by McLean, Jay
“You’re mad?”
“Should I not be?” I try to take a calming breath, but it doesn’t seem to help. “What do you want?”
“Look,” she says, glancing at all the people still milling around us. “This isn’t the time or place… but can you meet me somewhere?”
“No.” I don’t want to be here. Not with her. Not alone. I grip my phone tighter. As pathetic as it is, I want my dad.
“Please.”
I laugh once, look over her shoulder, and hope she can’t see the ache through my eyes. “It’s funny… I cried that same word over and over in that car… when I felt like I was suffocating. I said please, Mama, and you didn’t care then, so…”
“I know.” She wipes at the corners of her eyes, and my gaze moves there, sees the pain she’s carrying. “There’s a lot of things we need to talk about.”
“You need to talk about,” I rush out, trying to be strong, defiant. “I have nothing to say to you.”
I start to walk away, but she stops me, her hand on my elbow. I flinch. Turn to her.
“You owe me nothing,” she says.
“I know this.”
“Connor,” she sighs out, looking around us. “You don’t know how much I’m risking by being here.”
I step forward, tower over her, and let that initial anger consume me. “I should have you arrested.”
“I know,” she whispers, and I can tell she’s on the verge of sobbing. And I know that I shouldn’t feel the way I do when I hear the single cry escape her. I know I should walk away, just like she did. But…
But I can’t.
“Here,” she says, taking a step back. She keeps her gaze lowered, guarded when she hands me a folded-up note. “Here’s my number. I’ll be at this address at 7:30 tonight. Show up or don’t, but trust me, Connor. It’s better to live your entire life with the truth than it is to live with regret.”
Ava
I don’t hear from Connor for the rest of the afternoon and most of the evening, and so I assume that he’s busy. Of course, he would be. I get Mom settled on the couch after listening to her ramble on and on and on about Connor’s game, about him getting MVP, and I smile when she says, “You’re so lucky to have each other.”
I clean up the house a little but keep the streamers and balloons up for when Connor returns. Then I go to my room, grab the large cardboard gift box I keep under my bed and knock on Trevor’s door. He doesn’t answer, and when I open it, he isn’t there. He’s not in the kitchen or in the bathroom, and so I check out on the porch. He’s sitting on the bench, his phone to his ear. When he sees me, he says into the phone, “I’ll call you back.” When he hangs up, he focuses on me. “What’s up?”
I sit next to him, make sure the baby monitor’s on so I can hear if Mom needs me. “Was that Amy?”
“Yeah.”
He points to the box. “What you got there?”
I turn to him, my smile soft. “I know that you’re just messing around with the whole jealous-of-Connor thing…”
His eyes narrow.
“At least, I think you are.”
“I am,” he assures, and I breathe out a sigh of relief.
I hand him the box. “But I wanted you to know that I’m just as proud of you as I am of him.”
He takes the box from me, his eyes thinned in confusion as he opens the lid. He picks up the first scrapbook and flips the page. There’s a picture of him and me at his first college game—when I begged Mom and William to let me go with them. He’s in all his football gear, and I’m wearing an Aggie jersey with his number on my cheek. I look so young. We both do. He turns the page; sees the article I’d cut out of the Texas A&M Today newsletter about him and where he came from. “You did this?” he whispers, and I can hear the emotion in his voice that he’s trying so hard to hide.
“That’s just your college freshman year,” I say, nodding. I reach into the box, pull out the other five scrapbooks, discarding the additional photographs and articles I didn’t have room for but wanted to keep. “These are every year from high school freshman up.” Then I point to a photo album. “And that’s just of you and me growing up.”
He’s silent as he goes through every photograph, every article, every printout from every website that ever mentioned his name. He sniffs occasionally, and I know my brother well enough to know he’s big and bulky on the outside, but inside… he’s a giant softie, and his staggered exhale reminds me of why I love him so much, why I look up to him the way I do. “Jesus, Ava,” he mumbles, the heels of his palms going to his eyes. “I had no idea you did this.”
“I know,” I tell him, shifting when he puts his arm around my shoulders. “And this might sound extra cheesy and super wrong, but… you were the first boy I loved, Trevor, and that won’t ever change. You’re always going to be my big brother, and I’m always going to be a pain in your ass.”
He laughs once, releasing me. Then he drops his head between his shoulders, his heavy sigh deflating his chest. “Ava, I need to tell you something, but I don’t want to. Especially now.”
I grasp his shoulder, force him to sit up so I can look at him. “What’s wrong?”
He turns to me, his eyes red, his nostrils flaring with his exhale. “Jesus, I don’t know how to say this.”
I say through the ache in my chest, “Just say it, Trevor. You’re scaring me.”
“We’re out of money, Ava. And I don’t know how to fix it.” He looks ahead, his gaze distant, while I try to settle my racing heart. “I tried to get a loan yesterday, and they denied it. I’ve already borrowed from Mr. Preston, but I can’t ask him again, and I lied to you before… I wasn’t on the phone with Amy. I was on the phone with Peter—”
“No!” I rush out. “Don’t ask him for money.”
“I have to.”
“No.” I stand. Pace. “I’ll get a job.”
