I grabbed the white bag from him. “Did you remember fries?”
“Yes, princess. Though why you order fries and an egg sandwich when Twin’s makes the best burger in town is beyond me.”
“Twin’s is the best burger within walking distance. Judice Inn is the best burger in town. We’ve been over this,” I teased. “And sometimes I just want a fried egg sandwich.”
The store was empty, so Ed and I stood at the counter, debating the merits of burgers and fried egg sandwiches while consuming each.
My phone buzzed on the counter, and I moved to get it.
Cole.
I smiled, but a flash of movement drew my eye back to Ed.
“Did you just steal a fry?”
Feigning innocence, Ed shook his head and chewed. “Your phone’s ringing,” he said, nodding to the device in my hand.
“I know.” I swiped the bottom of the screen and lifted it to my ear. “But I’m watching you. Hey, ba—”
“Something’s wrong.” The tension in his voice cinched my shoulders.
“What? What’s the mat—”
“Ava’s gone.”
I was aware of Ed’s alert stillness as I turned and moved to the back room, lowering my voice. “Well, maybe she felt well enough to go to a class or a meeting. I’m sure—”
“No, I mean, her car’s here. And her phone. But she’s just gone.”
My muscles uncoiled. Without her car and her phone, she couldn’t have gotten very far. “Maybe she just went for a walk?”
“No.” It sounded like he grunted through gritted teeth. “The last app she opened on her phone was Uber. Elise, it showed she ordered a ride last night around eleven. Just after I went to bed.”
Oh shit.
“Y-you think she’s been gone all night?”
“What else am I supposed to think?!” His words were clipped, angry. But even as they set my heart racing, I knew that behind his anger was the fear he didn’t know how to face. I wanted to soothe him.
“Cole—”
“How could I be so stupid to fall for her tricks again? A pulled muscle? Really?” he spat. “That’s probably her weakest story yet. And I bought it.”
I shook my head. “But you didn’t. You doubted. You questioned. Your gut told you something wasn’t right.”
I braced myself for the inevitable. To hear him say spending time with me had kept him from watching her.
“But leaving her phone behind…” The anger leached from his voice until all I heard was pain. “She’d agreed to let me track her, and she left her phone and her car so I’d think she was home. Elise, how many times has she done something like this since we’ve been back?”
I shut my eyes. “What does the app say? Where did she go last night?”
“The destination address was 500 Jefferson. That’s Jefferson Street Pub.” Defeat weighed down each of his words. “I’ve already called. They’re closed on Mondays.”
“Oh, Jesus.”
“Yeah, so she’s either with someone, or…”
Or.
My mind raced ahead of all the possible ors. Nothing I could imagine was anything I’d want for Ava. What if she’d intended to come home before Cole knew she was missing? Before he found out she’d even left? I kept those questions to myself.
“What can I do?” I asked.
Cole sighed. “I can’t wait around for her to just come back. Or worse. I have to look for her.”
“I’ll come with you,” I blurted. Ed would understand. Besides, I almost never took time off.
“No, no. That’s not why I called,” he said, his voice softening around the edges. And now I heard his vulnerability, his weariness. It made me want to rush to him. “I just wanted to tell you what’s going on and… just talk to you.”
The ache in his voice clutched at my heart. “Let me come with you. Let me help.”
“No. I’m going to head downtown. Jefferson Street Pub is closed, but Marley’s is open, and some of the other bars will open in a few hours. Someone might have seen her.” He sighed again. “That night we went to the gallery, it surprised me how many vagrants there were downtown. It wasn’t like that before.”
“Yeah, it’s changed a lot the last few years,” I said, wincing. Downtown after dark was not the best place for a single woman without a car or a phone.
“I’m thinking maybe one of them saw her too. I don’t know where that’ll lead, but I don’t want you coming with me.”
“But you shouldn’t have to go by yourself—”
“I’m used to it,” he said grimly. “Besides, it’ll be a lot tamer than the Quarter.”
