by McLean, Jay
Connor smiles as he sits down next to her, then lies down when she does. They stare up at the night sky, the stars bright against the darkness. Mom’s head lolls to the side, facing him. “Thank you, Connor, six-five, weak jump shot. I didn’t realize how much I needed this.”
“You’re welcome, Miss D,” he replies, pushing his hand through the sleeve and taking hers in his grasp. “It’s been an honor.”
I try to sniff back another onset of tears, but I can’t. And Trevor—he must hear it, or sense it somehow, because he throws his arm around my neck, pulling me to him. He kisses my temple and wipes his own tears across the front of his jacket. Then he clears his throat, his voice low and meant only for me: “When the world is at its darkest…”
I gasp. “…that’s when the magic appears.”
Chapter 17
Ava
Connor: Hey, is your mom up?
Ava: Are we just going to bypass my greetings from now on? I feel used.
Connor: Good morning, future girlfriend.
Ava: Good morning. :)
Connor: Is your mom up?
Ava: Yeah, why?
Connor: I have to get to an early practice, but I have five minutes. Can I come by?
I glance up from my phone to see Mom at the kitchen sink, staring out into the yard. She hasn’t mentioned last night, and I’ve been too wary to bring it up.
Ava: Meet me on the porch.
“I’m just meeting Connor outside. I’ll be back in a couple minutes. Okay, Mama?”
Mom doesn’t respond, and Trevor and I share a knowing look. We’re both used to her short-term memory loss, but Connor… he hasn’t had to deal with it yet, and I’m worried about how he’ll react.
Connor’s already standing on my porch when I open the door, and so I step out to join him, closing the door behind me.
“Hi, future girlfriend,” he greets, planting a cold-nosed kiss on my cheek. “How’s my second favorite lady doing today?” He’s so happy and hopeful and alive, and I don’t want to break him.
After a sigh, I step closer to him and flatten my hands on his stomach when I look up and into his eyes. “Mom’s not having a good day, and I don’t know if she’s just exhausted from last night or if…” If this is just a repeat of the many days prior.
Connor’s grin falters, just for a second before his chin lifts. “She’ll be happy to see me.”
I can’t.
I don’t have it in me to destroy his hope, and so I open the door and step aside to let him in. Mom hasn’t moved from her position, and Connor’s quiet as he approaches her. “Good morning, Miss D.”
Mom spins to face him, her eyes void of any emotion, and there’s no inflection in her tone when she murmurs, “Hello.” That’s it. That’s all she gives him before going back to staring outside.
Leaning against the doorway of the kitchen, I let my head rest on the frame, hands behind my back as I watch Connor’s expression fall completely. Trevor’s loud sigh fills the silence. He gets up from the kitchen table and moves past Connor, patting his shoulder gently. In Connor’s ear, Trevor whispers, “Don’t let it bring you down, okay?”
Connor’s throat bobs with his swallow, but he doesn’t respond in words. Shoulders deflated, he looks over at me, and I can see the exact moment hope drowns in his chest, and the liveliness in his eyes flickers and flickers until it dims completely.
“I’m sorry,” I mouth, my eyes welling at the sight of him.
He offers a smile—the saddest, most heartbreaking smile—and moves toward me, his chest rising with his heavy inhale. Lips warm, he places a gentle kiss on my forehead and squeezes my hand. “I’ll see you at school?”
I drop my head to his chest, my hand to his heart, echoes of magic tapping against my fingers. “Please don’t be sad,” I whisper, blinking back the heat behind my eyes.
He laughs once, short and sharp. “I’m all right,” he assures, stepping away. A moment later, he’s out the door, taking his heartache with him.
I roll my head to the side, look at my mother again. She’s staring down at the sink. “It’s empty,” she whispers.
“I did the dishes already.”
She shakes her head, slowly, slowly. “Not the dishes, Ava.”
“Then what?”