“It won’t be enough.”
“I’ll quit school. We’re so close. I can still graduate.” Probably. “And I’ll be able to help out.”
“The money you’d make could possibly pay for Krystal, but then you may as well stay at home, and even then, we’re so far in the red…”
I wipe at the tears too quick to appear.
“I’m sorry, Ava,” he chokes. “I thought it would be enough, but—”
“Stop it!” I order, standing in front of him. “You’ve done more than…” My stomach twists, and I can’t breathe.
He looks up, tired, worried eyes on mine. “The changes in her insurance meant we had to pay more for her meds, and now that they’ve finally found the right—”
“I’ll call the doctors to come out on Monday. We’ll see what they say.”
Trevor nods. “But we still need help, and Peter—”
“No!”
“Why not?”
“Because!” Because with Peter, the debt becomes more than just financial. I calm myself down. “Because we can do this on our own. Just let me call the doctors and the insurance and just… just give me a few days before talking to him, okay? Promise me.”
“All right.”
“And don’t ever do this again.”
“Do what?”
“Carry this weight on your own. Don’t keep secrets from me.”
He nods. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do enough.”
I sit next to him again, wrap my arms around the solid wall of dependency I’ve taken for granted. “Don’t be sorry, Trevor. Ever.”
I just need time, I tell myself again, and everything will fall into place.
Connor
The world is bright orange as the sun begins to set, and it reminds me of the balloons on my porch, of Ava. I wish I were there instead of standing on the sidewalk, leaning against a streetlamp as I look across the road and into the large windows of the chain restaurant at close to 8 p.m.
She’s still there, my mother, waiting for me. Occasionally, she’ll check the time and look at the doors, expecting me to appear.
; I don’t know why I’m here. Curiosity, I try to convince myself. Morbid curiosity. I pinch the bridge of my nose, try to release the pounding in my head.
Pushing off the post, I take a step forward, and then another, until I’ve crossed the road and I’m opening the door. My mom sits higher when she sees me, a hint of a smile pulling on her lips. A part of me hates that I’ve given her that tiny amount of joy. But another part of me flashes to all the moments of joy I remember us having, and I think I hate that more.
“Hey,” I murmur the second my ass hits the seat. In a booth, in the corner of the room, I suddenly feel trapped. Anxiety swarms through my bloodline, closing my airways. I shouldn’t have come here, but now it’s too late. And I know that if I didn’t, I’d regret it forever.
“Did you want a drink? Coffee? Hot choco—”
“I hate chocolate.”
“Really?” Her brow lifts. “You used to love it.”
I keep my eyes on hers when I say, “I used to love a lot of things.”
My birth giver shakes her head, her eyes moving to the text written on my arms. She reads it before I can hide what’s there. “Ava. She’s your girlfriend, right?”
“You already know who she is. You’ve met her. And I’d appreciate it if you kept her name out of your mouth.” I don’t want you to tarnish her like you did me, I don’t say.
Her eyes lift, soften. “I went back, you know?”
I lean forward. “What?”
“I went back for you. Once I’d realized what I’d done, I went back…” Tears form in her eyes, and she’s quick to swipe them away. “But you’d already been… found… and there were so many people around you and I couldn’t…”
“You couldn’t deal,” I finish for her. “Just like you couldn’t deal with being a mother, right?” I swallow the lump in my throat. “Was I that bad of a kid?” It was supposed to come out harsh, but my true emotions fly out with my words, taking my insecurities with them.
“Connor, no,” she whispers through a wobbly exhale. “It was never about you.” She reaches across the table, her hand covering mine, and I let her. I fucking let her. “When everyone was gone… I saw your toy cars sitting there. Remember those, sweetheart? You loved them so much, you couldn’t go anywhere without them.”
I claim back my hand, rest it on my lap, and keep my eyes downcast. “I remember.”
“You’d watch those movies for hours, and the soundtracks were always going in my car…”
I don’t have anything to say, so I stay quiet.
“Do you still like cars?”
“Not really.”
She sighs. “It’s all about basketball now, right?”
I nod.
“Or it has been for a while. I think the first time I saw your name pop up you were around twelve.”
I look up at her now, my eyes wide in surprise.
“I’ve been following you for years, watching you grow up from afar.” There’s a wistfulness in her words, and my heart aches in ways I never thought possible. She’s cared about me… but never enough to claim me back.
“Where have you been? And what do you want from me now?” I pause a breath, my voice quiet when I add, “We don’t have any money—Dad and me—and if you think you can somehow get some because I’m heading to the league, then… I don’t even know what to say to you.”
“I don’t want your money,” she’s quick to reply. “And your dad—shit, Connor, no one can know I’m here. If anyone finds out that I exist, I could…”
“I know what could happen to you.” And I hold all the cards.
“I mean it, Connor. Not your dad, not your girlfriend. No one.”
“Why should I give you grace? Did you somehow forget what you did to me?”
