by Lindy Zart
“Avery.”
I look up from the contract between Sanders and Sisters and the makeup company with which I used parts of my mom’s words to cement a deal. Mike looks at me with quizzical blue eyes, his shirt misbuttoned and one side of his hair sticking up while the rest is smoothed down. He reminds me of an absentminded genius scientist, which is pretty spot on. He talks about things I can’t even guess at involving space and time and alternate worlds. He’s also good with numbers and oversees our account financing and planning, with help from Duke when needed.
Being the owner and main operator, Duke knows all the roles in the agency, delegating duties as he sees fit.
“What are you doing out here?”
I shrug and look around the gray-and-brown-toned room with flourishing green plants and lots of natural light from the many windows. “Just looking over some papers.”
“It’s the reception area,” Mike states in case I forgot.
Anne glares at me from her spot behind the desk, one hand on her cell phone. “She’s been out here all morning, and frankly, it’s distracting me from my work.”
“You’re working?” I widen my eyes. “Wow. I’m so sorry. I thought you were on Facebook.”
Her phone dings that she has a notification at the exact same time Anne says she isn’t on Facebook. She gives me a look and shoves her phone into a desk drawer, snapping it shut. Anne yanks the telephone from the receiver, muttering, “I’m ordering lunch.”
“Duke gave you the keys to your new office, right?” Mike asks.
I sit up straighter, eyes on the now closed folder on my lap. “Mm-hmm.”
“You know you can use it…right?”
It feels as if Duke gave me the office more because I’m his daughter than because of any talent. That isn’t what I want.
What do you want? a voice in my mind asks. It sounds like Ben.
You, I silently answer.
“It’s Ben’s,” I say softly to Mike.
“Ben’s gone.”
My eyes fly to Mike’s. “Not gone-gone, right? Just gone from here?”
“Right.” Mike tilts his head, scrutinizing me. “He no longer works here.”
I set a hand to my pounding heart. “Oh. Okay. Right. Good.”
“Are you okay?” Mike asks.
“Yeah. No. I’m not sure.” I shake my head. I feel weird, out of place, almost numb. I made a choice; I have to stick with it. I’m choosing my dad. Leaving with Ben would be taking a chance I can’t afford. My mom chose me over Duke; I’m choosing family over love as well. Another voice insists: But was she glad she made that choice? Was it the right one?
I look out the nearest window, watching as vehicles speed by.
Why can’t I have both?
“If you need to talk…” Mike waits.
“Oh, my God,” Anne mutters. “If I wanted office drama, I’d watch TV.”
“Anne, shut up.” I jump to my feet and stride from the waiting room.
Anne snorts. “What’s her problem?”
“Anne, shut up,” Mike answers.
I walk down the hallway of framed magazine articles regaling the many successes of Sanders and Sisters. It shows an impressive line of business savviness that made Sanders and Sisters a well-known name, along with Duke Renner. I stop at the door that leads to my new office, pausing with my hand on the doorknob. I step into the room with snowy white walls, feeling Ben’s presence.
It’s bare of his baseball stuff. The family picture of Ben with his parents and sister is gone as well. I walk to the center of the room with its lone window, high and small behind the desk, and close my eyes. I breathe in, smelling the lingering scent I associate with Ben—fresh soap and man—and I walk briskly to the desk, setting down the folder and taking a seat in the chair.
A rectangular box wrapped in gold foil with a folded piece of white paper beside it greets me, resting perfectly centered on the desk. With fingers that tremble, and dread and anticipation in my heart, I open up the paper. A single sentence takes up the space with bold, black ink.
To the woman I got lost with in order to find myself: live like you never know what’s going to happen next—because you don’t.
The paper drops from my fingers, confusion and questions putting a wrinkle in my forehead.
Hands shaking, I move for the gold-wrapped item.
