by Anne Leigh
I’m moving on. To a life without her.
It’s going be fine.
I’m going to be alright.
Then why does it feel like I’m telling myself the biggest, fattest lie?
After paying the entrance fee, I’d been circling the lot trying to find parking. Every kid within a ten mile radius must have wanted to be at Lake Mead today. That or they were offering discounted school field trips because of the high number of yellow school buses littered around the parking lot.
She’d said 11:30.
It’s almost 11:45.
Up until around eight, I was still 70-30. Seventy percent not coming at all. Thirty, maybe. One hundred percent wanting to throw everything in my line of sight.
Her text came in late last night. 10:55 PM.
Please meet me tomorrow.
I should have blocked her number. That would have taught her a lesson. But then I wouldn’t know she called or texted. Fuck, I was a sorry ass. Wimp. Jell-O backbone. When it came to her.
Instead I’d responded: Where?
Not why but where.
Dumb fucker.
Lake Mead, 11:30.
I didn’t text back right away.
My phone beeped with, Please.
Please? To hell with you. You can’t even stand up for us and now you’re saying please.
Before thinking more about it, I sent a reply back, Fine, and shut my phone off for the rest of the night.
On my way there, I had the urge to stop by one of the 24-hour casinos, pick up a few women, and bring them with me as reinforcements. Reinforcements? Seriously I’m messed up. Since when did I need reinforcements to meet up with my girlfriend? Okay ex-girlfriend. A secret ex-girlfriend.
Once parked, I jumped out of the car, uncaring if I had parked between the lines.
“Shit,” I mumbled, reaching for the sunglasses in time before they to the ground as I grappled with my phone and car keys. My phone beeped with a text letting me know where she was at and I hurried my steps as I navigated my way to find her.
Walking through the crowd of kids who were enjoying a tour of the gardens, I stopped in my tracks the minute I caught a glimpse of her back facing the quiet cool view of the lake that spanned the area.
She was wearing one of those pairs of skinny jeans and a yellow blouse that did nothing to hide the unapologetic curves of her body. Her arms were tucked to her sides. She flexed her neck and raised an arm to massage the back of her neck. A neck that I’d kissed one too many times. I’d grown quite familiar with how soft her skin felt, how her ears flushed pink when I kissed the line from her shoulder to her clavicle to her earlobe, and how the light goose bumps formed along her neck when I murmured something dirty to her. Her rigid posture indicated that she was nervous, hesitant, unsure.
Still facing the peaceful view of the gentle water cascading in the lake which was quite contrary to the conflicting thoughts going through my mind, I closed out the distance between us.
“I’m here.” It came out abrupt, harsh, the past two week’s hurt pouring out in every syllable.
How I wanted to hurt her. Throw every load of bullshit that her father had concocted about precious Emmett that made her choose him, at her face, and make her lick my spit.
Her soft hands gripped on the edge of her blouse forming tight fists as she slowly turned to face me.
Every damning word, every accusation, every single insult I thought of hurling at her dissipated into the wind the second I saw her eyes. Those beautiful, soulful, silver gray orbs that lit up the instant she saw me and in a few seconds the light diminished as soon as she glimpsed at my grim countenance.
I could never hurt her.
I would never hurt her.
“Milo.” Her left hand instinctively reached up to my scruffy face. I hadn’t bothered to shave in more than a week; I was pretty sure that in a few more days, a grizzly would come looking for his ‘stache on my face.
I shrugged my shoulders, trying my damnedest to look unaffected. “Why did you want to see me? I thought we were done.” Shaking my left shoulder where some yellow leaves had landed, I continued, “I gotta be somewhere in two hours.”
“I…I miss you.” The crack in her voice barely reached my ears because of the birds chirping in the surrounding trees.
I bit my tongue. Otherwise she’d get a mouthful of every damned expletive there was in the English dictionary and Italian.
“Why am I here?” I sounded off, tapping my right foot, scanning her face, looking for any evidence that she was suffering as much as I was. No. She looked the same. Gorgeous. Beautiful. Not a hair out of place.
