Blown
Chapter Fifteen
"The Way is Narrow"
Carson City, Nevada
May 14, 2005
9:37pm
"Don't you see? It doesn't matter that I saw...It doesn't because even if I hadn't seen...even if I hadn't been there--I would
still know it was true. I would still know..." Cecilia stands before them all, on the verge of hysterics. Her body trembles and tears leak down her face.
"I would still *know* it was true because...because three years ago, Uncle Pace--he raped me, too."
Sharon does not take this news well. She stumbles back, her entire body shaking, and her breathing shallow. Her eyes flash over to her husband, but all she sees--all anyone sees--is his back, because he turns from them and walks away. He strides through the crowd and disappears down a hallway.
Cecilia watches him go; shock and fear freeze her features. "Daddy," she murmurs. The word, offered pathetic and lifeless from her lips, hardens the air. She starts after her father, but takes only a step before her legs give way and she is falling to the ground. She lands on her hands and knees, her pink dress a puddle around her as she hangs her head and sobs.
Gia rushes to her sister's side, drops down on her knees and gathers her into her arms. She whispers into her hair, "It's okay. It's okay."
These words are mostly empty, mostly hollow, mostly useless. Cecilia knows this because a moment later, she shudders and sags. Gia tightens her hold, pulls her closer--lends her sister strength she didn't know she had. She doesn't know what else to say, doesn't know what she could possibly do to make anything different from how it is, how it's been. Helpless, she looks up.
Stefan is there and their eyes meet. He knows he does not belong in the middle of this, that this is very private, but he does not trust these people--family or no--with Gia. Not now that the source of the rift has been exposed. So, in the interest of being unobtrusive, he stands beside the elevator and watches as Gia rocks her sister back and forth on the floor of the hotel lobby.
"I'm here," Gia says. She holds her sister to her chest, afraid to let go.
Sharon slinks over. She lays a hand flat against Cecilia's back. "Why...why didn't you tell me, sweetheart. Why didn't you tell me?"
Cecilia draws back and Gia wraps a protective arm around the younger woman's shoulder. Cecilia's voice is husky from crying when she looks up and asks, "Would you have believed me?"
Sharon replies, "Of course, I would have believed you!" She reaches her arms out for her daughter, but Cecilia won't be lured into them.
"You didn't believe Gia," she accuses.
Sharon looks from her daughter to Gia, her eyes full of fear. "I couldn't--"
"You couldn't what?" Gia interrupts. "I came to you first; I showed you the bruises on my ribs, on my hips...on my thighs..." Gia pauses, her tears threatening to overtake her. "I told you that Pace raped me. And you called me a liar. You told my father I was a slut. That's the word you used, wasn't it? Slut? I was a slut who threw myself at your brother. He tried to let me down easy but was forced to defend himself when I attacked him. That's the story, right? That's what Pace told you and that's what you told Daddy. And, Daddy believed you. YOU...but no one believed me because I was just some stupid girl with a crush. Now, he's done the same thing to Cecilia, but at least no one is calling her a liar."
"Please, just..." Sharon's voice cracks and she steps backwards. She is breaking, breaking to pieces right in front of everyone. She starts shaking her head, her diamond drop earrings swinging wildly as she waves her hands in the air, as she implores her stepdaughter. "Gia...wait. Listen. Please just..."
"Just what? Listen to what?"
"Gia! I can't...I didn't know...."
"I told you!" Gia shrieks. She extricates herself from Cecilia, stands up, and walks forward until she is face to face with Sharon. "I told you! I showed you!" For each step that Gia takes forward, Sharon takes one back. The older woman is crying, her speech growing incoherent as sobs start ripping from her throat. "Your brother is a pervert, Sharon. He likes to have sex with teenage girls. Very young teenage girls. He's sick and instead of facing that, you covered for him. You protected him when you should have been protecting me, protecting Cecilia. You know what that makes you, don't you?"
"I don't...Please...just..."
"That makes you just as sick and perverted as he is!" Gia yells. The amount of rage in those words scares her, scares he so badly that she snaps her lips closed. She turns her back to her stepmother, turns her back and stands there, trying to snuff out this anger--trying to kill it because it feels like it might choke her to death if she doesn't. Behind her, Sharon is weeping. She reaches out, takes hold of Gia's wrist with sweaty, grasping fingers. The last thing Gia wants is to be touched by her, to give her anything that even resembles comfort. Cecilia is watching them in complete disbelief and just the sight before her, is enough to draw her onto her feet. Gia says, "Your mother needs you."
