Falling Fast

When she married my father, she had nothing. She may have dressed in fancy clothes, talked like she had traveled the world, and had expensive taste, but she didn’t come from money or have any when she married my father. She was his secretary, that’s how they met, and I don’t even really know if my dad was having an affair with her when my mother was still alive.

“Your father and I were married. What was his became mine.”

“That still doesn’t explain to me why you kept me from my grandmother, why you told me she was dead when she was very much alive.”

“Your father wouldn’t have wanted you living with that woman or in that town.”

“You don’t know that,” I respond quietly.

She sits up a little taller. “I do, and I did what I had to do in order to honor his wishes. I knew if she told you she wanted you to move to Tennessee after your dad died that you would have gone. You would have gone there, dropped out of school, and ended up pregnant, living in a trailer with five kids and a husband who stepped out on you every chance he got. I saved you from that life.”

“Are you insane?” I ask, wanting to reach across the table and wrap my hands around her slim throat.

“Your father told me all about that place. He told me how much he hated it.”

“He never hated it. He fell in love with my mom in that town.”

“And he wished he wouldn’t have,” she says like she’s telling me what color the sky is or where she bought her shoes.

The statement is casual, but the pain it leaves behind is devastating, because I know she’s telling the truth. I overheard my father say more than once after my mother’s death that he wished he hadn’t fallen in love with my mom. I thought it was because he didn’t think he could push past the pain of losing her after she was gone, but maybe it was something else. Maybe he never really loved her at all.

“I don’t want to fight with you, Gia,” she sighs, rubbing her forehead like talking to me is too much for her to handle.

“I’m leaving town in a couple days. My grandma needs me. I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

“You’re an adult now. You can do what you like. I can’t stop you.” She waves my statement away like it means nothing to her. Like I mean nothing to her.

It shouldn’t hurt but it still does.

“Right.” I push back from the table and stand. I don’t look at her as I walk away; I’m too focused on staying upright. My legs shake as I head through the crowded restaurant toward the door, but surprisingly I make it out to my car without falling to my knees in the parking lot. Once I’m in my Jeep and behind the wheel, I close my eyes and drop my head back to the headrest behind me. I wish my mom were here to give me advice and tell me everything is going to be okay, and I wish my dad were here so I could yell at him and tell him what an asshole he is for leaving me with that bitch.

“Pull it together, Gia. You’ve got shit to do,” I whisper to myself.

Opening my eyes I start up my car and head home. As I pull into the driveway at my house thirty minutes later, I smile when I see my best friend has already made it home. Shutting down the engine, I grab my bag then get out and slam the door, making sure to set the alarm so my Jeep doesn’t get jacked, which has happened in the past. I live in an okay neighborhood, but crime happens all the time around here, especially car thefts.

“Took you long enough to get here,” my best friend since childhood, Natasha, greets me, holding open the screen door to our place with one hand, while holding a glass of wine in the other. Looking at her, I know she’s been home for a while, since she’s already taken off her makeup, put her ash-blonde hair up in a bun, and switched out her work clothes for sweats and a baggy hoodie.

“I went and met up with Colleen,” I say, walking past her and taking the glass of wine from her hand as I go.

“Yeah, what did the fish have to say about all of this?” she asks, using the nickname she gave Colleen after she got her lips done when we were twelve.

“She said she saved me from having five kids and a husband that cheats on me.”

“Shut the fuck up. She did not,” she growls, going to the fridge and grabbing the bottle of wine.