Chapter Four Remi
Chapter Four
Remi
Remi wheeled the pewter-colored SUV through downtown San Francisco, past the skyscrapers and through the busy traffic and neighborhoods of hotels and happy-hour hot spots.
She made her way to the Bay, with its turquoise waters and to the entrance of the Golden Gate Bridge.
It was this picturesque route across the Pacific Ocean that she loved so much; reveled in it.
She usually took pictures when she’d driven across it with Gerard.
She glanced over at Bianca, who sat straight up in the passenger’s seat, her eyes bulged with amazement, her smartphone in video mode.
She was grateful that her friend was able to join her on this trip.
“This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Bianca looked over at Remi.
“I was floored the first time Gerard and I drove this route.” Remi bit her bottom lip, her thoughts a chaotic jumble of emotions. She gazed out the window to rid her mind of it; a pair of Ray-Bans on her face, she fought back tears as she breathed in deeply and then exhaled.
“You okay?”
“Fine.” Remi gave her friend a light smile. “Nostalgia.”
Bianca grabbed Remi’s hand and squeezed it. “I know.”
The two of them had been close for as far back as Remi could remember—best friends, but more like sisters.
Though Remi had a sister, Sophia, and they were as close as any two sisters could be, she was much closer to Bianca.
The pair grew up in the same diverse Louisiana community, with a rich history, in a neighborhood that blended many ethnicities.
Remi and her sister were from a stable, two-parent family of African Creole descent, while Bianca was raised by her Cuban grandmother.
They were as different as night and day: Remi, the more levelheaded one who’d chosen a journalistic path in college, while Bianca changed majors as often as she swapped out boyfriends, at least until she’d found Harry. Harry brought stability to her life.
Bianca had always been her protector. From the time they were children, she’d stood between Remi and whatever tried to hurt her—words, fists, heartbreak.
If anyone so much as looked at Remi the wrong way, Bianca was there, fists clenched and ready for a fight.
And she wasn’t just her human shield; she was her biggest cheerleader.
The loudest voice in the room when Remi doubted herself.
The first to celebrate her wins and the last to let her wallow in loss.
Bianca believed in her even when Remi didn’t believe in herself.
It had always been that way between them.
Even now, as Remi looked at her, eyes weary from a night of too little sleep; Remi had kept her up most of the night, venting and reminiscing about Gerard.
She couldn’t sleep, and so Bianca hadn’t either.
Her head bounced against the back of the passenger seat, as she stopped the video recording and called Mila.
“Still not answering,” she said.
“Maybe she’s charging it,” Remi reasoned.
“Yeah maybe.” Bianca sighed. “Do you know Harry’s taking her to Maine?”
Remi frowned. “What’s in Maine?”
“He wants her to meet that woman’s family.”
“The girlfriend?”
“The girlfriend who he intends to propose marriage to this weekend.”
“Nooo.” Remi glanced over at Bianca; shock rushed through her.
Her heart ached for her friend, who was noticeably bothered.
She knew Bianca better than anyone did. She loved Harry.
And though she would never admit it or say it aloud, Remi knew Bianca always had hopes of reconciling with him.
“You know she could never take your place, right? You’ll always be Mila’s mom. ”
“I just feel like we’re always at odds with each other, Mila and me. She still blames me for the divorce, you know.” Bianca sighed. “Harry divorced me. Not the other way around.”
“She’ll get past it. Just wait until she goes through her own shit—a breakup, a divorce, real life, grown-up stuff. She doesn’t understand it now, but she will one day.”
“I’m going to try my best to connect with her when she gets here. I’ll try to bond; rebuild our mother-daughter relationship. We were becoming closer before the divorce.”
“You are a great mother, B. Never doubt that. I saw the sacrifices that you made for her.”
“I was so busy building my business. She spent more time with Harry. I feel like I missed those formative years with her, you know?” Bianca was on the verge of tears but fought them.
Remi knew she’d never allow herself to feel, to be vulnerable.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen Bianca cry—always determined to show strength.
“We aren’t like you and Zoe. You two are the perfect mother-daughter duo. ”
“We’re far from perfect.” Remi laughed, thinking of some of the challenges they’d faced.