Her hand rolled down to my shoulder and as much as I wanted to shake it off, my body was like a friggin’ hopeless magnet to her touch. Yeah, I’m officially a Pussy-Ass-Wimp. As soon as I get out of here I’m heading to the P-A-W headquarters for their 12-step recovery program. Or just to the gym to pound the sand, nylon, and canvas out of the punching bags.
My hands itched to grab her, pull her in my arms, and get lost in her body. I left my hands in my pockets or the next thing I’d be doing is stripping her of her yellow top that skimmed her body like a second skin. But that would be public display of Ava’s goods. And Ava’s goods weren’t for the public’s consumption. Actually, they weren’t for mine either. Not anymore. Fuck. The thought of Emmett holding her, touching her, kissing her makes me want to put that blonde asswipe as replacement for the punching bags I’d ruined and break every limb in his miserable body.
“I’ve missed you so much,” she expressed, the sun hit her face and what I failed to see before was clear to me now – her eyes were heavy-lidded with bags, the strain on her face was something that her carefully applied makeup couldn’t hide. Maybe that’s why she was wearing extra makeup today. Usually Ava wore minimal makeup, she called it light foundation or something like that. Ava didn’t need much or any makeup at all. Her freshly scrubbed face in the morning was her sexiest look. It’s when her cheeks are naturally pink, supple, her eyes clear-gray, and her lips were dewy and always kissable.
“Ava, why did you ask me to be here?” If she was asking for an illicit encounter, she wasn’t getting it from me. No matter how much I’d want to. I’m tired of secrets. Secrets were like molds…they grew in the dark, thrived on dishonesty, and have a way of being revealed at the lousiest of times. In a way, I had agreed for us to be together away from her father’s eyes, because there was a time limit to it. As soon as the last bell rang in the arena for me, I’d be marching into her father’s office and announcing to him that Ava and I were together. Not to ask for his permission because we were both grown-ass adults, but just out of respect for the man who was her family. Again, not anymore.
I sighed heavily. “I gotta be out of here in a few. Traffic might be heavy going back. You should have just called me.” Maybe I would have answered. Maybe I wouldn’t have. Depending on what state I was in. If I was in my Ava-ranting state, there was a high probability that I wouldn’t have answered her call.
She lowered her lashes, her lips shook, and she tucked a stray hair behind her right ear, exposing the small diamond earrings she’d never taken out. “It will only be a few minutes.” She hesitated for a second, then said, “I’d like you to meet someone.”
I nodded my head, trying to absorb what was going on. We came out all this way for this? Meet someone? Who?
Her hand moved away from my face and clasped on my left hand. I felt the icy tremor in her hold. She was anxious. Extremely anxious. She’s never been this way with me.
Before her sandaled feet could take another step, I tightened my hold on her hand, letting her know, communicating with her that I’m here. She might have stomped on my ass and for some fucked-up unknown reason, chosen to be with Emmett, but she was so vulnerable right now. Hurting her would not settle any scores between us. The only thing that would make everything right is if she comes out of here in my arms.
My focus was on her the whole time, s
he’s bitten her lower lip more than a few times and her eyes flickered in doubt and determination as we walked closer to a huge tree that offered shade and a prime view of the blue green waters and the rough mountains that surrounded the lake.
When Bee and I were kids, our dad loved to take us here for camping, daytrips, and picnics. This is where I’d learned how to use a hook, line, and rod to lure striped bass, catfish, and bluegill. My introduction to the water wasn’t in the pool nor in the ocean, it was here. The calm, predictable teal blue waters of the sixteenth largest man-made structure in the Western Hemisphere was where my childhood attachment to water originated from. I’ve swam in the scenic peninsulas in Son Marroig, Mallorca and even felt the crashing, pounding waters of Cape Leeuwin in Australia– they all brought exhilaration and awe – but this here, the still ebb and flow of Lake Mead was home.
