Page 37 of Isn't She Lucky
“You’re not upset?”
“No, not at you.”
Diedra breathes a sigh of relief. “Good, because the marriage stuff was all his idea.”
“You knew about that, too!”
“Um…I think I’ve said enough. He’ll have to tell you the rest. Do you need me to come and get you?”
“No. I’m fine.”
“Then drive home. You and Kasim have a lot to talk about.”
“We do. Thank you, Diedra. For everything.”
“You’re welcome. I love you, girl.”
“I love you back.”
10.
It’s past midnight.I’ve been sitting on the front steps for hours, waiting for Giada to pull up. The waiting is difficult because I’ve been doing it for years, and I want it to come to an end. But I imagine she’s going through a lot now that she knows what her mother did to us. If she lied about that, then I know she wasn’t being truthful when she told my mother that Giada outgrew me. It was all a ploy to keep us apart. But why?
When I see lights at the gate, I stand up and anxiously await her arrival. I know she’s tired. She was crying on the phone when she was talking to me hours ago. I hope those tears have since dried up because I can’t handle seeing her cry. It destroys me.
She parks in the driveway. I walk to the car, open the door for her, and allow her to step out. Looking at her face and into her eyes, I see the pain that’s written over her heart.
“My head hurts, and I’m tired,” she says softly. “I don’t have any energy to talk, Kase. I just want to sleep.”
“Okay.”
“Do you need me to get anything for you?”
“No. I want to take a shower and sleep.”
I close the car door and reach for her hand. I’m not sure if she’ll accept my grasp, but I’m relieved when she does.
I don’t say a word more. I soak up this moment, allowing her hand to rest in mine while we walk up the stairs – while I escort her to her bedroom.
She steps inside.
“Goodnight,” she says weakly.
“Goodnight, Giada.”
I’m up earlySunday morning, hoping she’d be up so we can discuss some things. I go to her room, knock on the door, but I don’t get an answer.
“Giada, are you in there?”
It’s close to noon. Maybe she’s still sleeping since she was up so late last night crying. Maybe her headache hasn’t subsided.
I knock again before turning the doorknob. When I open the door, I see an unmade, empty bed.
“Giada?”
Walking to the bathroom, I don’t find her there either.
I immediately look out one of the front-facing windows to see if her car is in the driveway.