“No!” she almost shouts. “I’ve been hiding out in a cabin in the woods, never leaving my house, living every day with the pain of knowing what I did to you!” She ends on a sob, one so harsh and so loud it has people’s heads turning. She cowers, grabs a napkin from the dispenser to wipe at her tears. Barely a whisper, she adds, “I’m protecting you and everyone you love when I tell you that they can’t know. I’m still a… a fugitive.” She says the word as if it’s acid on her tongue. “And having them know means they could get in a lot of trouble if…” she trails off, and I know where she’s going, what she means. I’ve watched enough true crime documentaries to understand the consequences, but it still doesn’t answer my question of what she wants.
Confusion fills every nerve of my being, and I hate that I can’t control my emotions. I hate that seeing her upset makes my heart ache, but seeing her smile makes me angry. “So why risk it all now?”
She takes a moment, trying to slow her breaths. “My mom’s sick.”
“Okay…?”
“Do you remember her?”
I shake my head. “Not even a little bit.”
She nods slowly. “She’s the only person I have contact with, and she’s always asking about you. She knows what I did… and she makes it known every day how she feels about it. But…” A frown tugs at her lips. “She’s dying, Connor. Cancer. And she doesn’t have long. She wanted me to reach out to you, and I had to. For her. And maybe even a little for me.”
I blow out a breath, stagnant, as I let her words dig deep inside me.
“She’s done nothing wrong in any of this, so if you want to punish me, I understand. But don’t do it to her, Connor. She’s your grandmother, and she loves you very much.”
“So, what do you want from me?”
“She just wants to see you again, before… before she dies.”
I rub the back of my neck, my mind swarming. “I have to think about it.”
“I know. And you have my number. Just… it’s time sensitive, you know?”
“I get that.”
She smiles.
I start to get out of the booth. “I’ll let you know?”
“Okay.” She stands, too. “I assume a hug is out of the question?”
I still, bewildered, and find myself lifting my arms, letting her close the distance. Her arms wrap around my torso…
…while mine fall to my sides.
I tell her, my heart heavy, “I already have a mother figure in my life.”
She pulls away, her eyes confused when they meet mine.
I add, letting go of every thought I’ve had since the moment I saw the cars she’d given to Ava, “My girlfriend’s mom—she’s a war veteran, and she has injuries that caused her brain damage—and even she can find a way to love me unconditionally. And my dad… he’s done such an amazing job of being both parents to me for so long that after a while, I stopped missing you. Stopped thinking about you completely. And I’m sorry,” I say, my chin up, shoulders back just like Miss D ordered the day I lost regionals, “I can’t pretend like everything’s okay between us, because it’s not.” I turn for the door, leave her there.
I make it two steps before she calls out my name, and I pause, my eyes drifting shut when she says, “Talk to your dad about what happened back then, Connor. He’s not so innocent in all of this.”
* * *
I wait until I’m back in my hotel room before checking my phone. Neither Dad nor Ava has called, but there’s a message from Dad asking me to call him when I can. Confusion blurs my mind when I hit dial, the question forefront in my mind, on the tip of my tongue. What does he know that I don’t?
“Connor!” Dad shouts. “I didn’t want to call in case I was going to ruin your street cred,” he laughs out. “But damn, kid! You made me one proud dad today! I’m kicking myself for not being there. I should’ve quit my damn job and just gone. Screw dying people, right?”
There’s a blinding ache in my chest, in my head, my entire fucking body. I throw myself on the bed, my eyes to the ceiling.
“Are you there, son?”
“Yeah, sorry…”
His voice is filled with excitement when he says, “I heard next door going wild every time you appeare
d.” He blows out a breath, static filling my ears. “Jesus, Connor, even if none of this was happening, just who you are, the man you’ve become… Honestly, I’m pretty darn proud of myself for raising you.” He can’t stop laughing, and I picture him sitting on the couch in his sleep clothes, a giant smile on his face, pride lighting up his eyes, just like he did when I got into Duke. But I realize now that it’s the exact same way he’s looked at me my entire life.
Fuck what my mom had to say. She doesn’t know what we are—Dad and me—because she chose not to be there. And how fucking dare she try to take that away. “Dad?”
“Yeah, son?”
“I appreciate you so much.” I blink back the tears. “If I’ve never told you that or made you feel that before…just know that I do. That I’m here because of you. And I love you.”
I wait until my mind’s stable enough and finally make the call I’ve wanted to all day. Ava answers with as much excitement as my dad. “MVP! MVP! MVP!” she hollers, and I can’t help but laugh.
“Oh, man, I miss your voice.”
“I miss you!”
“How’s your day been?”
“Oh, you know, just watching my boyfriend make his dreams come true, same old,” she says, ending on a laugh. “I’m sorry about all the messages.”
“Don’t be. They… they were perfect.”
“What have you been doing since the game?”
“Just meeting and greeting, making a name for myself,” I lie. “Hanging with the guys, you know?”
“That’s good, babe! I’m glad you’re making the most of it. Are y’all going out tonight to celebrate?”
“They might be. I’m pretty beat, though. Just waiting on you to send those nudes over.”
She laughs.
“What about you? What have you been doing? How’s your mom?”
“She’s good. We’re good. Everything’s good.”
“Hey, Ava?”
“Yeah?”
“Can you just talk to me?”
“About what, babe?”
“Anything. I just want to hear your voice.”