It’s the calm to my tempestuous, wild nature. A place that resonated with my eagerness to learn to build structures as great as this and pacified my feral temper.
Much like the woman in front of me.
Calm but fiery.
Soft yet impervious.
My attention was brought to the scene unfolding in front of me. Ava was now bending down to the level of a woman in a wheelchair whose face was hidden from my view by a blue scarf. Ava kissed the top of the woman’s head, leaned in closer, and I caught her lips moving, whispering something to the woman.
A middle-aged lady with olive skin and scars on her face, her face somehow familiar to me, stood behind the wheelchair and gave me a small smile.
I nodded my head and said, “Hello.”
Ava beckoned me to come closer, so I did. The woman in the metal wheelchair turned her head up, her voice came out clear, “Milo? How are your parents?”
Shock and disbelief planted me on that spot. All the sounds, activity around me went into a standstill. I took a sharp intake of breath, but nothing came out of my mouth. Nothing could have prepared me for this.
Ava straightened from her position, reached for my right hand, and twined her hand with mine. She leaned her head back against my dark navy shirt-covered chest, one that I’d randomly picked out of my drawers this morning, and I consciously removed my hand from her hold to wrap my arm around her waist.
“My parents…” The breadth of the reality in front me was striking, reeling, knee-buckling. Ava’s mom was in France – at least that’s what Bee had mentioned to me before – she was a model, a socialite, a generous lady who would invite my parents over for dinner when she had picked Ava up at school. My parents never took her up on her offer for dinner dates. She always drove the coolest cars, cars that I’m familiar with only because they were part of my vintage toy car collection – Bugati Veyron, Maserati Ghibli, and a Rolls Royce Corniche. She dressed impeccably and her flawless beauty usually reduced the men around her to babbling idiots. I’ve seen it one too many times. Teachers, high school kids, even my father had mentioned that Ava’s mom was a rare beauty – to which my mom had agreed to. The best judge of how a woman would look like when they aged is through their mom. Even at a young age, I caught sight of Ava’s future, her extraordinary looks because of her mom.
“Milo’s parents are not here, Mom,” Ava answered for me.
Her mom let out a light chuckle. “Those lovebirds…they’re never apart.” I didn’t think my parents and Ava’s mom were close. I think they were mere acquaintances who were around each other because of my sister’s friendship with their daughter. My mom didn’t hate Ava’s mom, but she often commented about how Ava shouldn’t be left alone with a nanny. Now I remember, that’s who the woman standing behind Ava’s mom was – her nanny.
“Do you feel the breeze, Mom?” Ava asked and a smile that exposed her teeth appeared.
“It feels good, Ava. I love this place.”
For the first time since I’d arrived here, I touched my lips to Ava’s hair and let my hand linger on her waist, rubbing gently, slowly, soothingly. It was obvious that Ava’s mom was not the same woman I’d met before. She was wearing sunglasses so I couldn’t see her eyes. But I could completely see that she was unable to move her hands and legs because they remained where they were in in the short amount of time we’ve been here.
Beams of light peeked through the leaves and Ava’s nanny stated, “Mi amor, we should move there.” Pointing to the other side of the tree where no sunlight seemed to pass.
Ava nodded, “Si.”
In a matter of minutes, we’ve moved to the shaded area. Ava’s nanny, or former nanny, pulled out a big, green quilted blanket and laid it on the small patch of grass beside the wheelchair. Her mom was lulled to sleep by the gentle breeze while Naomi, as Ava had re-introduced us, excused herself to explore the area.
“She’s all I have, Milo,” Ava spoke, her eyes dewy with unshed tears. She had just finished telling me the story of her mom’s accident and how she was traveling with her father’s best friend, Simon, at the time of the accident. From what she’s revealed to me, it sounded like Ava’s mom and Simon were carrying on an affair and her father found out. I’d asked why Ava wasn’t with them if they were running away from Ava’s father to which she’d thought about for a few minutes and responded with, “I don’t think they were running away. She’d have brought me with them if she was.”