Sighing, she turns around, her eyes finding mine. “Me.”
* * *
Connor is a picture of hopelessness when I walk into first-period multimedia class. Head down, forearms on the table, he’s ignoring the hype going on around him regarding tonight’s game. “Hey,” I say, dropping my bag beside his ball and sitting down next to him.
He looks up, a semblance of a smile. “Hey.”
“How was practice?”
His cheeks puff with the force of his exhale. “It damn near killed me,” he says through a chuckle. “I’m going to feel beaten and bruised after the game.”
“Is that why you look so…” I trail off, not wanting to trigger him.
Nodding, he replies, “Yeah. I’m just stressed about tonight.”
“Anything I can do?”
A low chuckle builds in his chest and dies in his throat. Leaning in, he whispers, “There’s a lot you can do to relieve my stress, Ava, but it’s not really friendly.” He rests his hand on my thigh, creeping higher up my skirt.
And, just to mess with him, I whisper back, “Like give you a hand job under the desk?”
His hand stills, his shoulders tensing. When he rears back, his eyes are on mine, narrowed. “You win,” he sighs out, his lips curled at the corners. “Honestly, it’s a little of that and a little of what happened with your mom.”
I pout. “I figured.”
“I’ll get over it; it’s just…”
“Hard?” I finish for him.
His lips thin to a line, his eyes cast downward. “I guess I just really hoped it would make a difference, you know? And I thought—it’s stupid…”
“It’s not.”
And that’s all we can get in before Miss Salas enters the room and starts an hour-long diatribe about the effects of social media on our generation.
Connor doesn’t take his hand off my leg the entire time.
* * *
“So, how’s the plan coming along?” Miss Turner asks, taking a bite of her sandwich.
I’m always telling her that I hate taking up her lunch break, but I have a feeling she prefers my company over everyone else’s at this school. “It’s kind of at a standstill at the moment. I’m still trying to process it all, to be honest.”
“Well, there’s not much time left, so you better start making the dream work. Have you told anyone yet?”
I shake my head. “No. I don’t want to until everything is in place.”
“I’m proud of you, Ava. You’ve come a long way from the girl who used to come in here fighting the world around you.”
“Oh, I’m still fighting,” I assert. “But now, I refuse to back down.”
She smiles, a hint of pride. “And how are things with Connor?”
I frown. “I think I broke him...”
With ten minutes left of the lunch break, I leave Miss Turner’s office, my heart beating fast in my chest. If ever there was a time to find the courage to do what I need to do next, it’s now. Because like Miss Turner said, if I truly want what my heart desires, I need to fight for it.
I wipe my sweaty palms on my skirt, pacing the space just outside the cafeteria doors. My eyes drift shut while anxious energy vibrates through my bloodline. “Just do it, Ava,” I whisper, then roll my eyes. I talk a big game for someone scared shitless to enter a fucking room.
Without another thought, I enter through the glass sliding doors, my head held high. I don’t look around me or stop when the volume drops. Instead, I march over to Connor, noticing Rhys’s eyes widen and motion to me. Connor turns his head and then stands slowly. “Sit!” I order. It comes out harsher than intended, but it’s too late to take it back.
His eyes soften, t
he corner of his lips lifting in a smirk.
Pulse in my eardrums, I wait until his ass is back in his chair, and then I sit across his lap, my arm around his neck. I can feel his smile across my shoulder as his hand goes to my waist. Behind me, Karen giggles. “Damn, girl. Way to claim your property.” But that’s not what this is about, and I hope Connor knows that. I’m here because… because it’s time to stop hiding. And because I want to be.
His hand drifts up my back, to my nape, and he holds me there, his nose trailing up my neck, lips stopping just under my ear. His exhale warms my entire body, and I shiver when he kisses me there. “Hello,” he says, his voice gruff. And that single, stupid word sends a blush right to my cheeks.
