by Cat Mann
Chapter 3
Evil Eye
It was half past six by the time I walked into our home from the garage. Earlier than I showed up most days – but very late for this day. I pulled the knot out of my tie as I walked into the kitchen. The refrigerator was open and the only thing visible from the person behind the stainless steel door was a pair of flip flop clad feet.
“Ava,” I began my apology, “I am so…”
The door closed to reveal my mother holding a watermelon.
“You aren’t my wife.”
“What gave it away, Ari? The fact that my arms are not covered in tattoos or that I’m not six months pregnant?”
My eyebrow lifted upwards and I opened my mouth, a dozen or so witty replies played at my lips.
“Never mind, don’t answer that!” she laughed.
“Where’s Ava?”
“She’s out by the pool alongside everyone else. You promised that girl you would be home early. We've all been waiting on you. Max has been begging for you!”
“I couldn’t get away in time. I tried. My assistant gave me her resignation notice today, she’s gone in two weeks and her notice threw everything off and then I was held up in this meeting for marketing. I couldn’t skip out on that meeting. They are trying to approve this image of Ava for the show, I really think they are using her to…”
“Fauna quit? My goodness, why?”
“Oh, um, this sounds bad but, I don’t know why she quit. She never really said.”
“Ava will be happy to hear it at any rate. She never cared for much for that girl…”
“Fauna's okay. I’m actually going to miss her, she does a lot for me. More than she probably should… Anyway, how mad is Ava that I am late?”
Her twisted grimace said it all. I was in trouble.
Turning away from her, I walked back to our bedroom and removed my watch, suit jacket and tie then pulled a velvety Harry Winston box from my pants pocket. I flipped the lid to inspect the simple and delicate diamond evil eye necklace I had had designed for Ava. Ava’s wedding ring rested on her dressing table. Her fingers had swollen up just enough within the past few weeks that her ring no longer fit her comfortably. Picking up the ring, I twirled it around my pinkie finger, thinking of the day she said yes, the happiest moment of my life. I strung her ring onto the chain of the new necklace, where it rested nicely against the circling rows of sparkly diamonds. After changing into a pair of shorts, I slipped the necklace and my cell phone into my pocket and headed to the deck.
Music streamed through the speakers and the evening summer sun was still warm in the sky. My dad and uncle manned the grill alongside Nick and Roar. My mother and my Aunt Gianna talked with one another at the long harvest table that was just large enough to seat all of us. Beside the pool, in a row of lounge chairs, sat Collin, August, Julia, Lauren and Luke. Lauren looked up and sent a little wave. As soon as August spotted me, he shot me a nasty look and angrily pushed his hot pink-streaked hair out of his eyes with his pinkie finger. Ava obviously had spent her afternoon complaining to him about me. Finally, my eyes rested on her.
She hadn’t noticed me yet and I smiled automatically as I watched her. She had on a bikini and had her hair piled up on top of her head. Her swollen baby belly was round, and shiny with oily sunscreen. Max sat in Ava’s lounge chair at her hip. He had a matchbox car and treated Ava’s stomach as if it were a mountain. He drove the car all the way up to her belly button and then let it fly down her stomach and crash in her lap. He laughed and clapped each time he let go of the car.
Max caught site of me after one of his car crashes. “Daddy’s home!”
Ava looked up at me and frowned. She helped Max out of the chair and he did that walk/run thing that kids do by swimming pools all the way to my open arms.
“Swim with me?” he begged.
“I have to talk with your mama first, Max.” He whined at my answer and pushed out of my arms.
“Papus!” Max billowed out a pouty cry for my dad, his Papus Andy, and my dad indulged him by turning the grill duty completely over to Thais and hopping into the pool so Max could swim some more.
I edged down to the pool deck and over to Ava. She didn’t even bother a second glance at me. I knew how badly I had messed up and I also knew that “I’m sorry” just wasn’t good enough but I had to start somewhere.
“Ava, I am so sorry.”
“Pfft.” She rolled her eyes and scoffed out a pissy puff of breath.
“Baby, please talk to me. Forgive me. I hate that I couldn’t get away from work earlier. There is no excuse for being late today, especially after I promised you I’d be home early. I only want to be with you. You know that. Please talk to me. I am so sorry.”
She finally looked up at me, but with a cold angry stare.