I couldn’t argue with that. But I could still argue with Cole. I had years of experience. “I don’t just want to sit around and wait to hear from you.”
I might have heard a choked chuckle at my objection. “Of course you don’t,” he muttered. “Look, I might be a while, but if you want to come over to the house after work, that actually would help. Ava might still think she’s getting away with something. She might think she has until six o’clock tonight when I usually get home. You could come here and—”
“I could come now.”
“Don’t come now.” His tone left me no room. “You’re working. And Ava isn’t your problem. She’s my problem. I have to deal with this.”
“But Cole—”
He talked right over me. “I’ll leave a key for you in the mailbox. And I’ll be in touch. I promise,” he vowed. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I really hope I get to see you tonight.”
“I do, too,” I managed, but there was so much more I needed to say.
“Bye, babe.” And then he was gone.
I stood there in the workroom staring at my phone. For the second time in my life, Cole had just asked me to do nothing but wait while he tried to save his family.
“Well, fuck that.”
I knew Cole was headed downtown, bent on interrogating anyone who might have seen Ava last night. I could find him and insist on joining him, or I could look for Ava on my own. I left the store without knowing where to start, but I couldn’t sit still.
Maybe I could just drive, covering the downtown area in ever diminishing circles. The thought alone made me dizzy, but if Ava were roaming on foot, I might spot her. The plan, though weak, was better than nothing. At least, I thought so until I crossed the intersection of Johnston Street and South College and blew past The Yoga Garden.
The Yoga Garden. Ava’s yoga studio.
I turned onto Twin Oaks, quickly made a U-turn, and pulled into the gravel drive of the rambling, pale blue house that had been converted to a business. I’d never been inside, but it was one of those places that looked inviting. Peaceful.
I parked in front and climbed the steps of the slate-gray porch. A tinkling of bells announced my entrance, and as I stepped over the threshold, I found myself in a bright, welcoming space with tonal music rising from hidden speakers. One side of the room looked like a tea shop with a couple of mismatched tables and chairs. The other was a little boutique that featured shelves of teapots and mugs alongside apparel models wearing yoga tops and tights. This front room stood empty, but from the back of the house, I could hear a muffled voice and a sound like wind or water rushing.
It was breath. The sound of perhaps a dozen people sighing. A yoga class. The sounds, the clean, tranquil space, the cheerful colors, everything about the place had me breathing deeper than I had all day. I could see why Ava had been drawn here — if, in fact, she’d been telling the truth about coming.
I hoped to God she had. I knew a simple, innocent explanation was probably too much to ask for, but I sent up a silent prayer for it anyway. The last thing she needed was to relapse. And if she had, I hated to think what it would do to Cole.
If I were being honest, I feared that most of all.
“May I help you?”
Tugged from my thoughts, I turned to see a woman about my age approaching from the rear of the old hou
se. She wore, no surprise, a white Yoga Garden tank, and light purple tights. Her chestnut hair was piled high on her head in a messy bun.
I swallowed. Now that I was in a position to ask questions, I had no idea where to start. Telling this woman that my friend was missing seemed way too weird.
“I-I was wondering if you could help me,” I stammered. I looked around as if the rolled yoga mats and cheery tea mugs could offer any assistance. “Um… do you have Sunday morning classes?”
The woman’s smile was both immediate and serene. “We do. We have an Easy Like Sunday Morning class from ten to eleven.” Moving with fluid grace, she crossed the counter and plucked a card from a tidy stack. “Here’s our regular schedule. We also have a Yin Yoga class on Sunday afternoons from 4:15 to 5:15.”
I took the card from her and passed my eye over it without seeing the words. A ten a.m. class would have let out long before our one o’clock lunch with Mama. I bit my bottom lip.
“You don’t have anything else on Sundays?”