A firm knock sounds on the door a second before it opens, revealing my father. I set my trembling hands in my lap. Dressed in a navy-blue suit with a gold tie, he beams at me. “Avery! Just the woman I was looking for. Have lunch with me and a representative from Applebee Coffee?”
“Why?”
Duke blinks at the inquiry. I am not normally one to question anything. “Because we want them to use us for their new advertisement and I request it of you.”
“That’s fine. I just want to know, why me?”
He looks behind him before stepping into the room. Duke closes the door and stares me down with his icy-blue eyes. “I don’t understand what you’re asking.”
I stand on legs that shake and steady myself by gripping the back of the chair. Ben’s parting words the night of the party have been turning around over and over in my head. Remember who you are. I am not weak. I am not timid. I am not a pushover. I am strong. I take a deep breath. “Carrie could go, or Bob or Nate. Why do you want me to go?”
“Because you’re part of my creative team.”
“I’m not the only one,” I press. “Why me, specifically?”
“Because you’re my daughter.”
The answer hits me hard, and I take another breath around the sting. “Then the answer is no.”
His eyes narrow. “You didn’t let me finish.”
Mouth dry, I wait.
“But even if you weren’t, I’d still want you there. You’re beautiful, smart, and charismatic. People naturally gravitate toward you. You have flare, Avery, and you get things done. You make an excellent figurehead for Sanders and Sisters. I want you to be the official face of the organization, and one day, many years in the future, I want you to take it over. When people think of Sanders and Sisters, they’ll envision you.”
“That…sounds like a lot of power.” Duke’s words are flattering, but they don’t wow me like they would have in the past. His vision is not my vision.
“Yes.” His eyes gleam. “It does.”
“I don’t need that.”
Duke steps farther into the room, turning his focus to the cufflinks of his suit jacket. “You might, in time.”
“What does that mean?”
His voice is low when he says, “Life disappoints. Sometimes all we have to keep us going is our work.”
The words come out before I can halt them, frank and accusing. “You could have fought harder to keep her.”
Pain, faint and brief, sweeps across Duke’s face. “I could have, but I didn’t.”
I think of my mom, how she worked hard to make every day wonderful, but always also carried that hint of sadness. I thought it was for me, but now I see that it was for Duke—or maybe it was for all of us. My dad carries it as well. Is that what I want, to live with regret for a person I too easily let go?
“Ben didn’t see any of that,” I choke out.
He lifts his gaze to me, one dark eyebrow cocked. “Any of what?”
“He didn’t see me as some kind of—of trophy, something nice to look at, but that’s about all its worth.”
Anger flashes across his face. “I’m not saying that at all. You misinterpret my words.”
“I don’t know what you want from me,” I whisper. The hollowness inside stems from that feeling of worthlessness. My mom knew. She knew Duke is the kind of person who has an insatiable drive always pushing them forward. She tried to warn me. “I think you want me to be something I’m not.”
“That’s not true,” Duke cuts in.
“I’m not like Cecily. She wasn’t afraid of anything, and she wasn’t afraid to be herself.” Tears burn my
eyes. “I’m afraid all the time.”
Duke studies me, cool and efficient. “Take the rest of the week off, Avery. You’re not ready to come back.”
I look into my dad’s eyes and speak my biggest fear. “You’re disappointed in me.”
“I’m not—” Duke lowers his voice with his next words. “I am not disappointed in you. I could never be disappointed in you. Go home, get some rest. Come back next Monday if you feel up to it.”
“And if I don’t?” I feel torn in separate directions, and once again, I know what it is to feel like my life is not my own.
Duke runs a hand over his face, looking tired and older than his years. “Go home, Avery.”
I snatch Ben’s note from the drawer, take the unopened item in the gold wrapping paper, and hurry past my dad, flinging open the door to multiple faces hovering in doorways. I stop, looking from Carrie to Nate to Juan to Bob.
“We were…” Nate ducks back into his office and slams his door, and the others follow sheepishly.
