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“I’m sorry. I won’t do that again. I didn’t mean it to happen that way. Where’s Marlena now?”
“She’s with the girls at the compound. We’re moved into the new clubhouse. It isn’t done but we’re making do. Safer. Bigger.”
She nodded.
I breathed out the rest of my anger and kissed her again. Then I gave her ass a little slap. “Go on in. I’ll wait out here. But don’t let her feed you shit. You did nothing wrong speaking your mind to her.”
She blew out a long breath.
I kept talking. “Just like you were in the right speaking your mind to me and standing up for yourself despite that I was bein’ stubborn. I might not like how your relatives treat you, but I have no right to stop you from bein’ better than they are. Good job, baby. I fuckin’ love that you’re better than they are.” I kissed her again.
Her eyes crinkled as she gave me a half a smile. She exhaled slowly. And then my girl squared her shoulders and walked into her aunt’s place.
Two minutes later, her father joined me on the deck, handing me a beer.
“Thanks,” I said.
“Fucked up when she was a kid. Fucked up a lot.”
I cracked the tab and took a swig.
“When she was small and we figured out she had that voice on her, we tried to help her make somethin’ of it. Felt like it did more harm than good. She was so fuckin’ shy.” He took a sip of his beer. “She’s put up with a lot of shit from me and her mother over the years. I got a lot of regrets. Young. Stupid. Priorities mixed up. When me and her mom split, that bitch made my life real difficult.”
I took another swig.
He kept talking. “Then she had to come live with me, and it was the worst fuckin’ timing. I was a hell-raiser, a womanizer. Drank too much. Did too many drugs. I didn’t know what to do with a little kid. You know?” He shook his head. “Made a lotta mistakes. I like you for her. She’s growin’ into herself with you. Growin’ a backbone. You’re good for her.”
He held out his hand.
I took it and shook it. “Don’t have respect for you, Grant, after the shit she’s told me. But there might be hope for you yet.” I leaned against the deck railing.
“Don’t count on it,” he said with a laugh. “This shit sucks. Facing mortality. Messy shit.” He shook his head hard and raked a hand through his hair. “Usually I run a mile. But my sister stepped up for my girl when I didn’t have my act together. Least I can do bein’ here for her.”
I drank another mouthful of beer.
“Even if she’s too stubborn to admit she needs the help,” he added. He sat down and lit a cigarette.
I sat too.
He offered me one.
“I quit around the time we stayed here and I listened to the way your sister hacks her brains out between pukin’ from Chemo.”
“Yeah,” he said, taking a drag and examining the cigarette. “Harder to kick nicotine than heroin. I should know. Kicked the black snow years ago. Can’t seem to quit these though.”
He took another puff, then put it out and took another gulp of his beer.
Ten minutes later, she still wasn’t out of there and there wasn’t any shouting, so I wasn’t sure what I’d be walking into when I poked my head in. It was quiet. No Gigi in the kitchen or living room so figuring she must be in Francie’s room, I used the bathroom. I heard her voice. It was soft, coaxing. I gave them privacy, and went back outside.
A neighbor was now up on the deck chatting with Grant. Another one came by a minute later, chatting us up from the driveway. I sat and listened to them shoot the shit for the next twenty minutes before Gigi finally stepped out.
“Hi Johnny. Hey Steve.”
“Hiya Gianna!” One greeted.
“How are you, Gia?” asked the other.
“Hanging in there, thanks.” She looked at me.
“Ready to go?” I asked.
“Can we take a little walk for a minute?” she asked.
I followed her as she headed past my bike, down the road.
“Um, so…” she started.
And I thought, here we fucking go.
“Her best friend moved to Canada about fifteen years ago. She got married to a man up there. Aunt Tammy. She was always super sweet to me and Kailey.”
She stopped at the gate to the trailer park and leaned against the post. “Asked Aunt Francie and she wants to go there. The prognosis isn’t good. It’s really bad, actually, and she doesn’t want more treatment. Doesn’t want more poking and prodding. She’s pretty adamant about that. It’s not just how sick it’d make her, it’s because there’s such a low chance it’ll do much for her that she doesn’t want to spend the rest of her time left feeling like garbage. We talked and she wants to go stay with Aunt Tammy and finish out her time there.”
