Page 6 of Forever Mine

I can’t help it; I giggle.

“Nana, you can’t say ‘son of a bitch’ about my father. That means you called yourself a bitch,” I tease. She gives me a halfhearted smile.

“Well, in this case, it stands. Your father … he’s astronzo,” she mutters as she continues to jam as much as possible in the duffel bags. “Come on,bambino. We must go.”

As we grab the three bags, I turn to take a look at my childhood bedroom. So many memories here. So many daydreams about my future. Within the past five years, I’ve slowly come to realize my childhood dreams were never going to happen. Now there may be a light at the end of the tunnel, and I’m taking it.

CHAPTER THREE

Monica

Age 25

“It’s one night out, Em. I’m not asking you to take a week and jet off to Cabo,” I say dryly to my best friend as she frets over our plans.

“I just have so much to do to get ready for the school year, and the admin already told us they took away our planning periods this year, so I have no extra time to do anything …” Emily trails off. I sigh and roll my eyes. My bestie isn’t one for flying by the seat of her pants. She appreciates a schedule and knowing what’s coming next.

“Em, I need this. I need it. I’m barely making ends meet here, and I just want to go out one night and forget how fucked my life is. Please,” I plead.

Barely making ends meet isn’t even a good analogy for describing my life and finances. Well, lack of finances. The phrase ‘doesn’t have two coins to rub together’ is hella accurate. I’m not complaining, though. I may consider WalMart clothing to be upscale on my budget, but at least I’m not married to an abusive pedophile in the mob.

My Nana and I have been in Oklahoma for eight years now. The first two years were incredibly rough. I finished high school while working two part-time jobs, and Nana returned to work full-time for the first time in decades. She never complained, though. She acted like Kraft mac and cheese was gourmet, and a special treat was ice cream on Saturday nights.

Emily and I met when I was twenty and able to enroll in the local community college. Em knew she wanted to be a teacher and was almost done with her associate’s before transferring to a state university to finish her degree. While I admired her career goals, I felt completely lost at what I wanted to do. Maybe growing up the way I did meant that I was never pushed in any direction. My parents obviously expected I’d be married off withinLa Famigliaat some point, and then my only job would be to pop out Italian babies and act like I didn’t know what any of the men did in their day jobs.

But a full-time job? Eh. I only knew I wanted to make enough money to never have to return to Texas and ask for help. Which is why I’m currently managing a children’s clothing store. Slightly above minimum wage, and at least I don’t have to wear the product.

Em and I live in a two-bedroom apartment in a not-so-nice part of our small town. It’s where Emily grew up, and I moved out here once she and I became friends. My grandmother is in a small studio apartment closer to Oklahoma City. It’s not ideal, but it works for us. Nana has taken Em under her grandmother wings, even giving her the nickname of Emily-Bemily. Em rolls her eyes each time she hears it, but I know she secretly loves it. Em had a really rough childhood. Rougher than mine. She needed Nana as much as I did.

“Alright, fine. But I’m setting a three-drink maximum, Miss Sassypants. You can’t control your shenanigans if you get more liquor than that,” Emily says with a smile.

“Okay. I will only purchase three drinks,” I agree.

Em looks over her shoulder at me and cocks her brow.

“Three drinks total, Mon. Don’t be getting men to buy you drinks and calling it a technicality,” she tells me.

“Dammit.”

“What do you want for dinner? Do we have enough to go out, or should I just cook old faithful?” Em asks from the kitchen.

“Old faithful. My three drinks are gonna be larges,” I shout back.

Old faithful is hamburger helper. Ballin’ on a budget. You add enough spices to it, and it’s actually not that bad.

“I’m gonna jump in the shower, and then I’ll help you cook,” I call out to her as I head into my bedroom. As I’m about to step into the bathroom, my phone rings.

“Hey, Nana, can I call you back? I’m about to get in the shower,” I say.

“Bambino, no, I need to talk to you now,” my grandmother says, her voice obviously trembling.

“What happened?” I ask.

“Well, I fell, and a neighbor called 911. They took me to the hospital, and I had surgery on my hip because I fractured it. They won’t let me leave here to go home; I have to go to a rehabilitation facility,” she blurts out.

“Holy shit, Nana! Why didn’t you call me earlier?” I cry. Em runs in, still holding the pan in which she’s cooking the ground beef.

“Because I knew you’d worry, and I didn’t want to do that. The doctors want you to call around to the different rehab places and see what’s available, okay? I’m so sorry,bambino. I hate having to bother you,” Nana frets.

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