Falling Fast

“Gia,” Nina greets as soon as she answers.

“I just exited the highway. I shouldn’t be much longer.”

“Ned, she’s almost here,” she shouts, and the sound bounces through my car.

“Well tell her to get off her phone. Don’t she know it’s illegal to drive while on your cell phone?” he gripes, and I smile.

“I’m on my car’s Bluetooth,” I tell Nina, and then listen to her relay that message to her husband, who grumbles something about technology. Laughing, I stop at the red light and turn on my blinker. “My GPS says I’ll be there in less than ten minutes.”

“We’ll see you when you get here, darlin’. Just drive safe.”

“See you soon.” I hang up then turn left and drive through a tiny town with just a few small stores, a bank, and a bar. As soon as I make it to the street my grandmother’s house is on, my heart starts to beat hard. Even though I have never been here before, I’ve seen enough pictures of my mother’s childhood home to know exactly which one it is. Parking in the driveway, I shut down my car. The house is small, smaller than it seemed in pictures I saw when I was a little girl, and time has taken its toll on it. The yellow paint on the siding is peeling away, along with the white borders around each of the windows. The grass isn’t overgrown, but the flowerbeds are in need of weeding, and the trees surrounding the house need to be cut back, since they look like they are about to go through the roof.

Looking in the rearview mirror at my refection, I sigh. I’m a mess, but after driving all day, it’s not surprising. With nothing at hand to do anything about my appearance right now, I open the door and jump down, hearing what sounds like a screen door squeak. Slamming the door to my Jeep closed, my breath catches the second I see the woman standing on the front porch wearing a baggy, colorful knitted sweater and jeans. Her long salt-and-pepper hair is still thick and shiny, hanging down around her shoulders, and I instantly recognize the high cheekbones and beautiful copper-toned skin. She’s beautiful, and I have no doubt that if my mom were still alive, she would look just like her in a few years.

“Gabriella,” she whispers, studying me, and pain slices through me. Gabriella was my mom. I don’t think I look anything like the beauty who was my mother, but my dad used to tell me all the time that I did.

“Genevria, honey, that’s Gia,” an older woman, who I’m guessing is Nina, says, helping my grandmother down the steps with her hand wrapped around her sweater-covered elbow. “You remember her, don’t you?” she asks, and I can see it in my grandmother’s eyes that she is trying to remember but it’s not clicking. “Gia is Gabriella’s daughter—your granddaughter.”

“Gia,” Grandma says getting closer, and then a smile lights up her face. “Gia, you grew up.” She holds out her open arms toward me, and my heart clenches in my chest. Closing the distance between us, I wrap my arms around her frail body and bury my face in the crook of her neck.

“I missed you, Grandma,” I choke out as she rubs my back. Leaning back to look at her, I smile, tucking a piece of her long hair behind her ear. “You’re still beautiful,” I whisper, and her eyes fill with warmth.

“So are you. You look just like your mom,” she says thoughtfully before letting me go.

Turning to face the couple standing next to us, I stick out my hand. “Nina?” I prompt, and she laughs, pulling me in for a warm, welcoming hug.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she says before releasing me and jerking her thumb over her shoulder. “This is Ned.”

“Hi, Ned.” I smile, and he smiles back.

“Can you stay for lunch, or will your dad be expecting you home soon?” Grandma asks, and I frown then look at Nina, but she speaks before I can.

“Gia is going to be staying with you for a while, Genevria. Isn’t that nice?”

“Really?” Grandma asks, looking at me.

“Really.” I take her hand in mine. “I hope that’s okay.”

“Of course it is.” She grins. “Come on inside.” She takes my hand and turns me back toward the house.

With her hand in mine, I help her up two steps then walk into the house behind her. The inside is in need of just as much repair as it is out. Even though it’s clean the walls need to be painted and the floors need to be replaced, and when we walk into the kitchen, my gut twists. There is food, pots, pans, and bowls all over the place. It looks like a child was left alone in the kitchen and they tried to cook.