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Gia continued, telling of her desire to avoid becoming her mother at all costs. Whatever happened, whether she found a purpose and a partner or withered on the vine with no clear direction, she’d consider herself a success as long as she didn’t become Gianna.
“That’s a good realization, Gia,” Mikael coached. “In life, our most important relationship is the one with ourselves. It sounds like you’re learning what you expect from yourself.”
“I am,” Gia smiled. “I’m getting a promotion at work, and I joined a team at my climbing gym. I’m making a plan for how I can give back. Holding myself accountable. And there are days when I really want a drag of a cigarette or a shot of tequila, but I’m not willing to betray myself.”
She left out the part where she wanted to find out if she and Roxi had chemistry. If their common ground went beyond struggle and into something sustainable. Roxi’d moved in without fanfare, and they’d been living together for a month, sharing groceries and a toothbrush holder, meals when schedules aligned. They’d told secrets and dreams and laughed about the unbelievable nature of most lesbian movies. Gia’d smelled Roxi’s bodywash every night when she showered to go to work, and every morning when she rolled in just after Roxi had left. The seed was planted, and it wanted to grow. But she kept denying it a chance for sunlight.
“What a weird meeting.” Roxi buckled the seat belt in Gia’s hatchback, their new ritual established. Tuesday afternoons were for meetings, then they had dinner together before Gia went to work. “And I can’t get used to this seatbelt contraption.”
“I know. The ‘90s didn’t make sense.” Gia started the car, its engine coming to life with the twist of her wrist. “Hey Rox?”
“Yeah?”
“Wanna go to The Palmeranian? Drag king night?” Forget dinner at home.
“I thought you’d never ask.” Roxi reached for the radio dial and turned it until she found a station that came in. Pearl Jam was singing “Immortality” with a touch of static. “Not everything about the ‘90s was weird. I mean, that’s my growing up years, you know? I have a soft spot for younger me.”
“Fair enough.” Gia had a soft spot for present Roxi, with the crowded smile and willingness to push buttons—both real and proverbial. She stood up for who she was and what she wanted. The question was, did she still want Gia, knowing it was an on-hold proposition? Or had they seamlessly cohabitated their way into a lesbian bed death before anything even happened?
Road trip
“Soda and lime, please.” Gia leaned against the bar, unwilling to suffer through another cup of The Palmeranian’s weak, bitter coffee. She hadn’t found a cup in Palm Springs that came close to anything in Austin. Even the fancy barista bars fell short.
“Same.” Roxi scooted forward into Gia’s shoulder, a crowd building around them. “What?”
“Nothing. I’ve never seen you order anything but café con leche.”
“People can change.” The light was back in Roxi’s eyes, its temporary dullness erased by time away from her ex. “People change every day, in fact.”
“Is that right?”
“Sí. You’ve changed.”
“Maybe. Thanks,” Gia nodded to the bartender, dropped a five on the counter, and grabbed both drinks. “Same table?”
“Yeah. And don’t deflect.” Roxi placed her hand on Gia’s back as they maneuvered through the crowd to “their” table. A friendly way to not get separated? Or an excuse to touch? Hard to say.
“I’m not deflecting. Isn’t change the point? I sure as hell don’t want to stay how I was.”
“Verdad.So, you’ve changed. I noticed. You’re all serious and shit. Getting promoted. Joining teams. It looks good on you.” Roxi smiled her best smile as they arrived at their table, which was taken. “Dammit. Let’s just stand in the back.”
A few more “excuse mes,” a few drops of soda water sloshed, and they were leaning against a painted cinderblock wall of the bar-turned-cabaret for the evening. “Why’s it so packed?” Gia wondered aloud.
“Didn’t you hear?” A woman with a buzz cut wearing a blue blazer interjected. “Chip Block is performing tonight.”
“Ah,” Gia said, like she knew who Chip Block was. “Should that mean something to me?” she whispered in Roxi’s ear, the scent of raspberry consuming her. That damn bodywash haunted her dreams. She woke up swearing she’d just eaten a criminal amount of raspberries at least twice a week.
“He’s big in L.A. Has a residency at The Abbey,” Roxi whispered back.
“Ah,” Gia said again, like she knew what The Abbey was. For all she knew it was an actual Abbey, a place where monks tried to pray away the gay.
“It’s a club in West Hollywood,” Roxi said. “We should go sometime.”
“To L.A.? Nah, I’m good.”
“Why not? We can go to the beach. Go celebrity spotting. I have cousins in Long Beach. I’m sure they’d let us stay. You could use a road trip.”
“I don’t know.”
