that. Were they estranged? Why hadn’t her parents called her
yet? Did they not have that kind of relationship where they
spoke every day even though they lived in the same city?
Maybe that was why they didn’t talk often. They were close in
location, so they didn’t have to be in any other way? Giana
didn’t know. It was so frustrating that she didn’t know.
Just like she didn’t know if she could ever expect her wife
to come back.
She was in the kitchen, making omelettes, which she’d put
in the fridge later, and it was a surprise that she could cook and
actually enjoyed it, when she heard the door to the garage
open. It was silent, but the inside house door opening and
clicking shut near the kitchen wasn’t so quiet. She slid the
frying pan off the burner and shut the gas off.
Like when she’d showed up for their wedding, the relief that
Giana felt was so great at seeing Coralyn there that she had to
blink back tears and wok harder for her next breath.
Coralyn looked…destroyed. She didn’t look good. Tired
wasn’t the right word. Neither was haggard. Her eyes were
even redder than before, slightly swollen. The silvery tear
tracks had embedded themselves on her pale cheeks, almost as
if they couldn’t merely be washed away. She looked exhausted
and defeated, like someone had ripped her spirit out and
trampled all over it before slamming it back into the cage of
her body.
Giana closed the distance in a rush, not knowing what she
could do, but she was tired of feeling useless and helpless. She
was strong. She knew that somehow. Sitting back wasn’t
something she did. Taking charge of this wasn’t exactly an
option but being there was.