The girl gave me a slight frown, a little crease appearing between her winged brows. “Well, not on the regular schedule. We do have a Yoga for Trauma Intensive workshop one Sunday a month, but you have to sign up in advan—”
The hairs on the back of my neck lifted. “I-I’m sorry,” I blurted. “Did you say Yoga for Trauma?”
She dipped her chin in a quick nod. “It’s a really powerful program,” she said, her voice both gentle and serious. “We use yoga and breath and mediation to do some intense work with the subconscious. It can be very healing.”
“Wh-when is your next class?”
Her expression became apologetic. “Oh, we had one yesterday, so it won’t be for another mon—”
“Oh, my God.” I clenched my hands into fists, the certainty in my gut almost unbearable. “I-I think my friend was talking about that class. D-do you know if she’s taken that one? Ava Whitehurst?”
A startled smile lit up her features. “You know Ava? Wow, she’s become one of our regulars. Yeah, she was in yesterday’s class.” Then her frown returned. “But she had to leave halfway through. She said she wasn’t feeling well. Do you know if she’s okay?”
My mouth fell open, and I no doubt looked like a goldfish as it worked silently. “I… I don’t know. I haven’t seen her.”
She pressed her lips together with an air of regret. “I was hoping she’d be in this morning’s Ashtanga Short Form, but I guess she’s still under the weather. If you see her, tell her I hope she’s doing better.”
I managed a nod. “I will.”
This seemed to please her because she smiled at me again. “Did you want to sign up for our next Yoga for Trauma class? It won’t be for another month, but there’s plenty of spots open.”
“Oh… I-I… I’ll just take the class schedule?” I floundered, waving the card she’d given me. “You know, to see what classes might work for me?”
Thanking her, I dashed out of there as fast as I could, pulling my phone out of my purse before I was even outside.
Cole’s number went straight to voicemail. “Hey, it’s me. Call me back. It’s about Ava.”
I hung up, fretted over my message, and called him again. “Me again. Sorry. I don’t know where she is or anything, but I… I guess… I mean, maybe I just learned something,” I blathered. “Sorry. Sorry. Just call me back.”
I hung up, wincing. Did what I’d just learned even matter? It might not help to find her, but Ava clearly hadn’t lied about going to yoga yesterday. And something had obviously happened to upset her. I understood why she’d signed up to take a class to heal trauma, but could it have been more than she could handle?
Ava, I knew, had witnessed and endured far too much trauma.
And she was fragile. Her sobriety was fragile. I felt a pang in my chest at the thought of what she must have been feeling yesterday. How badly she must have been hurting to go off the rails.
I started the car, headed north on Johnston Street, and just drove. We had to find her.
Clearly, she wasn’t ready to face her life sober. I remembered how Cole had describe the day she’d OD’d. When he thought she’d died. If he’d lost her then, it would have destroyed him.
If he lost her now, it still would. I knew this. And Cole knew it too.
The shadow of inevitability that had hovered like a cloak just out of sight began to drift down over me. I knew it. I’d known it all along.
Cole was not mine to keep. He might never be.
Hadn’t I known this forever? Certainly since that awful morning when he’d left me standing in his driveway. I’d probably known it before. On that night I’d wanted to claim him. I may have even known before I’d let myself understand that I’d wanted him.
He had, and he always would put his family — Ava, now — ahead of himself. His life, his wishes, his heart were forfeit to her wellbeing. Since they were kids. This was his identity. He had to be her hero.
And heroes had to make sacrifices.
This time would be no different from last. Cole had practically come out and said that the days he’d spent with me had taken his focus away from Ava. This lapse was proof she needed his complete attention.
I knew he wouldn’t want to let me go, but he’d do it. He’d have no choice.
As I drove blindly, I swallowed against tears. Sadness rose in me like flood waters, but as I searched its the depths, I found no bitterness. I couldn’t begrudge Cole his love for his sister. His allegiance to her, his protection of her. It was what I’d first admired about him.
