fast. She wondered who she owed money—no one. Unpaid tabs and IOUs were a thing of the past. She didn’t even have an outstanding parking ticket. She’d slept with no one’s wife, girlfriend, or daughter. So, what gave?
With a towel wrapped around her mid-section, hair wet and skin damp, Gia peeped through the hole in her door. Mrs. Edelman. Maybe Galileo was in the tree.
“Oh, hi!” Gia said through the cracked door. “Come on in.”
“Did I get you out of the bath?” Jennifer asked. “I don’t want to intrude!”
“I was done anyway. Give me one second to put on some clothes. Be right back! Make yourself at home.”
Gia pulled on a pair of cutoffs and a T-shirt and rushed back to find Jennifer standing where she’d left her, colorful caftan draped over her petite frame. Her outfit screamed “cheer,” while her face was somber.
“Please, come on in. Here, why don’t we sit?” Gia motioned to her modest living room.
“Thank you, dear.” Jennifer slumped into the pleather couch, and Gia noticed the red hue of her cheeks—it wasn’t makeup.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yes. I’ve reconsidered.”
“Reconsidered?”
“Your question. If I’d like to see Emily. I’ve reconsidered.” Jennifer clasped her hands over her lap, just as she had in her own home.
“Oh! Are you sure? I don’t want to push you to do something you don’t want to. My curiosity got the best of me—”
“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t sure. I’d like to see her. While I still can.” Jennifer’s eyes danced with the passion of high tide—playful and powerful at the same time. Those eyes had seen a lifetime of firsts, lasts, and everything in between. They told of a person who could handle the truth—who wanted to make the trip.
“Alright then. When do you want to go?”
“When can we?”
“I’ll call the home tomorrow and find out,” Gia said. “Do you mind if Derrick goes, too? His car is more comfortable than mine. And I’d love you two to meet.”
With an agreeable shake of her head, it was settled. The three of them would go see Emily. As soon as possible.
Texas Hold ‘Em
“Do you need more air?”Derrick asked as he piloted the black sedan towards Riverside and the memory care facility. “The seats have coolers if you want? Or heat?”
Jennifer tugged on the seatbelt across her shoulders and turned to address the backseat. “Is he always this thoughtful?”
“He is,” Gia said as the khaki of Palm Springs turned into strip malls and neon signs. Each time she was drawn out of the desert, with its modest, squat buildings and beige sameness, its slower pace, and fewer places to be, she was jarred into remembering: the world was painfully busy.
And yet, three people with vastly different lives had found time to come together and take a journey into the past. In a moment of déjà vu, Gia found herself at the same glass doors with the same worn metal handles that she’d been at weeks before—the first time they’d visited Emily.
“Let me,” Derrick opened the door and smiled.
