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They got into an argument in the bathroom the day before when Gigi encouraged her to shave it and wear a scarf. The woman shrieked for her to get out. And she didn’t just mean out of the bathroom, she meant out of the trailer.
Later on, she bitched that Gigi did a load of our clothes in her machines, complaining about her electric bill going up because we were there. I’d had about enough of that woman three hours after we got here, never mind how I was feeling three days later.
Gigi sat on the couch and put her head in her hands while her aunt hoarsely shouted from the bedroom while my mother and Arch stood in the doorway. This was the first sign her patience was slipping. She was trembling with pent-up frustration. I put my arm around her and kissed the side of her head. She melted into me.
To say it’d been a rough few days was an understatement. Not only was the woman not getting any relief from the extra meds sent over, each time she spoke to her niece, she was ugly to her. Like Gigi was the one that injected the cancer into her.
My girl pleaded with her eyes every time something ugly was said, not wanting me to fan the flames. And it was a test of will to keep my mouth shut. I didn’t always win out and I’d bit back more than a couple times.
But when Ma and Arch pulled up and Francie had another hissy fit about company being here, I was past my limit.
“Gianna Jones, you get in here right now and answer me. Who’s here and why?” she demanded from the other room. Gigi shot Ma and Arch apologetic looks and then rushed to her.
We heard them through the useless walls.
“Jesse’s parents brought more groceries and did us a favor, bringing something I wanted to surprise you with.”
“I don’t need this shit. Cancer was a surprise enough. More people in my house when I’m feelin’ like this? What is wrong in your head, girl?”
“They’re just lending a hand.”
“I don’t want nobody in, I said. Don’t know how much plainer I can make it. Where are my cigarettes? Did that fuckin’ biker take ‘em?”
Fuck sakes. Another thing. When she wasn’t puking, she was puffing on a cigarette. She called me ‘that fuckin’ biker’ every time she mentioned me to Gigi. As for the smokes, she’d seen me outside smoking and wrongly assumed I was smoking her cigarettes.
I already decided I was giving them up after this. Soon after this. No way did I need to fight nicotine withdrawal while dealing with this woman, but as soon as we were home I’d be weaning myself off. They were already tasting like shit what with watching her smoke, listening to her hack her brains out in between puking her guts up.
I put the box of groceries on the island and stormed that way.
“JJ,” Ma warned.
I did my best to blow the rage out of my nose so I wouldn’t spew it out of my mouth.
I got to the doorway and opened it two inches.
“Francie, nobody’s here for a social call. You need help, so you’re getting it. Stop worrying about shit that doesn’t matter.”
She was in the bed, hair looking limper and much thinner and her face looking just as grey as it did when we got here. She probably lost weight the last three days too, unable to hold anything down. I wasn’t a heartless prick about her illness, but was sick and tired of the way she was treating my girl, who was running herself ragged to do everything she could to help.
Gigi wasn’t up in her aunt’s grill, hovering like an annoying mosquito. She was taking care of her and giving her space to rest. But this bitch didn’t appreciate any of it. She hadn’t said thank you once in three days. She’d done nothing but bitch about stupid shit like leaving the light on when nobody was in the bathroom at night. Gigi calmly defended everything, showing the patience of a saint. She explained it was left on not to run the electric bill up but to make sure she could find her way to the bathroom in the dark since she was up and down all night puking, refusing to just use the bucket Gigi left in the bedroom for her.
My woman had infinite patience outwardly, but I could see the tiredness and the pain in her eyes and would stand up and fuckin’ slow clap if Gigi finally lost it and gave Francie a deserved piece of her mind.
“I’ll put a pot of coffee on since they drove down here from Bismarck, let ‘em use your can before they leave, and other than that, we’ll be sittin’ outside on your deck. Acceptable?”