I dip my head until my mouth meets his, and I kiss him quickly. “Hello,” I return, then bite my bottom lip to stop my smile.
His eyes are bright, a complete contrast to this morning, and this… this is the reason I’m here. Because I want to do whatever I can to take away his heartache, just like he’d done for me so many times before.
I pull his tray closer to me and lift an apple. “Are you going to eat this?”
He shakes his head, his smile unrestrained. “Take it. All of it. Anything you want. Whenever you want it.”
Chapter 18
Ava
“Do you mind if we watch Connor’s game?” I ask Mom as she settles on the couch with a blanket and her tablet. She’s started reading for pleasure now, which is a huge step, but I wonder how it’s possible she can remember what she reads but can’t remember the life-changing moment that happened only yesterday.
“Yes, Ava. You don’t need to ask my permission to watch your boyfriend,” she mumbles, rolling her eyes.
“He’s not my—”
“Quit it,” Trevor cuts in, setting up the TV for me.
“Quit what?” I huff out.
“Lying to yourself.”
He has a point.
The stream starts just as the team walks onto the court, and Connor—he runs out holding the balloon—still inflated—that I’d left on his porch earlier. He squeezes it until it pops, then shoves the remains down his pants. I bust out a laugh at the same time Trevor says, “Your boy’s weird.”
“You are!”
“You sure feel passionately for a boy who isn’t your boyfriend.”
I sit on the floor between the couch and the coffee table and watch the game. Even Trevor seems interested. Maybe because it’s the first game of the playoffs and if they win this and the next, they go to regionals. It’s only halftime but St. Luke’s is a much stronger team, and the scoreboard proves it. If Connor weren’t playing, I’d be bored out of my mind.
When the second half starts, Mom puts down her tablet and pats the spot on the couch next to her. I get up and sit with her under the one blanket. Connor scores the next five points, and Mom shifts next to me, sitting forward, her eyes glued to the screen. She watches the game. I watch her. Because there’s something in her stare, in the way her eyes widen just slightly every time Connor appears. “You like watching Connor play, Mama?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
Trevor asks, “You think his jump shot’s improved?”
“I don’t know,” Mom murmurs. “But I feel… something.” She taps at her chest. “In here.”
My spine straightens, hope filling my heart. “You do?”
“Like um…” Her bottom lip trembles. “Like, happiness.” She turns to me. “But… but I don’t know why.”
Trevor and I glance at each other quickly. I ask her as gently as possible, “You don’t remember?”
Her lips pull down. “No, Ava,” she says, shaking her head, her eyes filling with tears. “I don’t remember.” The first sob comes a second later, and I wrap my arms around her, feel her shoulder shudder against my cheek.
I stroke her hair, the way she used to do for me. “It’s okay, Mama.”
“It’s not!” She pulls back, gaze alternating between Trevor and me. “What else don’t I remember?”
“Mama Jo,” Trevor tries to soothe, moving to squat in front of her. Hands on her knees, he adds, “It’s okay. As long as you remember who you are and who we are, nothing else is important.”
Mom’s shaking her head, the heel of her palm slapping against her temple. I reach up and try to get her to stop. “Birthdays and holidays and…” She focuses on Trevor. “Why aren’t you in Texas?”
Trevor’s sharp inhale catches in his throat, and he looks to me for answers.
“Are you here for me?” she asks him.
Trevor’s eyes drift shut.
“Are you!” she demands.
“I don’t…” Trevor breathes out, his gaze on me, pleading.
Static fills my mind. Mom’s never been like this before, never to the point she doesn’t understand what’s going on around her. “Trevor works here now,” I tell her, a half-truth.
She looks around the house as if it’s the first time she’s seeing it. “Where’s William?” It’s been a long time since she’s brought up Trevor’s dad, and the last time… it was the onset of too many negative days to count.