Despite her chilly demeanor, I cupped her cheek in my hand and brushed my thumb against Ava’s tan summer skin. “I’m here now. I am yours. I promise to be at your and Max’s side for the rest of the weekend. I am sorry, Ava. Truly I am.”
She nodded her head and her frown eased infinitesimally.
“Look, see…” I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and held it in my open palm. “Take my phone. I swear not to touch it or look at it. The phone is yours for the rest of the weekend. I won’t even think about work.”
Her bitterness thawed a tad and she spoke, “I can hold your cell phone hostage for four whole days?”
“Yes. I’ll forget I even own a phone if you promise to forgive me.”
“No calls in to the office?”
“Not one.”
“No important messages from your assistant that you can’t ignore?”
“I promise.”
Ava looked down at the cell in my outstretched palm and then back up at me. She chewed her lip in thought and in one quick movement, my phone was snatched away from me and shoved down deeply into Max’s toy bag.
“Does that mean you forgive me?”
“I guess so, yes. Don’t make any more promises you cannot keep.”
“I promi … Ok.”
I drew the necklace with Ava’s wedding ring attached out of my pocket. “I got this for you. I know I am a crazy, obsessive husband, but I hate that you can’t wear your wedding ring right now, it’s driving me insane. I want everyone to know you're mine and that I’m yours. I can’t stand the thought of you not wearing my ring. It’ll give you some protection, too. Keep the bad away. Will you please wear it for me?”
“Ari!” She shouted.
I couldn’t tell if she was happy about the gift or mad at me for buying something so expensive. I grimaced and waited for an additional response.
“Jeeze, you could have strung my ring from dental floss and I would have worn it. This is way too much.”
I held my breath.
“But, oh my, is it pretty...” She inched down to get a further inspection and gently stroked the circling rows of diamonds.
I freed the air from my lungs. “So you will wear it then?”
“I won’t take it off.” She leaned forward allowing me to clasp the necklace in place around her neck. The diamonds rested ever so gently against the very top of her chest.
“Thank you. My first evil eye. I love this so much, Ari. It’s perfect,” she whispered, and looked up at me to kiss my lips.
“Anything for you,” I whispered back. “The idea of an evil eye was actually something my dad came up with. I should have given you this a long time ago. Maybe an evil eye could have kept you safe when I couldn’t.” My eyes burned into hers and I thought of all the times I failed her. All the times I could not save her.
“We're safe now.” Ava’s thumb smoothed my creased brow and she gave me a reassuring smile.
“Mmmm.” My fingers edged along her long, scarred wrist.
“Let’s have fun tonight. Ok? Forget about all that.” She lightly bumped her shoulder with mine.
“Righ
t.”
We had been looking forward to a long holiday together at home with our family. This would be Ava's first Fourth of July weekend at the family compound in Dana Point. Just about everything we do around the holiday weekend, bedsides eating mounds of great food, involves water. Ava has a genuine but absurd fear of water. Humbly I take credit for having wielded my charm and persistence to get her into the ocean a handful of times. But each time I got her there, she suctioned herself onto me like a jellyfish, leaving me to peel her off as soon as we were back on shore. The only part of her that ever tries our pool is a big toe, and that has happened bloody rarely. She has no idea of how to swim, a fact that has bothered me because I love the water, but my worry had become much more serious with the arrival of Max. Soon, with a baby on the way, she would be responsible for two lives in and around our house by the sea. Three if you count her own.
“What name did you pick?”
Shit. She brought me back to reality and I had not yet thought of any baby names as I had also promised. Batting a thousand.
“Tell me your pick first,” I said, attempting to buy some time.
“Ok. I was supposed to come up with a boy’s name. What do you think about Dorian?”
“Dorian,” I said, “Dorian is, well, it's … ” The twisted, scrunched look on my face must have said it all.
“You hate it.” Ava’s excited smile slid down into a frown.
“It’s just … I don’t … love it.”
“Ok, let’s see if you can do better. Your turn.”
“Alright…” I hurriedly racked my brain for a name I could live with. I wanted to name the baby with a Greek name from our heritage and Ava agreed, so long as we could come up with something we both liked.
“You sure you don’t want to name her Ileana?”
“Ari, no!” she scolded me for the twenty-first time.
“Alright, alright. What about Athena?”
“Athena? She’s a goddess right?” Her nose crinkled a tad and I couldn’t resist rolling my eyes at her.