Cecilia takes a shuttering breath and nods. She walks over to them, pries her mother's hands off Gia, and says, "Mom, we need to go back to the
room. I'm sure that's where Daddy's gone." Sharon cries harder and Cecilia puts an arm around her mother's shoulder. "It's not
your fault, okay? I don't blame you...It's not your fault..."
Gia walks steadily away from them. The night has taken its toll on her appearance. Her red dress is wrinkled and champagne stains the hem. Her broach is
askew. Her makeup is streaked and smudged. Her curls have fallen flat against her head. She looks awful, but she can't bring herself to care. Stefan meets
her halfway. He takes off his jacket and slides it over her shoulders. She pulls the material tight over her torso, grateful--even though she isn't cold.
Her tears are dry, now, but she is still upset. He sees it in her eyes, in the tight way she frowns. He touches her cheek, very gingerly, a myriad of unasked
questions floating in the air between them.
All she says is, "It was a long time ago."
He nods his acceptance to this. "Is there anything you need?"
"Yeah...well, I want to go back to Las Vegas."
"Now?"
"Tonight. As soon as possible. I don't...I can't be here, anymore."
"It's a very long drive, Gia. Perhaps we should retire for the evening and then leave in the morning."
"No, it has to be tonight. I'll drive the whole way, if that's why you're worried. I just...I just want to <i>leave</i>."
She is exhausted and he knows that there is the very real possibility that she will end up turning them over in a ditch sometime in the wee hours of the
morning. He takes a deep breath. "Would it matter if I told you it was a bad idea?"
"Not in the least."
He sighs. "I didn't think it would."
She gives him a wan smile, adds, "Please?"
He pulls her even closer and places a kiss on her cheek. "If this is what you want."
"It is. I just need an hour, maybe two." She looks back over her shoulder. Cecilia is still trying to calm Sharon with soothing, banal words. Gia
shakes her head. "I can't leave Cecilia yet--especially not with Daddy MIA and Sharon falling apart."
He nods, asks, "Do you want me to stay?"
"No, I'll be fine. Just...don't go too far, okay?"
"I won't," he tells her.
10:15pm
"Hello?"
Stefan stands beneath the awning covering the main entrance of the hotel. He breathes in deep, pulls the night air down into his lungs before he replies, "David, it's Stefan. I need a favor."
"Name it," David says and Stefan doesn't need to be there to picture him, phone pressed to his ear, stalking through the hotel like a general on the march.
"I need all of the information you can gather on a man named Pace."
The rustle of papers bleeds over the line. "Last name Pace..."
"No, his first name is Pace. I don't know the surname. I know that he is the youngest brother of a woman named Sharon Campbell. Campbell is her married surname. Her husband's name is Charles and he is a prominent attorney in Southern California."
"This is all the information you have?"
"It isn't enough?"
David sighs. "It's barely anything..."
"It'll have to do."
"P-A-C-E?"
"That would seem correct, but I'm not entirely certain. You should try alternate spellings, as well."
There is silence. Then, David's voice sounds, clear and calm. "When do you need the information?"
"As soon as possible. This is a priority matter."
"I'll take care of it, Stefan," David assures him before he hangs up.
10:22pm
Gia doesn't remember everything about that day. She doesn't remember what Sharon made for breakfast. She doesn't remember the color of her father's tie. She doesn't remember what Pace said in that minute, that minute right before he leaned in to kiss her, his arm propped on the brace of the window arch. She doesn't remember why she didn't fight harder, why she didn't scream louder, why she didn't figure out a way to save herself.
The things she does remember--the feel of Pace's weight crushing her, the taste of blood in her mouth from where she bit her own tongue, Pace pulling his pants back on---only come to her in flashes, in a soundless slideshow of images, a rapid-fire barrage of sensations.
It is different for Cecilia. Every moment of the young woman's assault is archived and stored, cross-referenced and catalogued--ready for instant retrieval, instant replay, instant recitation. Gia does not envy her sister that, doesn't know how she would cope if that day were available for live feed twenty-four hours a day. Cecilia sits on the foot of the bed, her mother's sniffles still audible through the closed door of their adjoining rooms. Gia sits in the chair just beyond the dresser, wrapped in Stefan's jacket, staring listlessly at the floor.
"When it was over," Cecilia says, "I felt like I got exactly what I deserved."