“Is this why you’re a puppet to your father? Why you’re hanging out with that blonde asshat in public?” I asked, realizing that while Ava maintained a façade of a spoiled rich girl in public, what was important to her was not of the material kind. It was in the way she looked up at Naomi, like anything that came out of the woman’s mouth was bible. It was in the tender touches she gave her mom, the love outpouring from her pores.
Presently cradling her head on my lap, she tilted her head up, her eyes blanketed in gloom. “He holds all the cards you know. With a flick of his finger, he can ban me from ever seeing her again. He hates me, Milo. I think it’s because I remind him so much of my mother. I’ve never been an obedient daughter. I did my own thing and my mom let me be. The first time I took her to see a neuro specialist in New York when he was in Hong Kong, he was livid. The second time I took her to another one here in Nevada, he drew up documents stating that I could never take her to anyone other than his own doctors. It’s like he doesn’t want her to remember.” She continued, her left hand fiddling with the tiny diamond ear piercing, “Dr. McGrath, the neuro in New York, said that she could have a chance of gaining her memories back. But I don’t even know if it’s possible now. It’s been years... And what nursing school has taught me is that if you don’t use the muscle, you lose it. She hasn’t used that part of her brain for years, so her ability to remember and function might have dramatically decreased by now.”
“Why didn’t you tell me before?” She knew all about me, and this was something integral that she had to disclose if she wanted to give us a chance. “Don’t you trust me?”
She lifted a hand to my mouth and pressed on it. “Shh…I trust you with my life Milo.”
“Then why?”
“I didn’t know if I could trust you with hers,” she admitted, her eyes changing to a duller gray. Ava’s eyes fascinated me, always have, even when I teased her when we were younger. They became almost shiny silver when she’s happy, dark gray to black when she was in her huffy, annoyed moods, and dull gray when she was sad. Tapping a soft finger just below my chin, she added, “What I meant is that, if my father learned that I’d told someone else about my mom’s situation, he’d probably move her to another place where I wouldn’t be able to reach her. I…I don’t know if I can handle it and I just don’t want anything happening to her without my knowledge. It’s bad enough I’m only allowed to do certain things with her, I just can’t imagine not being with her for long periods of time. When I travel, I make sure to video chat with Naomi just so I’d know how she’s doing.”
I thumbed along her collarbone, her skin pinked up at my touch. “What do you need me to do, Ava? Ask me now. T
ell me. Why are you telling me about your mom?”
“Because I’m selfish.”
“Selfish?” My brows bunching up, I adjusted her head so her neck won’t be hurting later, my legs weren’t as soft as the downy pillows she favored. “Why do you say that?”
Slowly, she sat up and straddled my lap, crossing her legs behind my back, her stare soft, open. “The past weeks have been so hard for me. You’re all I can think about. I miss you...so much. I know there’s probably a good chance it’s not going to end well with my father and I when he learns about what I’ve done here today. I didn’t want you involved. But you’re my Achilles’ heel, Milo.”
“Achilles?” Ava liked to read about those Greek gods. More than a few nights she’d fall asleep with a hard-bound book on top of her chest. Those were the times when I was trying to finish a project with Jeff. Sometimes she’d share with me stories about heroes of the Trojan war.
One time, I’d joked that the only Trojans I knew were Magnums and brought a lot of ecstasy. That was the night I was banned from getting anywhere near her pleasure points. She’d set up a line of defense with five pillows around her and to make matters worse, she had worn a bra to sleep in as if letting me know she was completely off-limits. After that I made it a point never to joke about her precious heroes. Relationships meant respect, give-and-take, learning to value what the other person likes. She understood my fascination with cars and video games; I tried to listen to her talk about Heracles, Agamemnon, and a dude named Zeus. Most of the time, I dozed off by the time she was at the height of talking about some love triangle, but I’d redeem myself by saying, “That was a beautiful love story,” or, “Wow, what a kick-ass hero!” She probablymy knew I was faking it, but she’d just give me a smile for even pretending to listen.
