A week and a half later, Keys and Heat boasted about their latest sexcapades in Gia’s living room. At Dante’s insistence, they’d been assigned to “guard dog duty”—more like “loser watch”—as they all prepped for the holiday tour, starting next week. Dante had been worried about Gia’s state of mind so took it upon himself to organize the band and Kennedy to keep her company until they began their tour.
“Aw, yeah, that shorty showed you. When you couldn’t get it up, she poured beer on your wanger,” Keys said, hooting. “‘Take that, you big booze-hound,’“ he said in a high-pitched voice. “‘You should be hard as stone when I’m in the room,’“ he added, in the same girlie tone.
“Shut up.” Heat rolled his eyes. “I got it up when the other chick came in the room. The bitch you rolled with was homely as they come. Asshole.”
“Yeah,” Keys said. “Girl thought herself, Miss Universe. ‘Oh, hey,’“ he said, back to his girl's voice. “‘Don’t you like what I’m wearing? I’m so pretty, don’t you think?’“
“Right. And she’s on the bed having starfish sex with you,” Heat said, getting his own jabs in. He chortled with laughter. “Arms wide, eyes glazed, waiting for you to finish.”
“Fuck that. She loved me.”
“Did not.”
“Did, too. She wasn’t nothing but a bang piece, anyway.”
“You fucked a starfish,” Heat taunted.
Gia listened to the two bozos from her bedroom, the door slightly ajar. “Idiots.”
They both howled with laughter.
“Some guard dogs they are,” she muttered. “At least they’re entertaining.”
Their first gig would be held in Chicago. After that, it was Atlanta, Minneapolis, Phoenix, Denver, Portland, Vancouver, Canada and then Seattle, a week before Christmas, followed by Christmas break for the band. After that, they’d head for the Bay Area and then So. Cal.
If I make it that far, Gia thought, staring at their schedule. Without falling off the wagon. She sighed. Fat chance of losing the fight with booze.
Every time she even thought of a drink, the photo of Marco and Shauna swam through her head like an Olympic contender in a sprint for the gold—that was after it did a barrel jump, complete with a mighty splash, into her mind’s thought pool. Each and every time, it captured her attention, paralyzing her.
She sat at her simple desk next to the window that overlooked the park across the street.
Children pushed each other in swings and ran around in circles in the cyclone fence enclosed city park, making all kinds of joyous noise. Moms sat in benches talking. Gia glanced at them from time to time, with no more interest than watching flies buzz around the windowsill.
She’d gone to a gazillion meetings since they returned. Hell, I may as well put a cot in the community center. I can bathe in the homeless shelter next door. Maybe sleep there, too.
She couldn’t remember smiling in the last few days. She refused to remember the night in Sausalito when she might have experienced an encounter with joy. Until it crashed and burned. But then, he was probably thanking her right now for ending it.
She slid a crisp, white piece of paper from the pack she’d purchased at Office Depot yesterday. Her new sponsor had urged her to write two letters—one to Marco, and one to her sister. She’d tried to start last night but only succeeded in crying herself to sleep.
Today, however, with Keys and Heat acting like morons in her living room, she decided to have another go.
Dear Marco, she wrote. She scribbled it out with her fancy new pen, crumpled the paper, and tossed it into the waste can next to her desk. It landed with a soft rustle on top of a pile of other wadded up papers.
“What the hell good will this do?” She let out a groan.
She slid another sheet free from the pack. Marco said to speak from my heart. Too bad I don’t have one. She tapped the pen against the desk, blew her breath from her lungs, and started again.
Shauna, she wrote. My beautiful sister. Protecting you was as easy as breathing when we were kids. I couldn’t imagine it any other way. Leaving you after high school was the beginning of my quest to escape. I hated myself for leaving you. Abandoning you. I took the coward’s way out, running away. I’ve been running ever since. And when you found me, blitzed in that bar in Greenwich Village, what might have been a happy reunion turned into one of the most sorrowful days of my life. The other was screwing with your fiancée’s heart, not counting what it did to him when you died. Can you ever forgive me? Can I ever forgive myself? I sure as hell won’t ever forgive the drunk asshole driving the semi. Or myself for being so drunk I never felt the impact. You, my sweet sibling, catapulted out of the driver’s seat like an angel shot through Heaven’s gate.
Tears plopped onto the paper, making the ink run. Gia dabbed at it with her sleeve, doing nothing to stop the flow. After a lifetime of feeling nothing, she kind of, sort of appreciated feeling something besides numb, hoping the tears would stop someday. She finished the letter, writing, I loved you with all my heart. I love you still. May both our hearts be at peace, someday, somewhere, somehow. Your big sis, Gia.
Her foot tapped the floor for a few seconds. “Truth time. We always told each other the truth when we were kids,” she whispered.
Ever since I left home, leaving you behind, she wrote, there’s been a hole in my heart. A huge vacant crater. Meeting Marco made me feel whole for at least a moment. If he made you feel half what he made me feel, you were lucky to have him. I’m so sorry I fucked that up for everybody.