"You did not deserve that," Gia stresses. "You didn't do anything wrong."
"Didn't I?" Cecilia stands, turns to her sister. "When Daddy accused you of lying, do you know were I was? I was hiding in that little cubbyhole at the top of the staircase. I didn't have the courage to stand up for you even though I knew, if the situations had been reversed, you would have backed me up. But, I just...I was terrified and when Mom said you were lying, I didn't know what to do. So, I hid, just like when Pace was...That's twice I could have saved you, Gia."
Gia's eyes brim with tears. "You were a little girl, Cecilia. None of it was your responsibility."
"Once you were banished, I took Uncle Pace back into my heart, Gia. I laughed at his jokes, accepted his Christmas presents...gave him hugs and kisses like nothing happened," Cecilia admits, her voice quivering in shame.
"Don't feel guilty. I'm sure Sharon encouraged it."
Cecilia flops back down on the bed and kicks her shoes off. She shakes her head, saying, "I knew better. I always knew better. And when...when I was fifteen, and it was finally my turn, I knew just what to expect. When he invited me to his summerhouse down in Newport, I knew it was coming. There was a voice in my head telling me that the way his fingers lingered over my arm, or the way he looked at me in my swimming suit, just wasn't right. And, I ignored that voice and walked willingly into the worst night of my life."
"Please, don't blame yourself, Cecilia. Please don't," Gia pleads. She slides from her chair down onto her knees in front of her sister. She takes the girl's hands into her own. "Don't you get it? If it's your fault, then it's my fault, too. I liked Pace. A lot. He was...attentive and handsome and I liked him. Down by the gazebo, when he kissed me, that wasn't the first time he'd kissed me. When he did what he did, I wasn't a virgin. So, was it my fault? Did I lead him on? Did I tease him? For the longest time I thought I had done all of those things, that it was all my fault. But, if there is anything time has brought to the situation, it's clarity. It wasn't my fault, just like it wasn't your fault. The blame rests solely on him. "
"I should have known better!"
"He's your uncle, for goodness sakes. Family. He is bigger than you are. Stronger. You said no and he did it anyway. He took advantage of you. You've got to see that. You've got to know that in your heart or the next few years are going to be hard for you, Cecilia. When someone special comes around and wants to love you, you could end up standing in your own way."
Cecilia shakes her head, her eyes narrowing into small slits. "There isn't going to be anyone, Gia. Not for me. Not...not ever. I couldn't stand to have...to let a man..."
"Oh, Sweetheart, please don't say that. Don't let Pace take that from you." Gia begins to cry again, because the injustice is overwhelming. She doesn't want to think that her sister may never let herself love or be loved the way she deserves. Gia clutches her hands. "It doesn't have to be that way."
"It does."
"So, you're not dating, at all?"
She shrugs, "I don't have time to date. I have to study. If I want to be a prosecutor, if I want to put the bad guys away, I have to study."
"What about Prom? Are you going?"
"I'm going with a very nice boy named, Jacob."
Something about the way her sister answers the question--the dispassionate tone of her voice--sends a shiver right down Gia's spine. "Do you want to go with him?"
"We have to go. It's like, an obligation. Besides, it's not as if he can ask his boyfriend to go. That would be awkward--and not just because
Randall's in college."
"What? His boyfriend?"
"Jacob's gay, Gia. We have an arrangement."
"I don't understand."
Cecilia looks at her sister with bright, guileless eyes. "Jacob's parents don't know he's gay. They think I'm his girlfriend."
"What about Daddy and Sharon?"
She nods. "It's mutually beneficial. Everyone thinks I'm Jacob's girl, including the other guys at school. They leave me alone. They
don't mess with me. It's the only way I can go to school and be safe."
"Oh, Cecilia..."
When Cecilia hears the pity in her sister's voice, she lowers her head. "You think it's pathetic, don't you?"
Gia climbs off her knees. She pulls Stefan's coat tighter around her shoulders, lost for a moment in the spiral of emotions coursing through her. Finally, she walks out into the middle of the hotel room. "I don't think it's pathetic."
Her head shoots up. "You don't?"