On the TV, Connor scores again. Mom’s nose scrunches. “Connor,” she whispers and taps her heart again. “Happiness.” Then her face falls, and the new onslaught of cries begins. She rocks in her place, back and forth, back and forth, her fist moving from her temple to her heart, again and again. “I don’t remember. I don’t remember. I don’t remember…”
* * *
Ava: Hey. I wasn’t able to watch the whole game. I’m sorry. It looked like you guys were heading for a W, though.
Connor: Yeah, it was a cakewalk. You okay?
Ava: Call me when you’re done celebrating?
Connor: No celebrations for me tonight. I need to rest. About to get in an ice bath. Join me?
Ava: I wish.
Ava: I miss you, Connor.
Connor: I’ll call you as soon as I’m out.
True to his word, Connor calls a half hour later, and I can tell he’d literally just gotten out of the bath because he has me on speaker while he moves around his room, opening and closing drawers to get dressed. “I miss you, too!” he calls out as soon as I answer and before I can get a word in. “You said it before, and I didn’t say it back, and I didn’t want you to think I didn’t miss you because I do. Just give me one second.”
I wait, phone to my ear, my lips curled at the corners, and it should be impossible to feel the way I do just from hearing his voice or knowing he’s close. Especially after the night I’ve had. A beat passes before his phone crackles, and I know he’s taken me off speaker to give me his full attention. “Are you there?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
“Tough night?”
With a heavy sigh, I tell him, “I don’t want to talk about it. I’d rather talk about you and the game. Will you tell me about it?”
“Um… there’s not much to say, but…” He pauses a beat. “Ava, I know something’s going on. What happened?”
My lashes dip, my eyes focused on the check I’d pulled out of my drawer.
I can take care of you, Ava.
I’m running out of time. And options. “Can you come over?”
“Window or door?”
“Window.”
I lift the blinds, then the window, and wait for him, my heart somehow racing and settling at the same time when he comes into view. He’s in flip-flops, a tank top, and basketball shorts. “Aren’t you cold?”
He gets to the window, his teeth clenched. “I didn’t really think when I left; I just wanted to see you.”
Stepping back, I help him get in as quietly as possible, then close the window after him. “Do you want your hoodie back?” I ask, my back still to him.
When I turn around, he’s in my bed, lifting the covers to his chin. “I’m good.”
“By all means, make yourself comfortable.”
He smirks. “I plan to, but first…” He reaches over, grasps my hand, and pulls
me to him as he makes space for me. I get in bed with him, ignoring the iciness of his flesh when he throws his arm around me. “What happened tonight?”
“She’s having a hard time remembering things,” I murmur, tracing the lines on his palm with the tip of my finger. “And not just last night, but… she didn’t understand why Trevor was here, and she kept asking for William.” I look up at him, at the all-consuming frown ruining his beautiful face. “I don’t know what triggered it, but last time it was this bad… things went downhill so fast. I blinked, and she was…”
“Did I do this? By taking her out last night?”
“No, Connor,” I’m quick to say. “This just… this is her life.”
“But I made it worse?” he mumbles, removing his hand from my grip. The heels of his palms press to his temples, circling. His head tilts, his eyes going to the ceiling for answers. His moan of frustration echoes in the room, in my heart.
I take his hand again, link my fingers with his, and go to kiss the back of it, stopping when I see the black marker there. My eyes narrow when I read the words: Miss D.
“What’s this?” I ask, and he looks down, traces his handwriting.
After a heavy sigh, he says, “Every time I went for a shot, I’d see her name, and it reminded me of…”
“Of what?”
He licks his lips, focused on our connection. “It reminded me of her… and you. It just helped me push on, I guess.”
My heart squeezes at his words, and I lift my gaze to his. “Why are you so perfect, Connor?”
“I’m not, Ava,” he replies, shaking his head. “If I were, we wouldn’t be here.”
“In my bed together?” I try to joke.
But he doesn’t find it funny. “You ever think about what happened to us?”
“Of course,” I whisper.