A huge sigh left her lungs. A beam of sunlight chose that moment to stream in the window. Gia squinted, glaring at it, wondering why the sun chose to shine at that very minute into her room. Shouldn’t the devil appear with his pitchfork and leap into Hell with me, taking me where I belong?
“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” her sponsor had told her a couple days ago. “You’ve paid for your actions a hundred times over. Now’s the time to ask for forgiveness where you can, forgive where you’re able, and to learn how to live, eyes wide, heart open.”
“It hurts too much to feel,” Gia had answered.
Her sponsor had held her, letting her cry, and, while it wasn’t Marco’s arms around her, it had helped somewhat.
Writing Marco proved far more difficult than writing to her sister.
Marco, she wrote.
“Fuck that,” she mumbled, scribbling furiously.
Brutus. The worst thing I thought I could ever do was be responsible for my baby sister’s death. That one hurt like a motherfucker. When I went through the DTs, with you as my anchor, thinking I might die, that came a close second. Little did I know, that was only the beginning. Far worse was hurting you. You know those thousand years you spoke of? If I could take my actions back a thousand times over, it wouldn’t be enough to make amends to you. If I suffer my actions for a thousand more years, maybe I’ll make a dent. I’ve got a lot of work to do. Because of you...because of my sister...I’ll do the work. Make amends. And cherish you for the rest of my life. You gave me a glimpse at what it’s like to truly be loved. I hope you find happiness because if anyone deserves it, you do. Her foot tapped against the floor as she thought a moment. Oh, and...I found your brains and gave them to a good charity. Some small child can now think straight, thanks to your donation. She chuckled at her little joke.
“Okay, are we good? Did you say your piece, my heart?” She inclined her head as if listening to her thrumming inner blood-pump. “You say it’s a little sappy, but at least it’s sincere?” She listened again. “Nothing else to add?” More listening. “Oh, for Pete’s sake. Really? All right. I’ll do it for you.” She picked up a different pen and made three hearts on the page. Then, in keeping with her character, she drew a skull and crossbones. She thought a moment, tapping the pen against the desk. Then, she drew another heart, captured in a spider’s web. In her best cursive, she wrote, Yes, it fell free, my heart, my heart, caught in the sturdy web of you.
“Maybe Dante can use that line in a song.” She chuckled again.
Now the sun did a full stage-show illumination through the window, like floodlights at concert’s end.
“The big guy in the sky is messing with me,” she said. “Nice special effects.”
She sat back, realizing she felt a tiny bit better.
When her door buzzer sounded, she turned her head toward the living room.
Heat and Keys were still making lots of stupid guy noises to go with their stories.
“Hey!” she shouted. “Brain dead idiots in the living room...”
“What?” Keys added.
“Answer the door buzzer. You’re in charge.” God help me to be under the care of those two. She got up from her chair, stretched, and sauntered to her bathroom to relieve herself.
When she returned, Kennedy stood near her desk, wearing some classy pants and a loose fitting blue top. The sunlight bounced off her blonde hair, making her look like all etheric and amazing, as usual. Kennedy never over-dressed, but, when she wasn’t mucking out a tiger cage or bottle-feeding them, she dressed well. Gia always admired Kennedy’s style, even when she was pissed at her.
Gia hurried toward the desk and put her hand over the letters.
“Those are private,” she said. “You didn’t read them, did you?”
“No, I just walked in. I wanted to see if you needed a break from those two.” Kennedy stabbed her thumb in the direction of the living room.
“Thanks, yeah. They’re white noise at this point. I’ve known them for far too long to take anything they say or do seriously,” Gia said, putting herself between the letters and Kennedy.
“Still crying all the time?” Kennedy asked, her shrewd blue eyes tracking Gia’s face.
“Damn. It’s like that’s all I do. Boo-hoo this and boo-hoo that.” Gia sighed. “I should have bought stock in whoever makes Kleenex before I went into recovery.”
Kennedy snorted. “It gets better, promise. I went through it, too. It’s like once the lights go on, illuminating your feelings and you stop numbing yourself, your body makes up for lost time, expressing every sorrow that you ever endured or participated in. I know it’s crazy and it seems endless, but it will stop when you’re done with all this process of amends and so on. And then, you’ll only cry at the moment, when appropriate.” Kennedy smiled.
“I sure hope so.” Gia put her hands on Kennedy’s shoulders, pivoted her around, and then pointed to the living room. “Wait for me out there, okay?”
“Oh, no, you’re sending me out there to be with them?” Kennedy said, in mock horror.
“Only for a moment. I’ll be right out, and then we can go grab a bite or something. Get!” Gia waved her hand.
“Going,” Kennedy said, shuffling from the room.
After she left, Gia eyed her handiwork.
“It helped somewhat,” she whispered. “But there’s a better place for my sentiments.” She neatly folded the two pieces of paper, not wanting to crush them, and placed them in the waste can. “You’ll find a new home tomorrow when the garbage truck comes,” she told the paper. She brushed her hands together and proceeded to saunter out the door.
The last thing she wanted was for Marco to know the depth of her feelings…because if he knew…more like if she let herself feel that much…she didn’t know if she could ever shove them back in the box.