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Angels vs. devils
Gia woke up wearing a smile she couldn’t turn off and feeling a sense of optimism she couldn’t place. The clock on the floor read 5:15 p.m.—her regular wake up time. She’d promised her mom one last dinner together before work, and then—blessedly—Gianna was due to leave Palm Springs. They’d spent a week getting reacquainted in the evenings, and Gianna had delivered on her promise to buy her daughter some furniture. Gia was the proud owner of a brand-new mattress and second-hand living room set that included a pleather sofa with a hide-a-bed, an oak coffee table, and matching end tables. Her living situation and comfort were upgraded in a big way. Never mind that the upgrade required graciously accepting gifts from the woman who’d belittled and berated her so many times in the past. She considered it reparation and took the furniture guilt-free.
As Gia pondered where to have her mom buy dinner that evening, she clicked the power button on her phone to see she’d missed two texts. One from the owner of the climbing gym, asking if she wanted to come climb with the team. No tryout required based on her son’s recommendation and no mention of job possibilities. The other was Roxi with a direct question—“can I come over?”
Forget the climbing team, that would be there the next day. She and Roxi hadn’t been to each other’s homes; hadn’t even talked about it. And out of the blue, Roxi asks to come over? When she knows Gianna is in town? It was too early for a booty call, and Gia had made it clear sex was off the table anyway. Roxi hadn’t pushed it since their talk.
Hey, what’s up?Gia texted.
Without delay, she saw little moving dots on the screen indicating Roxi was writing back.Fight with Savannah. Muy mal. Can I crash with you tonight?
“Shit,” Gia dragged her hands through her sleep-styled hair. The angel on her shoulder said, “not a good idea. For so many reasons.” The devil on the other shoulder said, “what’s the harm?” Her mother was headed to Los Angeles to stay with a friend after dinner—the new pull-out couch was technically available. After rubbing crusty sleep out of the edges of her eyes, Gia clicked the tiny keyboard.
I don’t know.
I’m sorry—sure.
No, my mom’s still here.
Three tries resulted in three mind changes. She could use one of the cigarettes Gianna had snuck into the apartment and didn’t think she knew about. A smokeralwaysknew, and a smooth hit of nicotine would do the trick right about then. Or a swig of Jim Beam. Or both. Instead, she repeated her mantra, “I am more powerful than my cravings,” and searched for words.
You can stay on the couch. r u OK?
Boundary set, jaw set, and mind set, Gia told herself it was just a favor. Nothing more. She could offer the comfort of a friend without the benefits. She thought.
Thanks, chica. Addy?
How funny, Gia thought. They’d known each other for nearly three months, hung out after a half dozen meetings, and had kissed—and neither knew where the other lived. If that wasn’t progress, she didn’t know what was. OG would’ve been in Roxi’s bed the night they met. And already on to the next person in a month. And yet, there she was, still friends with Roxi, who still didn’t know where she lived.
What time?Gia wrote, imagination on turbo. How would she keep them apart?She could handle Gianna. And Roxi. But the thought of them in the same room at the same time wasn’t exciting. Gianna would grill Roxi about her family and past, piling the accent on thick as fake maple syrup to compete with Roxi’s. Roxi would bite back, asking questions about Gianna’s parenting fails that she’d learned from Gia’s confessionals in meetings.
Half an hour. Roxi replied in an instant.I need to get out of here.
Too soon.
Gia would have to coax her mom out of the house and wait until after work to find out what was up with Roxi.OK. We’re heading out. I’ll put a key under Mrs. Edelman’s mat—unit 315. See you in the morning.
Gia hopped out of bed and padded to the kitchen in search of coffee, her worn plaid pajama shorts hanging loosely around her hips. She straightened a black tank top, expecting Gianna to be waiting on the couch watching the 6 o’clock news, as she had been for days. Silence. No anchors bantering on about the heat, no mother chewing Nicorette gum and scrolling her phone. After a week of having a constant presence, something was off.
“Mom?”
Nothing.
A check of the bathroom came up empty. There wasn’t anywhere else for Gianna to hide in Gia’s shoebox-sized home. There were no notes, no texts. No indication that she’d even been there, save for the lingering smell of honeysuckle from perfume intended to mask pungent halo of tobacco that followed Gianna everywhere.
“Dammit! Pick up,” she demanded, pacing the kitchen. It took three steps to cover the entire room—its worn pale-yellow vinyl a throwback to days gone by and proof someone else had paced the floor before her. “Pick up, dammit!”
The inevitable voicemail reminded her what to do. “Hi, you’ve reached Gianna. If we know each other, you know I don’t listen to voicemails. If we don’t, you can leave a message, but don’t expect a call back.”
Gia wanted to believe her mother had run to the store to stock her kitchen with groceries for a week. Or taken her car and filled it with gas. Or even, gone out for a walk. But she didn’t believe any of those things.
Leaving a message was pointless—the voicemail said as much—but she did it anyway. “Mom, where’d you go? Call me back.” Gia hung up and noticed the coffee pot was full. “At least you made coffee.”
Hey, change of plans. I’ll see you when you get here.
???
“¿Dónde está tu mamá?”Roxi asked when Gia opened the door after a single doorbell ring. “I can’t wait to meet the woman who created you.”