I shake my head and grab my jacket and purse from the closet, not bothering to tell Anne goodbye. Her eyes are glued to something in her lap, and I’m betting it’s her cell phone.
It’s a mile walk to my place; something I would never consider before our team-building excursion. Too much work, and I’d ruin my hair and makeup. Without hesitating, I turn in the right direction and go, looking straight ahead, tuning out the sights and sounds around me.
I thought it would be easier being here after the truth was out. But then, I never thought I’d have to come back without Ben. I stop as pain pierces my chest. I was scared, and I still am, but Ben is the one thing that doesn’t scare me. I would go anywhere with him. I would face anything with him. But here I am, avoiding him. How do I tell him that I want nothing more than to say yes, but I can’t because I don’t want to fail my father?
The night of Ben’s going-away party, Duke showed me a picture of him and my mom together, young and beautiful and in love. I am a part of each of them.
Shaking my head, I pick up the pace, jogging across the street before someone gets pedal happy and smokes me. This city has a high crime rate, something that terrified me when I first moved here. I don’t even care anymore. It seems insignificant. Leeches, crows, goats, bears, unknown watery depths and hunters with guns—they’re all insignificant. I don’t stop moving until I reach my apartment building. I go still, staring at the massive brick structure that’s made of vintage brownstone mixed with cutting renovations. I love this place.
A buzzing sound beside me turns my skin clammy. I never saw a single bee in the wilderness, but of course, now I do. I’ve gone my whole life so far without getting stung. I could be allergic and not even know. I could die. I shift my eyes, trying to find the flying insect before it gets a chance to sting me.
Don’t run, I tell myself, because that is exactly what I want to do. Hold still, and it won’t sting you.
But it lands on my forehead and I freak out, swatting a hand to my head and effectively receiving a stinger to my palm in the process. I scream in surprise, the sound high and short. Chest heaving, I stare at the rapidly growing welt, waiting for the real pain, waiting for my hand to get swollen up to the point where it spreads throughout my body and my throat closes and I can’t breathe. I watch until my vision blurs and I see double, but the welt doesn’t change, and my throat doesn’t close up, and I don’t die. And really, it doesn’t hurt as much as I thought it would.
I frown. That’s it? This is what I’ve been afraid of?
I let out a long breath, drop my hand, look around for any potential witnesses to my small bout of madness, and laugh. That wasn’t so bad. Maybe I can stop being scared about the things I don’t understand. Another buzzing sound takes over the first, my eyes widen, and I sprint toward the haven of my home. Or not. Being stung once in my lifetime is quite enough. For all I know, the bee could be on a quest for vengeance to honor its now dead bee buddy.
25
BEN
I spend the week pacing my apartment when I should be getting my stuff ready.
I pick up the phone a hundred times with the intention of calling Avery to demand that she talk with me, but I always set it back down without contacting her. I left the ball in her court, and she left it there too. I run my fingers through my hair so often I’m surprised there’s any left, and I do it again now. I could go back to my old claim of duplicity on her part and chalk this up to another one of her games, and maybe feel justified in being angry at her for a while, but that isn’t what this is.
I also want to call Avery to hear her voice. I want to tell her I’ve slept on the balcony of my apartment every night since we got back, because sleeping inside, alone in my bed, feels lonelier than being outside with the elements. I miss her scent, her touch, the way I feel when I’m with her, as if I can’t breathe and exasperated out of my mind and on fire.
Avery Scottam is the one piece of my life I know with surety I can’t live without.
I grab a piece of luggage from my bedroom closet and haul it to the bed, unzipping it and tossing stuff in.
The person I least expect a phone call from is Duke, but I get it anyway. Glaring at the cell phone, I slam my finger on the answer button and bring it to my ear. “What?”
“When are you leaving?” he asks gruffly.
“Friday, same as the last time you asked.” I throw a shirt at the pile of clothes.
“What time?”
“Why? You planning on showing up at the airport to make sure I go?”
“What time, smart ass?”