"After Pace raped me, I really did blame myself. I thought I was...I don't know...made wrong? I went out and made a lot of mistakes with a lot of different men. I let them use me, Cecilia. I was confused and hurt and I didn't like myself very much. So, I just decided to be what everyone thought I was anyway. That's how I coped. This...this thing with Jacob, this is how you cope. It's not for me to judge." Gia turns around to face her sister. "But, the time is going to come when you're going to have to stop coping with life and start living it."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
Gia exhales, wanders back over to the bed and sits down beside her sister. "You're still hiding, Cecilia. Like with the azalea bushes or the
cubbyhole at the top of the stairs. That's what I'm saying. You won't be able to hide behind Jacob forever. You're going to have to face these
boys, these men. You're going to have to learn how to deal with them. You might even want to date one, let a special one make love to you. That's
living your life."
Cecilia looks dazed, as if she could never imagine the things Gia is saying. Hesitantly, she asks, "Is that what you're doing? With Han, I mean.
He's different than...than those guys before him?"
The question catches Gia off guard and for a flash, the name doesn't even register. Her eyebrows knit together and she says, "Who?"
"Han. Your boyfriend."
Stefan. Gia's cheeks flush red and she mutters, "Oh, yeah, of course. Han. Well, Han is not my boyfriend, Cecilia. He's a friend."
"A friend?"
"Yes."
"So, then...you're not sleeping with him?"
She climbs to her feet, turns her back to Cecilia and walks to the dresser mirror. "I didn't say that. I am...I mean, yes, I'm sleeping with
him, but we're not serious or anything. We're, like, friends with benefits." Even as the words leave Gia's mouth, they seem wrong to her.
Friends with benefits? It makes them sound like a couple of stupid college kids. She gropes for another phrase, another set of words that will
alleviate the dull ache rising up in her chest. "It's a modern world. It's okay to...have sex with your friends sometimes."
"But how do you know, Gia?" Cecilia asks.
Gia places her hands flat on the top of the dresser and leans her weight there. She gazes at her reflection in the mirror, studies the puffy, red-rimmed eyes that stare back at her. "How do I know that it's okay to have sex with your friends?"
"No, how do you know he's really your friend in the first place? I'm afraid to trust my own instincts about boys. So, how did you get to the point where you could tell the wrong guys from the right ones? How did you know Han wasn't just using you for the benefits. How did you *know*?"
She can feel her sister's eyes at her back, expectant, waiting for the imparting of knowledge. She would laugh, except it isn't the least bit funny. Not funny, at all. If she answered these questions--she would look like a complete idiot. How did Gia get to the point where she could tell the wrong guys from the right ones? That has yet to happen. Didn't she think Lucien Cain was a Godsend? And didn't Lucien Cain end up being Stavros Cassadine--a defrosted sociopath? Didn't she think it was awesome to sleep with Zander Smith even though he was in love with Emily? And didn't he marry Emily five seconds later? If, in the last five years, she's been with five different men and only one of them wasn't using her to get through the night, does that mean she's enlightened? Does that mean she's overcome her issues? Does that mean she's changed anything, at all? Does that mean she's still the same needy, foolish, clueless girl she was in high school?
The self-introspection hurts, but she can't stop because there's one more question posed.
How does Gia know that Stefan's not using her for benefits? Or just to protect his own interests?
How does she know? How does she know? How does she know?
Gia pivots around, her eyes wide with a knowing fear. "Cecilia," she says, swallowing, "you can't know. You can't ever know what's
truly in someone's heart."
Gia looks at her sister, sees Cecilia's darkened, wizened eyes. They tell her that the girl believes her. They tell her that the fear is catching.
10:22pm
It doesn't take much effort to find Gia's father. For a twenty-dollar bill, a bellhop personally escorts Stefan down the long hallway to the hotel bar and holds the door for him. The interior reminds him of the Hilton, of the first night when he tracked Gia down and tried to bribe her. It is the same dim lighting, the same vinyl seats, the same stale smell of domestic beer and Margaritas.
Charles is sitting at the polished, black lacquer bar, stooped over a snifter of brandy. Stefan walks very purposefully through the tables. He hauls Charles off the barstool by his shirt collar, slamming him forcefully into the nearest wall. He plants his forearm against the man's windpipe and leans his weight there. His actions are so precise, so swift, that it looks as though the entire event could have been choreographed.
It takes a moment for Charles to emerge from his liquor-induced haze, to realize what has happened and who is responsible. He looks terrified, his eyes red-rimmed and glazed. Around them, the entire bar breaks out into noise and there is movement, although no one approaches them.