Zoe had her moments, for sure. There were times when she defied Remi, especially after she turned sixteen and—as Remi’s mother used to say, started “smelling herself,” that old phrase meaning she was getting a little too full of herself.
Those were trying times, and Remi was grateful they had moved past that phase. Things were easier now between them.
“Overall, she’s been a great kid. And we spend a lot of time together. Had to, because Gerard wasn’t always there. He worked so much.”
“Homeschooling made the difference, too, huh?” Bianca asked.
“It helped.”
Homeschooling had given Zoe a good, solid foundation.
It also allowed them more time together.
But when she decided that she wanted to attend a public high school, Remi wasn’t ready for it—not at all.
She tried to talk her out of it, but Zoe was adamant that she wanted to spend her last two years in public school, be a normal kid.
With that, Remi had to respect her wishes.
“Even after she went to public school, it worked out,” Bianca said.
“Yeah, it did. Turned out to be the best thing for her socially. She thrived in public school and excelled academically. She was the most popular girl at the freaking school—cheerleader, homecoming queen, varsity volleyball star. All of it.”
But Remi knew it was more about Zoe proving a point to herself, and to the girls at school, who believed she couldn’t do any of those things. Zoe never truly cared about pompoms or crowns. In fact, she hated wearing dresses and heels. She was most comfortable in denim and T-shirts.
“Mila excelled at the private school that Harry insisted upon. But I think she missed out by not being exposed to other things. She was a bit sheltered.”
“Mila’s a great kid. You both did well with her—you and Harry. Don’t beat yourself up. Just take advantage of this time with her. When she gets here, make the most of it.”
“I will.” Bianca gave Remi a half smile. “I really plan to.”
Remi turned up the volume on the stereo.
Louis Armstrong’s “What a Wonderful World” filled the car as she continued to drive the SUV across the Golden Gate Bridge.
Bianca lifted her sunglasses from her eyes to get a better look at the stretch of valley, the rows of vegetation, and the mountainous views outside her window.
She glanced over at Remi. “You know we’re not listening to this ancient Grandma Lorraine music the whole two weeks, right? I mean, I love Grandma Lorraine like she’s my own, but …”
“What do you have against old school?” Remi laughed.
It was great to laugh, to feel normal, something she hadn’t felt in weeks.
And it was a genuine laugh. She could be herself with Bianca and be honest. They allowed each other to just be.
Don’t put on a face, just live in whatever you were feeling.
That’s what she loved most about their friendship.
“That’s not really old school, Rem. That’s some Louisiana 1940s stuff.” Bianca laughed. “We’re listening to some rap after this.”
“Not rap!” Remi giggled, the sunshine hitting her face. She cracked the window slightly, letting Napa’s mild breeze drift in, lifting her curls, and carrying with it the scent of wildflowers.
“Yes, rap.” Bianca laughed and then relaxed in her seat, looking out the window. “It’s so beautiful up here. I’ve never seen anything like it. I can’t believe it took me so long to get here.”
“I can believe it. You’re a workaholic.”
“Someone has to pay the bills, you know? I’m on my own now.”
“Harry left you a nice little nest egg, and I’m sure you invested it well. And you should try to live more, now that you’ve won your fight with … you know …”
“You can say it, Remi. Now that I’ve won my fight with breast cancer …”
“Yes, that.”
Bianca’s breast cancer had been in remission for two years.
Remi admired her friend, a survivor who had refused to let cancer steal her light.
Bianca was tough. She had battled the disease and endured a painful divorce, all at the same time.
Through it all, Remi had stood by her side—every hospital visit, every chemo treatment, every weary moment.
When Harry walked out, abandoning their marriage when she needed him most, Remi was there then too. She’d been her sounding board, her steady place, and the friend who gave her strength when she couldn’t muster any for herself.
Remi offered her a warm smile as the sunlight streamed through the windshield of the SUV, casting golden rays across the dashboard. It was a picture-perfect day—eighty-six degrees in California’s wine country. The air was rich.
“I know, I should take more time to enjoy life.”