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“I’ve sung for you! We sang in the car on the way to L.A.”
“Yeah, but that wasussinging. You’ve never soloed for me.”
“You’ve never asked.”
“I just did.” Gia motioned to the karaoke machine.
“Okay, but just one. Dinner’s ready and I can’t wait to see if you like my mama’smenudo. I even found pigs’ feet!”
“You said—”
“I’m kidding. It’s frogs’ legs.”
“Rox.” Gia put on her best, “be serious” face. Furrowed brow, focused eyes.
“Alright. It’s chicken breast. I know you’re counting protein. Geez. Okay, so what do you wanna hear?”
“I don’t know. How about your favorite song?” If there was one thing Gia wished she was—besides all the things she wished she wasn’t—was a singer. She’d sang with Roxi in the car, sure. But she’d done it at a volume so low that Roxi didn’t realize she couldn’t carry a tune. And if Roxi had realized it, she hadn’t said anything.
“Alright. Wait right here. I’ll be back in a sec.” Roxi whooshed out of the room, leaving Gia a moment to glance at her texts. Courtney’d sent her a link to a new weightlifting routine, her new friend Derrick asked if she wanted to grab dinner sometime that week, and her mom sent a cryptic message, “Hi doll. I’m okay.” What the hell did that mean?
When she returned, Roxi had traded the cotton sundress she’d been wearing for her signature tights, knotted T-shirt, and headband to hold back her hair. White high-top sneakers were laced with purple laces. Gia was in her room, so where did she keep the outfit? Wherever she’d found it, she looked like she’d just walked out of an old exercise video and entered with authority, one purposeful step after the next. She was commanding the stage, which in this case, was the corner of her bedroom for an audience of one.
“Wow. Full costume and everything?! I’m honored.” Gia leaned back into the pile of pillows and snuggled in. She was dying to know—what song was coming? And she was hyper aware she was sitting on Roxi’s bed. The place she slept. And presumably, where she slept with others. But not Gia. Not that night. No matter what, not that night.
“Only the full experience for you,chica.”
Roxi grabbed the mic, pressed a few buttons on the machine, and when the music began, closed her eyes. She swayed with the song’s intro, forehead relaxed, lips soft, and head tilted to one side. “This one goes out to my good friend, G,” Roxi said, and added, just before the first lyric, “I hope you never miss anything again.”
For the next four minutes, Roxi told of a love so sweet and so pure that the singer didn’t want to miss a moment of it. Of course, her favorite song was by Aerosmith. Of course, she knocked it out of the park, finding long notes and high notes and a surprising amount of gravel when it counted. And of course, Gia was increasingly uncomfortable. She’d thought Roxi would pick something light and fun, not serious and romantic. She thought she wouldn’t be impacted by a song, but it turns out being serenaded a love song by someone who makes your heart beat faster is more intense than expected.
“Wow, Rox. That was incredible.” Gia stood and clapped as Roxi took a bow, willing her body to present itself as relaxed. Willing her pulse to slow, even a little. “You’re so fuckin’ talented. I wish everyone else could hear what I just heard.”
“Well—they might be able to.” Roxi dropped the mic onto the machine. “C’mon, let’s have dinner and I’ll tell you a secret.”
The walk to the kitchen seemed to happen slower on the return; the want of something that didn’t happen still pulsing through her veins, even if it wasn’t possible to have that something happen—she’d made the rule herself. Roxi had just abided by it—she’d stuck to her promise that they were just friends. But if Gia were honest, the moment was there, and she’d missed it. She was in Roxi’s bed, being sung a love song. They were alone in the house—no shared walls, no roommates present. It was a slam dunk opportunity where the hoop was half the height of normal. A home run hit off a child’s tee. A touchdown when the defense missed every tackle. And every other sports metaphor she could think of. Fact was, she could’ve made something happen easily, and changed the course of the evening, perhaps even her life. It was twenty steps to the kitchen from Roxi’s bedroom. Plenty of time to both kick herself for missing the moment and congratulate herself for passing the test. The angel and devil had a field day in those twenty steps.
All that, before she’d processed there was an impending secret. What other secrets could Roxi possibly have? She knew about the DUIs, the fake girlfriend situation, the lover who left her for a man, and her regrets about not chasing a music career. What else burdened her? On the surface, people saw woman with a penchant for drawing attention to herself and a devil-may-care attitude. But Roxi was more than her image, and each new secret exposed a layer few others saw.
“I hope you like it.” Roxi ladled a generous spoonful of soup into a bright orange bowl and placed it in front of Gia on the eat-in bar. “Thanks for bringing the water.”
“That sounds so lame, doesn’t it?” Gia laughed and poured two glasses of sparkling water. “I’ll bring the water. This year was an excellent vintage for clear liquid. It’s ready to drink now, or you could store it a few years to open it up.” Recovery jokes never got old between them—it had become a thing. “I’m dying to know. What’s the secret?”
“Ay, wait one more minute! Let me get settled.” Roxi took her place beside Gia on a tall stool, grabbed the glass of water, and raised it. “One day at a time. Salud.”
“Salud. One day at a time.”
???
It was pitch black when Gia climbed the stairs to her apartment, the kind of dark that changes depth perception and an understanding of where one’s body is in space. The soft yellow glow of her neighbors’ porchlights did little to the light the path, though they were usually sufficient. Except for that fact that she hadn’t had a drop to drink, Gia could’ve sworn she felt a little tipsy. Right on the edge of sober and not, the dark of night hugging her tight and not letting go. Each step took her closer to her dreams. And in her dreams, life was easier. Work was fulfilling, climbing was a joy, and Roxi was her person. In her dreams, she was reliably sober and not tempted by the things that tempted her daily.
“Hi dear! What are you doing out at this hour? I thought you worked nights?” Mrs. Edelman greeted from a plastic chair outside her front door, cigarette dangling from her right hand, porchlight glow casting an ethereal halo around her figure.
“Hi, Mrs. Edelman.” Gia waved and crested the final stair. “I switched to days. Got a promotion. I’ve just been at dinner with a friend.”
“Oh, that’s lovely. Call me Jennifer. No need to be so formal, you know.” Jennifer took a healthy drag of her cigarette and flicked the ashes into a mug, bits of orange and red burning out as they reached the receptacle. She was still dressed from the day—colorful caftan, full makeup, cherry red fingernails. “Why don’t you pull up a chair and have a smoke with me?”
“Oh, I’d love to, but—” Gia paused. But,why? There was the temptation she was dead set on avoiding. “I quit. I quit the whole thing. Smoking, drinking, other stuff—you know. All the things that get me in trouble.”
