The Guidance - By Marley Gibson Page 0,86

black-lined eyes; silent sobs rack her as she tries to stop the emotional overdrive churning through her system, which I sense as well. Charcoal eyeliner and mascara traces gush down her pale white cheeks, leaving tracks of sorrow in their wake.

She wipes at her face with the back of her hand, making everything worse. I pull a Kleenex from my pocket and gently dab her face.

"Talk to me, Becca."

She gulps for air, struggling to get out the words. "Gr-gr-gr-granny Gama was my—"

"Grandmother," I finish, already knowing the answer.

"When I was a little girl, my daddy wanted me to say, 'Hi, Granmama,' but it came out as Granny Gama. It stuck."

I smooth out the smear under her left eye. "I think that's sweet."

"Sh-sh-she was the world to me." Her hands fly up to cover her face, and her crying increases. "It's all my fault."

"What's your fault?"

A whispery image of a tiny woman slowly materializes in front of me. Her hair is dark and pulled up in a bun. Wrinkles smudge around her eyes and stretch over her cheeks. Her eyes are the same as Becca's. A fiery twinge clutches at my heart. Definitely experiencing some coronary probs here. No doubt about it, since I've had it before with other spirits. Regardless, I pull my fist against my chest as if the sensation is overcoming me for real.

"Granny Gama had a massive heart attack. It took her before she even hit the ground," I say.

Becca lowers herself to the floor and puts her knees to her chest. Her tears have subsided some, but the emotional slash is still there.

"Please tell me what was your fault."

She blinks. "I'm responsible for her death."

"What?"

"No, child," her granny says.

"After my mother left, when I was five years old, Granny Gama raised me. Dad worked all the time—still does—and she was the one who cooked and cleaned and got me to school. She's the one who enrolled me in tap, ballet, gymnastics, and baton. She paid for all of it with her Social Security check because she knew I was obsessed with beauty pageants." She sniffs hard and wipes her nose with her hand. "Granny was at every single pageant. Front row, center, cheering me on." Becca gestures to her trophy cases. "She had these shelves made specially. And we celebrated each award and crown as I won them. I knew I was going to grow up to be Miss Georgia and then Miss USA or Miss America. I was that determined."

"So what happened?" I ask.

"Same thing that happens with any obsession. It became my life, to the detriment of everything else. Granny told me I was getting too big for my britches and that I didn't think my shit smelled." She stops and laughs sarcastically. "Well, she was right. I was gorgeous and I didn't mind flaunting it. I had such an attitude. I mean, I look back and I can see where people might think it was simply confidence in my abilities. It was more than that, though. Soon, I was out practicing more hours than I spent at home. I took every dance class I could. I worked hip-hop and aerobic moves into my routine. More, more, more. It wasn't enough."

"Becca," I say, trying to get her to focus. "How is Granny Gama's death your fault?"

She takes a staggered breath. "B-b-b-because for all she did for me, I couldn't do one thing for her."

"Stop, precious," her granny says. "Don't let her go on."

"She has to go on," I say. "This has obviously festered for too long." To the point that the multitalented beauty queen Rebecca Asiaf had turned into a Goth girl named Bulldozer Becca to remake the image she had of herself.

Becca buries her dark head into her folded arms. "I killed her."

"How?"

"It was the day before a pageant and she was finishing up an outfit for me. She could sew sequins and pearls and fringe like a pro. She asked me to pick something up for her. No big deal. Just a quick errand. I didn't do it, though. I was so caught up in myself and winning the next crown, practicing longer hours, that the store closed before I could go. So what, I'd get what she needed tomorrow." Becca looks up at me. "There was no tomorrow for her."

"What happened?"

"Granny was in the kitchen making dinner for Daddy and me when she had a heart attack. I got home just when it was happening. I rushed to her and held