Gianna's Grit | ✓

V: Leave it to the Photo Albums

GIANNA

None of my relatives answered any of my burning questions before leaving, and I was left with Georgia after helping her get Aunt Philly to bed.

So, not only was I left with her killer side eye, but Aunt Georgia's famous hour-long scolding. I was more shocked by how passionate she was rather than the words coming out of her mouth. Maybe that was why I actually made eye contact with her more often than usual. She employed my help in packing away gumbo for my aunts and uncles to take home tomorrow and then sat me down for more talking once again.

Well, she was talking at me more than she was talking to me if were being honest here.

I was sliding on my heels to go back home when she stepped in front of me, "And where are you going?"

I furrowed my brows, "I have to go home and—"

"You're not going anywhere, you know the rules," she said while locking the front door for effect.

I huffed, "That was when I was a kid, Auntie. I'm old enough to carry a gun and protect myself now—legally."

She raised an eyebrow at me and rested her hands on her hips, "It's not safe in this neighborhood the way it used to be, even for self-proclaimed 'adults'."

"What are you talking about?" I asked, though slid off my heels obediently.

"King has his little brothers walking up and down every street at all times at night, and they always switch schedules so no one ever knows when they'll turn a corner and get shot," she informed me. "The point is; go get some of Saul's pajamas, because you're staying here for tonight."

I set my purse down, "Auntie, I—"

"Gianna May, you are not leaving—"

"It's not about that!" I yelled before taking a deep breath, "I just can't wear his pajamas, auntie."

She frowned, "And why not?"

I held back the lump growing in my throat, "I just can't. It's too soon, and they'll smell like him, and—"

She shushed me, bringing me into an embrace, "I know you two had a bond like no other, Gianna. I know it hurts, baby."

Her affection made me uncomfortable, I wasn't used to her being so.. sensitive. I wanted to hold onto it, I really did, but I couldn't be anything other than uncomfortable.

When she finally released me, she guided me back to my old room that hadn't changed a bit. She handed me a pair of plaid pants and a shirt that were too big to be mine, yet too small to be uncle Saul's.

She left me to change before I could ask who the outfit belonged to, and I obeyed, knowing that waiting for her would spell trouble for me. The pajamas were familiar, but I couldn't pinpoint who they'd belonged to.

I laid in my childhood bed and tried to become comfortable before aunt Georgia reappeared. She had my purse on one arm, and a photo album under the other.