“Uh, yeah. Athena is one of the twelve Olympians. She’s uh, she’s pretty high up there, Ave.”
Ava nudged me with her elbow. “I dunno! I can’t keep it all straight. Who is she exactly?”
“The Athenians founded the Parthenon on the Acropolis, you know Athens, in her honor. She is the goddess of wisdom, courage and inspiration. Also, my mother is somehow related to descendants of Athena on her mother’s side. Athena and Aphrodite were sisters. So my mom would like die and go to heaven if we named our girl Athena. It would be a good name for our child. I think it is pretty.”
“Athena Alexander,” Ava’s lips puckered in a kind of pout as she said the name aloud. “I like the idea of naming our child after someone so important and great … just not Athena. Sorry, it’s a no for me. I want to hear a name and just have it click. I want to feel it.”
“Ok, I think I know exactly what you mean. We can try again later. Right now, all I can feel is hunger pains. I need food.”
An awesome display of crab legs, grilled swordfish kabobs and lobster salad was arranged on large platters lined up on the table. We dished up heaping platefuls of food, more food than even our large and hungry crew could possibly eat. Ava had her teeth centered over a savory kabob when Gianna warned her that mercury levels in some seafood can be harmful to an unborn baby. The morsel slipped from Ava's fingertips and slid back down onto her plate. A sad, pathetic little sulk replaced the hungry smile that had been on her face.
“Peanut butter sandwich?” I suggested and then stood from the table to make her a replacement meal.
“With bananas,” she moped. I felt kind of bad for my girl but the table held salads and fresh rolls and fruit bowls. There was plenty to eat, even though the main event would be peanut butter.
“You got it, babe.”
We ate and drank all evening at the crowded table on our deck, surrounded by family and close friends. The stories began. Storytelling is a time-honored tradition in my family. The same tales from our childhood and holidays are passed around each year, and each time they are told, the stories become funnier and more outrageous. Plates and silverware clattered and glasses shook as we pounded our fists on the tabletop and gasped for breath in between sidesplitting laughs.
“Aggie,” Ava began, “ tell me--what was Ari like as a child?”
“Ari?” My mother looked from Ava to me. “Ari was …”
“A monster!” Gianna chimed in before my mother could talk. “Better pray like hell that the baby is like you, Ava.”
“He wasn’t a monster!”
“He was, Ag, don’t try and deny it. That boy was a deviant. People thought he was raised by wolves. He was always fighting, always causing some kind of trouble. My boys learned all their swear words from Ari!”
“Who, Ari? Fighting?” Ava gawked and looked from the women to me and I gave a non-committal shrug of my shoulders.
“Let me explain.” Aggie shot Gianna a peeved look and then continued. “Ari was the littlest of the three boys and also the most driven. He was such a tiny guy and Nick and Rory were butterballs and spoiled absolutely rotten.”
“Pfft,” Gianna batted her eyes.
“And Ari was … determined to be the best at everything. He wanted to be the fastest, the strongest, the smartest, he wanted to be the winner of it all. Nick and Rory didn’t like that. The three of them have always been competitive with one another. They're all sore losers when they don’t win and ever boastful and arrogant when they do. They get that from their fathers.”
Gianna nodded a great big yes.
“Ari fought Rory daily, punching, headlocks, flying elbows to the stomach. I’d send poor Rory home with an icepack at least twice a week. But it wasn’t because Ari was some over-hyper monster child. He was just passionate, even then, and entirely focused on whatever goal was driving him at the moment. He was determined to succeed and when Ari gets an idea in his head, he doesn't back down. No matter what.”
Ava’s eyes bounced from my mother to me in thought.
“Let’s face it, Ava. He has you, this house, that job, Max and that little baby on the way. He’s only twenty. These things didn’t happen by happy accident. Well, not all of them anyway.” She gestured to Ava’s belly. “He knows what he wants and he gets it.”
“That’s not such a bad quality.”
“No, it’s not. Don’t let Gianna scare you. Ari was way better behaved than those two round hams she raised. Ari is just different from them that’s all.”
“Why are the three boys so different, then? If they are the same, you know from the same deity?”
“What?” My mother blinked in shock and gaped at Ava as if she had just said the stupidest thing in the world.
“They aren’t from Adonis?”
