Chapter 27

 

 

 

“I’ll be back in a lil’ bit, Gianna. I’m going to go get some air.”

“Okay, sis.”

Gemma had already seen Geraldine waiting in the parking lot like an antsy five-year-old and since she didn’t want Gianna to know she was going to meet her, she used a quick excuse to leave the bakery for a while. She walked over to Geraldine, feeling a weird sensation of being biologically connected to a stranger. The woman who carried her for nine months and birthed her into the world was the same woman who didn’t know her. It shouldn’t have been that way, but that’s what it was.

“Hey,” Gemma said.

“Hey,” Geraldine replied and gave a flirty wave displaying her gold rings and long chalk-white fingernails.

“Where would you like to eat?”

“I’m thinking Me-hi-ca-no,” she sung, then did a shimmy. “How does Za-pa-ta’s sound?”

Gemma shrugged. “Zapata’s okay.”

They began walking in that direction, neither saying a word. All you could hear was Geraldine’s heels pattering on the wooden boards of the boardwalk along with the laughter of children across the way at the small playground near the Hilton Hotel. The awkwardness of the situation threatened Gemma’s sanity. She was beginning to wonder if she should have initiated a meeting with her at all. Probably not.

When they were situated in the restaurant, Geraldine asked, “What happened to your hair, child? It used to be so long and pretty.”

Gemma’s brows furrowed. Why was she asking such a dumb question when she knew about the cancer? “After chemo, I lost my hair. It’s growing back, though.”

“Hmph…I see why you kept it wrapped up. Why don’t you see if you can find a wig or something? All these beauty supply stores around here gotta have something for you.”

“Geraldine, I don’t need a wig. My hair is fine like—”

“Ooh, we have to get matching margaritas,” Geraldine said, cutting Gemma off.

Matching margaritas? What kind of…

Gemma frowned looking up at her. “Do you know how old I am?”

Geraldine looked puzzled for a moment then said, “Old enough for a lil’ dranky drank, I’m sure.” She cackled, trying to downplay the fact that she didn’t know how old her own daughter was.

Gemma internalized her anger. What a pitiful excuse for a mother. “I’m twenty.”

“Oh. Don’t worry about it,” she said, waving off the fact that Gemma was underage. “They probably won’t card you here.”

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t drink alcohol.”

“Oh.” She snapped her head back. “Well, whoop-de-doo. Look at you.” Her eyebrows rose up in an oh well gesture right before the waiter showed up. “Hola, mi amigo,” Geraldine said, giving the waiter that same fingery wave. “Give me a mucho, giganto strawberry margarito—the biggest you got.”

The waiter chuckled a bit and said, “Sure, Señora, and what about you?” he asked, looking at Gemma.

“Just water for me. Thanks.”

“Okay. I’ll be right back with that.”

Gemma checked her phone. Royal had tried calling again, followed by another text message:

 

Royal: where are you?

 

“So, what is this meeting about?” Geraldine asked.

Gemma tore her attention away from Royal’s text message and looked up at Geraldine. Going into this meeting with her mother, she wanted to be un-Gianna-like and not get in her feelings about being abandoned. But Geraldine was making it difficult for her to keep her sanity.

“What is this meeting about?” Gemma repeated.

“Yeah. What’s the dealio? Are you trying to get answers about your father, too, just like Gianna? That’s why you wanted to have lunch with me, ain’t it? Had nothing to do with getting to know your mama. You just want to know who your sperm donor was. Ain’t that right, lil’ girl?”

“Um…are you mental?” Gemma blurted out before she realized it.

“Excuse me?” Geraldine asked, offended.

“I said, are you mental?”

Geraldine shook her head. “You’re just like your smart-mouthed sister...she’s turned you against me.”

“Leave Gianna out of this, okay. You’ve blamed enough of your problems on her. I wanted to talk to you because I had my own unanswered questions, and yes, I would like to know who my father is, but first—”

The waiter lowered a glass of water in front of Gemma and a giganto margarito on the table in front of Geraldine, along with a basket of chips and a small bowl of salsa. “Are you ready to order?” he asked.

“Give us a minute, amigo man,” Geraldine said.

Gemma frowned. She watched Geraldine pick up her glass and drink half of a frozen strawberry margarita without getting the slightest brain freeze. Then again, you had to have a brain to get a brain freeze...

“Why did you leave me?” Gemma asked.

Geraldine did a juvenile eye roll as to say, here we go again and replied, “I already answered this question for Gianna.”

“Well, I’m not Gianna. I’m asking for myself. Why?”

After taking a gulp of margarita, Geraldine said, “I’ma tell you the same thing I told Gianna. I kept a roof over your head, but I wasn’t one of those motherly women. I liked having my freedom.”

“Then if you wanted freedom more than you wanted children, why didn’t you keep your legs closed?”

Geraldine grew indignant. “I’m not going to sit here and be insulted, Gemma. You asked me to come out here, and I obliged. Now, can we have a decent conversation?”

Gemma sighed. That was her intent initially – to have a decent discussion but Geraldine made it so difficult. “So, am I to understand you left me because you didn’t want to be tied down.”

“That’s right.”

And you really want to have a decent conversation with me after admitting that? “Give me a name.”

“Of who?”

“My father,” Gemma snapped.

Geraldine rolled her eyes. Again. “His name is Logan Spriggs, and do yourself a favor. Don’t contact him. He’s living it up in Ballantyne with his white wife.”

“He’s married...” Gemma said quietly, talking it through. She looked up at Geraldine and asked, “Does he know about me?”

“Yep. Sure does. Now, ask me how many times that buster has asked me about you.” She formed the shape of a zero with her fingers, then had the nerve to peep through the circle with her right eye. “If you want to talk to him, be prepared to be let down.”

