Page 16 of Bone Dust

“And I’ll have a puddin’ pop, ‘k Momma?”

I nod and Gigi goes over to Cora. She takes her hand and pulls her toward the kitchen. “C’mon.”

Cora obeys and glances over her shoulder while dragging behind Gigi. “Go lay down on the sofa. You look tired. I’ll get you when it’s ready.

“I don’t ne?—”

“A fifteen-minute power nap,” she insists.

I can’t resist but watch as they vanish down the hallway. With just a few steps I’m near the sofa and lower myself down. I’m drained. Seeing Ian churned up all sorts of emotions, as did the standing ovation, and the overstuffed, flowery-print cushions are calling to me.

I stretch out and pull a crocheted afghan from the back to cover me. “Just a power nap,” I mutter to myself, just before closing my eyes.

“Momma ...”

“Momma.”

“MOMMA!”

My eyes pop wide. I’m instantly awakened by the jolting tone of my daughter’s call. My hands fly protectively to my chest to protect my racing heart.

“Gigi! Don’t do that!” My words soar on anxious wings.

“Do what, Momma?” Gigi’s scrunched expression begs an explanation. With her hand on her hip, she waits for an answer. “Whatsamatter?”

“You called me like there’s an emergency.” I draw myself to an upright position.

Gigi's mouth pinches. “Oh, nufing’s a ‘ergency. It’s just—DINNER’S WEADY!” She throws her arms up in the air as she bounces up and down.

I roll my eyes and wrestle with uncooperative limbs. It takes a minute before I finally stand and Gigi bolts out of the room. In my groggy state, I battle to synchronize my rapid heartbeat and unwilling body.

“You commin’ Momma?” Gigi pokes her head around the corner of the doorway.

“I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Okay but youse foods getting’ cold.” She pauses, then gives me a very serious look. “You know, Momma, youse gotta eat. They’s children starvin’ for food like ‘dis.”

I freeze as Gigi echoes something my mother used to say. I don’t believe I’ve ever uttered that sentiment to her. Maybe she learned it from Cora. Nonetheless, she sounded just like my mother. She would have loved her granddaughter.

Gigi sails back to me, taking me from a melancholy path.

“I telled you dinner’s weady, Momma.”

“Yes, you did.”

“But youse not weady.”

“Yes, I am.”

Her expression brightens. “Okay! Let’s go!” She grabs my hand and tugs on my arm.

“I have to wash my hands.”

She nods. “Okay.”

“You go ahead to the kitchen. I’ll be right there.”

Ugh. I catch my reflection in the mirror after flipping on the light switch. Mascara’s left smudges beneath my eyes. I rub at the dark crescents and then wash my hands. A quick fluff of my hair and I drift back a few years to note the difference in my appearance. I used to look so fresh. Now, I’ve got a few wrinkles at the corners of my eyes, and I look like I could use a vacation. The girl I was back then is no more. She was quite the dreamer and I’m so much more a realist. Because, that night, everything changed.

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