“Only Ari.” Aggie’s tone was questioning, as if Ava should have known better, and she would have known better if I ever talked about who I was, who I am, but I won’t.
Ava knitted her brow and she looked to me for clarity.
My parents both stared at me, disbelieving.
“I never really explained it to her. Ava, Nick and Roar got their mother’s traits, I have my father’s. It is only me and well him,” I pointed over to my dad, “only we are from Adonis. But it doesn’t matter, right?” I spoke fast and stood from the table, busying myself by gathering dirty dishes and refilling wine glasses. I changed the subject by asking for everyone’s input on the baby name, a topic I knew would consume the rest of the evening’s conversation and I knew it would keep Ava’s mind busy. Deities were forgotten about and soon after the evening came to a close.
Ava and I bade farewell to various members of our family, with hugs and kisses given numerous times. Finally, I trailed into the house behind her with Max on my hip. She turned towards our bedroom to clean up after a day in the sun and I drew Max a bath.
; When Max first entered our lives last winter, he was quite reserved and very quiet. He had lost the only life he knew and the grandma who was raising him. Those losses took a toll. Now, several months later and settled in, while still a well-behaved child, eager to listen and learn, he likes his bit of mischief. One of his favorite games is tag and he especially enjoys the game straight out of the bath. As soon as Max’s feet hit the ground from out of the tub, he takes off in a dead sprint. He laughs and runs all throughout our home and Ava and I do our best at catching and clothing him. I have seen my wife hurdle the couch in an attempt to grab him and pin him down. No more of that for a while, though, as her pregnancy slowed her down and kept her playing it safe.
I washed sunscreen from Max’s skin, rinsed the chlorine from his hair and cleaned his seemingly always smudged and dirty feet. I began to drain the bathwater and Max’s smile crept onto his face and grew larger and larger with every passing second. Grabbing a towel, I wrapped him up and patted him down. He cooperated with me as I dried him off, but I knew his cooperation was only a part of his ploy.
He waited for me to run the towel vigorously through his messy, waterlogged hair and as soon as it was dry enough, he made his escape and dashed through the bathroom and out the door, his little giggles ringing throughout the house.
“Oh, man!” He hollered only a moment later.
“I tricked you!” Ava laughed from the hallway. I exited the bathroom in time to see her pinning him down and pulling on his favorite sleep clothes. Max sulked over his quick defeat for only a few minutes then settled down for a story in his room.
Ava, a Québécoise for thirteen years, speaks French as often as she can and has hopes of teaching Max the language. Story time in our house is normally in French unless I am the one reading because in all honesty, I haven't taken the time to truly learn the language. I can sort of ‘get by’ and I do understand some of what Ava and August babble on about. I know some of the more common phrases but I can’t hold down a long conversation without guidance. Max hasn’t yet picked up the language, in fact, he still has a difficult enough time with any form of speech. He doesn’t talk much at all, and when he does, his speech is very rarely in complete sentences. He has a slight impediment – “girl” is “gull,” “love” is “wov,” “that” is “dat” and so on. He tries to rely on hand gestures and can often be seen tugging on either Ava’s or my clothing and then pointing at whatever it is he wants. I indulge him.
The kid is smart. His mind is a mechanical wonder. At three years old, he can take apart any toy in the house and put it back together. He will sit on the rug for hours on end building huge and intricate structures from Legos or blocks. Ava bought him a wooden three-dimensional puzzle that was intended to be a brainteaser for adults and he solved it in less than ten minutes. I had him do it again just to be sure it wasn’t some kind of beginner's luck. He solved the puzzle the second time in less than three minutes. He grew tired of the toy rather quickly and now, the wooden blocks sit in a pile on my desk at work and I’ve yet to figure out how to put it back together. As smart as he is, and as much as he enjoys being read to, I know the words are in him, he is just too preoccupied with other things to care to use them. Ava frets over his speech and I hear “use your words” more times in a day than I really care to hear.
Ava finished the story and planted a kiss to Max’s sleeping lips. “Good night, sweet boy. We love you.” I flipped off his bedroom light and closed his door.
“You know what?” I turned to her and took her hand as we walked down the hallway of our rambling home.
“What?” The sound of Ava’s voice, so soft and sweet, always makes my heart thump a little louder.
“We are all alone now.” Ava’s eyes flashed up to mine and she tugged on my hand and ran towards our bedroom with a flirty laugh.