Gemma shook her head. “I’m used to being let down. If a person, a girl, a young woman can’t depend on her own mother, I think other disappointments in life will come at a much lesser blow. I guess that’s the lesson I learned in all of this. Your failure to be a mother has, in essence, prepared me for all the other letdowns I’m sure to have in life. See, I do have something to thank you for, Geraldine.”

Geraldine glared at her daughter for a moment, then plastered a smile on her face before asking, “So, shall we order?”

Gemma’s face tightened with anger. The more she interacted with Geraldine, the more she could understand Gianna’s frustration with the woman. She had a way of being unbelievably nonchalant after she caused so much pain. Gemma couldn’t take anymore. She stood up and said, “On second thought, I’m not hungry. I’m just going to go. Enjoy your lunch.”

“Gemma...”

“Have a good day, Geraldine,” Gemma said, quickly walking away from the table and exiting the restaurant. She strolled along the boardwalk, heading back to the bakery but taking her time and actually getting that air she told Gianna about. While she walked, she thought about calling Royal back, or at the very least responding to his text messages but since he left, or more like since Bernadette made it clear how she felt about them as a couple, she hadn’t bothered. She needed time to think it through, plus she’d watched enough black movies to know that if a man’s mother didn’t like you, the relationship was destined for failure.

When she stepped back into the bakery, she saw Gianna on the cordless phone. Then Gianna said, “Here she is now. Hold on.”

“Hey, it’s Royal,” Gianna whispered, covering the receiver.

Gemma frowned. Crap. Royal. She took the phone then said as upbeat as she could, “Hey Royal.”

“Where have you been?”

“I just took a walk.”

“I’m not talking about your walk. You haven’t been returning my calls, voicemails or text messages.

“I know. I’m sorry. I’ve just been tired and—”

“Too tired to reply to a text, Gemma?”

“Royal, it’s getting busy in here. I gotta go. I’ll call you later.”

“Gemma—”

“I’ll call you later.”

“Okay,” he said.

“Bye.”

“Bye, Gemma.”

Gemma sighed heavily when she handed Gianna the phone back.

“You want to tell me what that was about?” Gianna asked.

“What?”

“You told him we were busy and we ain’t all that busy. Plus, when I told you it was Royal on the phone, you looked annoyed. And why does he even have to call the bakery to get ahold of you? Why aren’t you answering his calls?”

“Stop! Enough with all the questions, Gianna. I’m not in the mood.”

Gemma took an apron from the rack and tied it on.

Gianna looked at her, trying to figure out what was bothering her sister. “Did you two get into an argument or something?”

“No.”

“Then what is it, Gemma?”

Gemma leaned against the counter giving her sister a vacant stare. “I realized I can’t be with him. He told me he loves me. That he wants me, but I can’t be with him.”

“Why not? Because you’re afraid?”

“No. I’m not afraid.”

“Then, what is it?”

“I overheard Bernadette tell Mason that she didn’t want her son falling for a sick woman. She said she’s already had to endure one of her sons losing a woman he loved to cancer and she didn’t want to go through it again.”

“Bernadette said that?” Gianna asked, in disbelief. Bernadette was always warm and nice. She couldn’t imagine her saying anything of that nature.

“Yeah, she did and I can’t even blame her for feeling that way. Would you jump on a boat if you knew it was sinking?”

“You’re not sinking, Gem. You’re doing good. The doctor has given you a phenomenal prognosis and you literally have your whole life ahead of you.”

“Yeah, well it still can’t be with Royal.”

“You’re going to let one comment sway the way you feel for him?”

“The comment came from his mother.”

“So what? You’re not in love with his mother. You’re in love with him.”

“Yeah, so anyway, which cupcakes needs frosting first?” Gemma asked, changing the subject.

Gianna growled. “Gemma, stop being stubborn and listen.”

“I’ve heard enough, Gianna. Besides, you want to know what the really sad part about this whole thing is?”

“What’s that?”

“Royal wouldn’t even know me had you and Ramsey never met. If I was anywhere else—like let’s say in actual places where people meet like a bar—if he saw me in a bar with a scarf tied on my head, do you think he would’ve offered to buy me a drink, or at the very least, introduced himself to me?”

“Maybe.”

“How ‘bout no. He wouldn’t. You know that.”

“Then you can make the same argument about me and Ramsey.”

“No, because Ramsey met you at your business. He brags to everybody he knows about your cupcakes and your bakery and how good you are at what you do. I don’t have that. Only thing I’m good at is taking naps. I can’t even drive a car without crashing into a freakin’ pole—”

“Wait. What?” Gianna asked.

“Yes, I backed Royal’s one-hundred-thousand-dollar Tesla into a light pole.”

“What!”

“But it wasn’t a big deal so don’t get all—”

“What were you doing driving his car in the first place?”

“That’s beside the point. Back to what we were talking about…why would a man who has the full package want a woman with nothing?” Gemma massaged her temples.

“Gem—”

“The question was rhetorical, Gianna. Now tell me, which cupcakes needed to be frosted first?”

Gianna opened her mouth to respond, but she didn’t say a word. What was there to say? She wanted to be a listening ear for her sister to vent. Most times, that’s what people needed – a listening ear. She definitely didn’t want to say anything to further aggravate her sister. As it was, she was under enough stress. She had no intent on making it worse for her.

“The first batch is going to be chocolate so you can start on that one if you want.”

“Okay,” Gemma said, still irritated and weak – mentally and physically – but somehow she found the strength to pull through and take on the tasks that she knew would help her sister. And staying busy would help keep her mind off of Royal.