“Ten,” I answer shortly.
“What’s the airline?”
I shift my jaw. “Delta. Anything else?”
It’s a long time before Duke speaks again, his voice oddly hitched. “Yeah, one more thing. What you said about Avery at the party…you meant it?”
I debate on not answering, but find myself doing so, with honesty. “With all my heart.”
The asshole doesn’t bother saying goodbye, just ends the phone call on me without another word. I shake my head, finding the whole thing sketchy, and finish packing my bag.
AVERY
I look up crows on the internet. I figure it’s harder to fear something when you understand it. I mean, I hope. I sip hot cocoa and read with my computer on my lap, fascinated by what I find. According to the website, crows don’t forget a face, and when they encounter a mean human, they will teach other crows how to identify the human.
A group of crows is called a murder, which I find odd but also cool. When a crow dies, the murder will surround the dead bird and have a funeral of sorts. Like detectives, they gather to find out who killed the other crow. Then, the murder will form a group and chase predators in a behavior called mobbing.
I pause, thinking back to their behavior that last night in the forest. Had the hunters killed one of theirs? Is that what the crows terrorizing them had been, and we’d just been lucky to have it benefit us? Whatever it was, I’m grateful for them, something I never thought I’d think.
Crows are much smarter and loyal than I realized.
The panic grows the closer it gets to Ben’s departure time; a sense of wrongness following me around like a dark shadow. He’s leaving tomorrow. I stare at the cell phone; I carry it around with me everywhere. I want to call Ben. I want to tell him: Yes, I will go with you! I will go with you anywhere! Instead, I order takeout I don’t eat and stare at the wall.
The phone rings, my dad’s greeting words: “You’re fired.”
I jerk back from the receiver, almost falling off the couch. “What?”
“You no longer work for Sanders and Sisters, effective immediately. If at some point in the future, you’d like to resume your employment with the company, you may contact me to see if there is a position open, but not for many, many months from now. I didn’t want to do this over the phone, but…”
“Then why are you?” I tightly grip the phone to my ear, stunned and h
urt.
Duke sighs, the sound ragged and worn. “Because I can’t tell you goodbye to your face. Because I want you to have a better life than your mom or me. Because I know you love Ben and Ben loves you. Because I won’t be responsible for your unhappiness, damn it!”
I stare unseeingly, breathing fast, mind spinning.
“I love you, Avery, and I want you to be happy. However unfortunate it may be, Ben makes you happy.”
I snort, wiping my arm across suddenly weepy eyes. “Come on, Dad, admit that Ben’s a pretty great guy.”
“He is,” he allows after a long pause. “Be safe, take care of yourself, and call me often. If Ben hurts you in any way, I will hunt him down and castrate him. Be sure you tell him that.”
“Dad, I can’t—I don’t know if—” I am unable to choke out the words, too much emotion pressing on me from all sides.
“You do know,” he interrupts gently. “His plane leaves at ten tomorrow.”
I focus on my breathing, my vision blurred by tears.
“Avery? You got all that?”
“Okay, Dad,” I whisper. “Thank you.”
After ending the call, I take the gift I have yet to open, laughing until tears come to my eyes when I see it’s a DVD of Stand by Me. I should have known. Ben was adamant that I watch this someday. Tonight is as good a time as any.
The next morning, I dress and race to the airport, pushing past people as I search the main terminal for Ben. The airport is packed, but I barely notice. I ignore everything but the need to find Ben before he steps onto a plane and out of my life. I rush up a flight of stairs and veer to the right. I scan the screens, more confused the longer I search. There are so many flights. Frustrated, I decide to walk. This place is a madness, but I press on, determined to find Ben.
I see him standing near a set of stairs that lead to a security checkpoint, staring out a window. He looks contemplative, and as I watch, determined. Ben’s dark hair is shorter than the last time I saw him, his face clean of facial hair, dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt. Adrenaline spikes through me, along with heady relief.