Stefan's voice pulses with anger, drops low and fierce like a snake about to strike as he growls, "The last time I had the chance to crush your trachea, your esophagus, your larynx--I didn't take it. I pulled my punch. I did that because you're Gia's father. Now, that I've seen exactly the kind of father you are, how poorly you've treated Gia, I'm beginning to regret that decision, Mr. Campbell. I'm beginning to wish I'd killed you just to spare her the sight of you abandoning her like the worthless coward you are."
Anguish is written on Charles' face. He has waded out into his misery, seemingly surrendered his resistance to the drowning. He chokes out, "I wish...I wish you would kill me...I can't face her. How can I face any of them?"
The moment where Stefan actually intends to break the man's neck passes. He is startled by the rage that has built up inside of him--not just on Gia's behalf, but on his own, as well. This man is nothing like Mikkos, but circumstances have made them essentially the same in Stefan's eyes.
Selfish. Useless. Blind. Weak.
Mikkos was weak...Stefan blanches at that thought. His father? Weak? Wasn't Mikkos the one who taught him what it was to be strong, to have power, to rule? Maybe he doesn't know what strength is because he realizes Mikkos never had any more strength of character than Charles, himself, can muster. Never more self-control than a maid with big breasts could sway. Never more fortitude than Helena could breach with cunning. Never more integrity than a vulture looking to pick off bones.
Stefan steps back and stares at the drunken, crumbling man in front of him. "You're worried about yourself? What about your daughters, your wife? What about the fact that you've harbored a rapist for ten years?"
Charles rights himself, rubs his neck as he honestly implores, "Everything's a mess. I don't know what to do! Bunny is like Florence...she's never...she's never going to forgive me for the Pace thing...."
"The Pace thing--," Stefan interrupts, putting as much antipathy into the phrasing as he can. "That's your designation for the horrible thing that happened to your daughter?"
"I didn't know," Charles offers by way of an explanation. "Pace said it didn't happen."
"What was it about Pace that made him more trustworthy than your own daughter?"
"You just don't know. Gia was difficult--difficult like her mother."
"Difficult. Oh, well, that absolves you of any guilt," Stefan snaps.
"Don't, Han. You just...you don't know, okay. Bunny hated Sharon. Pace is Sharon's brother. It seemed highly likely to me that she was just trying to stick it to Sharon."
"By crying rape? Is that how a child seeks revenge?" Stefan asks, his voice cold and angry. "I believe the truth of the matter is that you chose to disregard Gia's claims so that you could please your hideous shrew of a wife, so that you could maintain your wealth and your family reputation. That sickens me."
"I was wrong!" Charles admits, "Don't you think I know that? I let Sharon convince me. I let Pace convince me. I called my own daughter a liar, sent her away. I know. Don't you think I know?" He drops his head into his hands and cries.
Disgusted, Stefan says, "I'm going to kindly suggest you stop behaving as if you are some helpless little boy. You are a grown man. Stop making excuses. Stop pretending none of this is your fault. It is *all* your fault. It was your responsibility to protect your daughters and you failed on both counts. If you want to salvage your relationships, you have to scrape together some semblance of dignity and take care of your family. Cecilia needs you."
Charles hiccups, rubbing his forehead. "What about Gia?" he demands.
"If Gia needs anything, I'll see that she gets it," Stefan says before he turns on his heel and walks out the bar.
11:30PM
Gia sits on the bed, her suitcase thrown open in front of her. In her hand, she cradles the diamond broach, its lovely wide wings twinkling in the light like
tiny stars. She sighs, brokenhearted because she doesn't know how she can ever wear it again. It is the tangible symbol of her father's love for her
mother--but it was a love that didn't last between two people who hurt each other and the child they shared. She wishes she could think of it as nothing
more than jewelry, but that just is not possible. There is no way she can wear it and have it not remind her of her sister's confessions, of her father
turning his back and walking away. The broach, like so many other things, is lost to her, now.
She picks up a black velvet box from the nightstand and places the broach inside. She runs her fingers over the cool stones once more before she closes the
lid on the box and places it inside her suitcase. She wishes that this night were as easy to discard as the broach. Because of this night, she is filled with
a deep, abiding sadness--a sort of gray unhappiness that might never subside.
The bathroom door opens and Stefan emerges, clothed in a formidable charcoal gray suit and black shirt. He gives her a sideways glance as he crosses the room. He busies himself zipping his garment bag closed, depositing various toiletries in its side pockets. "Gia?" When she doesn't answer, he turns to her.
