Chapter Five
Simon
I'm a dick. Damn it. Why am I always such a dick to her? I can't help it. There is just something about seeing Gia that makes me all hot and bothered and, damn it, I wish it would just be in the sexual meaning of the term.
I thought, years ago, I'd put away my anger and bitterness for what Gia did. Pushed it to the very back and hid it behind a bunch of other shit. But I was unexpectedly reminded several months ago that you just don't forget the girl that got away. Well, the girl that went away and took your heart with her, and then stomped all over it and never found the decency to return it.
I don't know why I subject myself, and the others, to my bitterness by tagging along with Dex when he goes over to hang out with Morgan. I don't come every time, I get it, Morgan and Dex are in love and are still in the disgustingly cute stage where they can't keep their hands off each other.
But I just can't stay away from Gia. Maybe I'm a masochist. Memories from when we were kids always come swarming back, usually right after I've ignored or been rude to her.
There are just so many memories of the two of us, and when the memories rush back into my head I get pissed off.
I'd say that I've known Gia Newman my whole life, but that wouldn't be true anymore. We grew up in the same small town and became close friends in middle school. We lived on the same street, so we walked home from the bus stop together. And our friendship just grew. I really don't know how it happened.
By high school, we were attached at the hip. My buddies thought we were screwing. I denied it at first, said that she was just my best friend. And she was but it didn't take me long to realize that it was more than that. At least on my end. By our sophomore year, everyone just assumed we were an item. Neither of us corrected the assumption. So, maybe we were.
When she left at the end of our sophomore year, I thought my life was over. I might have been a bit dramatic. I didn't know what hit me. Just like that, she was gone. She wouldn't take my calls. I didn't have her new address. It felt like a piece of me just disappeared.
I might not know this grown-up version of Gia, but one thing about her remains the same: I know when something is weighing on her mind. Even though Morgan and Dex are carrying on next to me, I can't take my focus off of Gia, who's cleaning in the kitchen.
She stands at the sink doing dishes, but she is just staring out the window above the sink. There is this far-off look in her eyes. I shouldn’t let it bother me and, yet, it does.
Growing up, life was hard for her at home. Her twin, Todd, was a massive pain in the ass. He was so mean to Gia. He had some mental problems, but for the longest time he was undiagnosed and running wild around town. It wreaked havoc on Gia's life.
I remember finding her one evening up in the tree house in my backyard. She had been crying over something Todd had done, I don't even remember what it was now.
We were 14, and I was in that awkward boy-turning-into-a-teen stage. I was skinny as shit, but all I wanted to do was comfort her. I slung my arm around her and she laid her head on my shoulder.
"You are the only one that makes me feel better," she sniffled.
I squeezed her a bit closer.
"You're the only one who knows how mean he can be to me. Can I just stay in this tree house with you forever?" She spoke through dried-up tears and a stuffy nose.
"I'll always be here for you, Gia. And I'll keep you for as long as you want to stay," I murmured into her hair.
I was lame back then. But she was mine and I was hers. I never told anyone about how bad things were with her brother. Her parents knew, to an extent, about how mean he was to her. They tried so hard to get him the help he needed, but it was a very stressful time for all of them.
This memory makes me wonder about them now though. What is her relationship with Todd like now that they are adults? I assume he doesn't live in Chicago since her parents don't. They go where Todd goes. That's what took her away from me when we were sixteen.
Dex and Morgan get up and leave the room. I think she is staying with Dex tonight, but I haven't been paying any attention to the conversation. Against my better judgment, I stand and head for the kitchen under the guise of getting a drink. I open the fridge, surreptitiously trying to get her attention.
I close the door with a bit more force than necessary. Nothing. So, I walk up to the sink next to her and look out the window, too.
God, she smells good.
So damn good.
And she’s absolutely stunning. Her golden hair comes past her shoulders and falls in waves that make me think she’s been at the beach all day, though I know she hasn’t. Her slightly rounded nose and perfect pink lips are precisely how I remember them. But her dark-blue eyes always have a way of rooting out people’s bullshit, which is what I’m certain will happen if she ever looks up at me.
I've done my best to keep a physical distance from her. I don't want to be too close, for fear that I will reach out and touch her, like old times. She was always so close to me when we were kids.
I brush her arm as I lift the pop to my mouth and take a drink. This startles her, but it only takes a second to regain her composure.
"What ya looking at?" I ask, not taking my eyes off the apartment building across the street.
"Oh, nothing. I was just thinking, I guess," she sighs as she moves the bowl in her hands back under the running water.
"You guess? How do you not know?" I ask, using my same words from earlier, but in a gentler tone.
She looks at me this time, which is what I wanted. "Stop asking me questions if you always hate my answers." She says it with a ghost of a smile.
Acting on its own, my shoulder bumps hers.
We've danced around each other for months. I haven't touched her since that first night we met again as adults. I shook her hand because I was caught off guard. But today, we've touched twice. Where are the walls I've built?
She looks up at me with a hint of something in her eyes that I can't quite figure out. Interest? Need? Maybe longing.
"I'm just kidding, G." I smile at her. Something I haven't done toward her in a very long time. Yeah, that look in her eyes is definitely longing.
She gives me a sad smile before turning to put the bowl on the drying rack. It isn't lost on me that she's hand-washing the dishes instead of letting the dishwasher take care of them.
"I really do want to know what's got you staring out the window."
She eyes me. "Why?"
I give this some thought. Why do I want to know so bad? Why do I care?
"Because I care?" Maybe I shouldn't have asked. Yeah, I can see that was the wrong thing to say when she snorts and tosses an eye roll my way. A laugh escapes her lips but there’s no humor in it.
"Yeah, you care. Since when, Simon? You can't even look me in the eye. You don't care. So, don't waste your breath," she spits out and starts shoving dishes in the dishwasher now, throwing all kinds of temper around with the task.
"Jeesh. Chill, alright? I guess old habits die hard. I can still tell when something is wrong. We do have a history. That won't ever change," I say, defending myself.
At this, she goes rigid. Ah-ha. Either bringing up the fact that we have a history or my telling her to chill—which she hates—has stopped her in her tracks; I'm guessing it’s a little bit of both.
"Just leave me alone, Simon," she mutters.
"Is it your brother? Does he live here in Chicago? Are things better between the two of you or is he still an asshole with problems?" I can't hold it in, I've got to know.
She puts the last cup in the washer and closes the door uncharacteristically slowly. She then wipes her hands on the towel, lays it down, and slowly turns to me.
Murderous.
If looks could kill, I'd be six feet under. She steps a tad closer to me.
"You … do not get to ask about him. You do not get to bring him up. Ever. Do not ever speak about him, or the past, to me or anyone." Her voice is so low it makes my skin prickle.
"Uh, OK." I gulp. This evil clone Gia is scary as shit.
She takes a step back, then turns to leave the kitchen.
Then as her words register, I realize.
"They don't know, do they?"
She stops. Looks over her shoulder at me. Instead of anger, guilt clouds her eyes.
"No," she says, and walks away.