And I couldn’t resent Ava’s need of him. She didn’t deserve the life she’d been given. Neither of them did.
It just hurt. It hurt in a way I knew would never stop.
He would say goodbye to me. Oh, it may not sound like a goodbye. He might simply ask for time. For space. But it would be a goodbye all the same. Because he would never be free.
I knew I could lie to myself. It would be easy. I could wait for him, tell myself he’d be free to love me — free to be with me — once she was better. Another year? Another three years? But who would I be if I did that? If I abandoned myself that way.
Panic rose in my throat.
I couldn’t. Even though I loved him — and I loved Cole Whitehurst like he was the flipside of my soul. But I couldn’t tell myself to wait for a day that might never come. If no one else was going to show up for me — chose me — I needed to choose myself.
As I drove, barely holding it together, I promised myself I’d make the job ahead easy for him. Cole’s life had been hard enough. It would be hard enough for him to step away. Making it easy would be the greatest act of love I could show him.
And then I’d love him in silence for the rest of my life.
But, right now, I needed to look for Ava. She was out there, and I could only imagine that, sober or not, she probably felt awful. She probably felt defeated. She’d need a friend, and I wanted to be there for her.
Besides, the alternative was to go home, climb into bed, and wait for Cole’s inevitable call. And I shrunk from that. There would be plenty of time later to feel sorry for myself. To feel, keenly, the loss of him.
The light at Johnston and University turned red, and I found myself in front of Gerard Hall on the northwest corner of campus. It was mid-May, so the semester was over, but a few students still strolled along the sidewalks.
Even on foot, campus wasn’t far from downtown. On impulse, I decided to turn right when the light turned green. If I had found myself stranded downtown, strung out, and without a phone, campus would probably seem like safe territory to stay the night.
Of course, night had long since passed, but I didn’t have a better idea, so I turned onto Hebrard Boulevard and drove at a lazy ten miles an hour, scanning the hedges and covered walkways as I did.
“This is stupid,” I said aloud after turning left in front of the library. No matter what, Ava wouldn’t still be here. Not at midday. She had to have gone hom
e with a friend or hooked up with someone. That logic made the most sense. Which meant I wasn’t going to find her combing the side streets of campus.
I passed the Bulldog, and I had the distinct urge to go inside and order a beer. Or five. I’d never done anything like that. Gone into a bar in the middle of the day and ordered a drink. But now seemed like the perfect time to try it.
But who was I kidding? I was actually going to sit at college bar? At noon? Talk about feeling sorry for myself.
“You’re not that pathetic,” I reasoned.
And before I could argue with myself about just how pathetic I might be, my phone rang.
Mama.
At the sight of her name, the tears I’d fought blurred my vision. I pulled over in front of Hamilton Hall. Mama often called me during my lunch break if we weren’t getting together. A crux of emotions kept me frozen. I wanted to talk to her and seek her comfort. I wanted to tell her how everything had gone wrong overnight. But I knew it would break her heart almost as much as it was breaking mine.
I sighed, wiped my eyes, and stared at the buzzing phone until the call went to voicemail.
But at once it started up again, ringing with her name on the screen. I frowned, sniffled, and answered.
“Hey, Mama,” I said, trying to sound as normal as I could.
“Elise, baby,” Mama hissed, sounding panicked. “I need you. Ava’s here at the cafe, and she’s in a bad way.”
Chapter 31
COLE
“Y-you saw her last night?” I shook my phone bearing Ava’s picture. It felt like a fist was squeezing my heart.
The manager of Marley’s Sports Bar shot me a look of annoyance. “Yeah, I saw her last night. Practically had to drag her out the door.”
“Why?”
Doom seemed to darken the bar, even with the glow of a dozen TV screens. I’d spent half an hour driving the streets of downtown looking for my sister. I’d stopped in Parc San Souci and Parc Internationale. The junkies there were of no help. This was the first trace of her, and it didn’t bode well. “Was she drunk already?”
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