She sits there, her eyes dim from exhaustion, wondering what made her think coming here was a good idea. She raises her eyes to meet his. "Tonight sucked," she says.
He shrugs his shoulders.
"Let this be a lesson to you, Stefan. The next time I invite you anywhere, not only should you decline to go," Gia stresses, "but you should also insist that I don't go either, okay? Tie me up if you have to..."
Stefan's laugh--a low, seductive coil--sounds through the room. "Did you just give me permission to tie you up?"
Her eyes go wide at his implication and then, she's laughing, too.
11:39pm
Cecilia appears, her face scrubbed clean of tears, but not the sadness this night has brought. That has taken home in her eyes, in the way her smile peters out mere seconds after it graces her face. She steps from the elevator, wearing a plain white T-shirt and a pair of jeans with pink roses dotted in rhinestones and crystals down the left leg. Her blonde hair is tied back, her bangs secured from her face by half a dozen black bobby pins. Gia moves from the front desk, over to the bank of elevators to meet her. They stand in the exact same spot as earlier.
The truth is here, now, like a bridge between them.
Cecilia hugs her sister. "I don't want to lose you again, Gia," she whispers.
"I've got your number. You've got mine," Gia reminds her, smiling. "No one's losing anyone, okay?"
"Daddy wanted to come down, but I told him it wasn't a good idea. He's pretty drunk. Some guy from the hotel bar called Mom and made her come get him," she admits, shrugging her shoulders.
"Really?" That is something Gia hasn't seen since she was a very young girl. She remembers her father, stumbling into her room with the smell of liquor on his breath. He held her tightly in his arms as he wept uncontrollably. Her mother had to come in, had to pry Gia's small body from her father's arms. Charles left that night. That was the night he hopped a plane for California to hide out at his Aunt Poppy's vineyard in Napa. Gia is older, but Charles is still the same and that's just one more disappointment to add to the list.
"I'm sorry about Daddy," Cecilia says.
"Don't be sorry about anything, be happy...or at least try..." Gia steps back, hoisting her purse up on her shoulder. "So, I've gotta go..." She looks over her shoulder, catches a glimpse of Stefan through the large glass doors. He is outside--leaning against the car, fiddling with his cell phone. Gia turns away. "Cecilia..." she says, her voice urgent. She grabs her sister's wrist, pulling her over to the side and away from the small group of people waiting for the elevator. "Can I tell you something? Like confidential. You cannot tell anyone. Not Daddy, not Sharon. No one."
Cecilia's eyes widen and she nods. "I'm good at keeping secrets. You know that. What is it?"
Gia takes a deep breath and then blurts it out in a low, hissing voice. "Han...Han asked me to move in with him. And, his name's not Han. He uses that alias because he can't use his real name because his family thinks he's dead. In addition, I used to be engaged to his nephew, but now, I'm going to move in with him. And...I'm...I don't know what I am."
Pause. "His name's not Han?"
"No."
"You're moving in with him?"
"Yeah."
"I thought you said he wasn't your boyfriend."
"He's not...He wasn't...I think he might be."
"He's...old. Like Daddy."
"I know."
"Do you love him?"
"No."
Another pause. "Are you pregnant?"
"Absolutely not."
"Why are you moving in with him again?"
"Because he asked me to, because I have to...because we made an oral contract and as long as he fulfills his end, I have to fulfill mine."
"Huh?"
"When you get to law school, you'll take Contracts. You'll learn that oral contracts can be just as binding as legal ones."
"What does that have to do with anything?
"I'm not really sure...I know it all sounds ridiculous."
"Uh, Gia...I think it might *be* ridiculous. Weren't you lecturing me earlier, telling me not to keep making the same mistakes?"
"Yes."
"Is this another case of do as I say, not as I do?"
Gia nods her head vigorously. "Yes, it is."
"So, you're doing this, then? Moving in with Han...I mean, whatever his name is--"
"Yes."
Cecilia looks dizzy trying to piece together the puzzle that is Gia's personal life. Finally, she just smiles. "If I were your older sister, I would tell you that this is a huge mistake. It would have to be, right? Since he's so much older than you are? But, since I'm your little sister and it's not my job to police the police--I'm just going to wish you well, okay? If things don't work out and you need somewhere to stay, I'll just slip you into my dorm room. You can sleep on the floor."
There are tears in Gia's eyes.
"I love you, too," Cecilia says, solemn.
