by McLean, Jay
“I guess it comes with the near-death experience.” I regret it the moment the words are out, but I stand tall, act defiant. Because even though I know what I’m saying is hurting her, she needs to see the effect her choices have made on my life. The hours of therapy, the anxiety, the constant fear of being left alone. For years, I cried, holding on to Dad’s leg every morning he left me at daycare or at school, and even now… there are moments when he’s not home when I think he should be, and I call just to make sure he’ll be back. Fifteen years of this shit, and I…
I don’t know why I’m here.
I should go home.
To my dad.
To Ava.
“You know what?” I say. “I think I’m just going to go to my room. It’s been a long day.”
“All right, son.”
“Don’t call me that.” Aggravation forms a knot in my stomach. “I’m not…” I shake my head. “Bye.”
Eyes glazed, she stares through me, nodding. “Goodbye, Connor.”
Ava
After what feels like an eternity, I finally feel comfortable enough to “use” the present. I go to my room and use it in private, just in case it’s inappropriate, because who the hell knows with Connor.
I sit in the middle of my bed with the jar on my lap while darkness surrounds me. Pathetically giddy, I can’t help but giggle when I flick the switch. A buzz sounds from inside the jar, and it takes a moment for something to happen, but when it does, my jaw drops, and my heart soars. Tiny specs of light glow from the jar, hitting the walls of the room, circling all around me. “Fireflies,” I whisper, watching them float across the room. And then the music starts, “Fireflies” by Owl City. I’d told him about that camping trip with my mom, but it was so long ago, and how… how did he remember? How did he do this? Tears fill my eyes while elation fills my heart. “Mama!” I leave the jar on my bed and rush to the living room. “Mama, look!” I grasp her hand, force her onto her feet.
Trevor stands, too. “What is it?”
“Look!” I practically drag Mom into my room and wait for Trevor to step inside before closing the door. “Look! And listen.”
It takes a second before Mom gasps, “Ava, it’s our song.”
“It’s our song!” I laugh out.
“And fireflies.”
“So many of them! Whenever we want them, Mama! Connor—” I break off on a cry, the weight of his gift hitting me right in the chest. “He gave us a do-over.”
“He gave us a do-over,” Mom repeats, finding my hand in the darkness. “Oh, Ava. It’s beautiful.”
“I know.”
She squeezes my hand. “Let’s go!”
“What? Where?”
“Come on!”
Trevor opens the door for the both of us, and I quickly flick off the switch on the jar, not wanting to waste its battery. Now, Mom drags me by my arm… through the house and out the front door. She doesn’t hesitate, not even for a second as she calls over her shoulder to Trevor, “Open the garage.”
Trevor complies, and she starts rummaging through all the stuff we wanted to keep but had no real use for. “What are you looking for?” I ask.
“The tent!”
“The tent?” I repeat.
She smiles over at me. “Ava, if we’re going to have a do-over, we’re going to do it right!”
Trevor chuckles. “I think it’s over here.” He shifts around some boxes and uncovers our old camping gear.
“Yes!” Mom yells, arms raised in victory.
I laugh, my heart aching in all the best possible ways. “Where are we going to camp, Mama? This is crazy.”
“It doesn’t matter where, Ava! As long as we’re together!” She looks at Trevor. “All three of us. Me and my children!” I don’t miss the widening of Trevor’s eyes or the way her words have him standing taller. She’s always referred to him as my brother, but never as her child.
“Grab the sleeping bags,” she orders me, and of course, I do as she says, laughing when I see her throw the tent onto the unkempt grass of our front yard.
She tries to unzip the bag for the tent, but she’s struggling with just one hand, and she starts laughing—the hysterical kind that has me doing the same. It takes three people over a half hour to put up a tent that’s at least thirty years old. It doesn’t help that we only have the streetlamps to guide us. We all three stand back when it’s up and then burst out laughing at the sight of it. It’s obvious rodents have gotten to it since we used it last because there are giant holes where they shouldn’t be. “It’s so sad-looking,” I say through a giggle.
“It’s perfect,” Trevor says.
Mom nudges my side. “Go get your gift.”
I run into the house and grab the jar, then run back out, holding it to my heart. “Got it!”
Mom and Trevor are throwing the sleeping bags into the tent, and I don’t know if she plans on all of us sleeping in there for the night, but I don’t think it’s possible. Still, I crawl in with them and set the jar in the middle, then flick it back on. When the music starts, Mom begins to sing, so loud and so free, and I join in with her. We’re off-key and obnoxiously loud, and I look over at Trevor, who shrugs, yells, “I don’t know the words!”
The tent vibrates, and I think we’re the ones causing it, but then something wet hits my forehead. I look up through the giant hole above me. Another droplet. “Oh, my God, it’s raining…”
Mom cackles. “It really is a do-over!” She takes my hand again. “Let’s go.”
I follow her out of the tent, ignoring the rain now pounding on my shoulders. She starts singing again, louder than before, pulling me to her as she sways me in her arms, dancing to a rhythm only we can hear. Trevor stays in the tent while we dance around him, our laughter filling my heart with joy. The rain only gets heavier, until the ground beneath us turns to mud. Mom cackles when she falls to the ground. Lying on her back, she swings her arms and legs back and forth. “What the hell are you doing?” I laugh out.
“Making mud angels!”
I stomp around her, splashing mud all over us, my arms swinging wildly as I continue to sing.
We needed this.
God, did we need it.
Just one night. One moment to forget everything else, and just like all the times before, Connor’s the one to give it to us… even from all the way in Georgia.
Neighbors turn their porch lights on, opening their doors to see what all the laughing and singing and yelling are about. I don’t care what they see, and Mom—she’s so blissfully unaware, and I love that she is. It’s been eight fucking years since I’ve seen her like this, and I want to hold on to the moment for as long as I can. Mom starts to sing again, screaming the lyrics as she gets to her feet, mud caked all through her hair, through her clothes. She skips around the front yard, her arms flailing. Our next-door neighbor on the opposite side of Connor comes out of his house, his screen door slamming against the tired siding. “Get your drunk ass back inside! You’re disturbing the peace!”
“She’s not drunk, you piece of shit!” I yell back.
“Ignore him, Ava,” Trevor says, coming out of the tent. He palms the small of Mom’s back and holds her hand, and they dance together, a pathetic attempt at a tango that has them both howling with laughter.
The piece-of-shit neighbor’s on the phone now, and more people have come out of their houses, watching our joy from the shelter of their porches. I grab my gift, not wanting it to get ruined in the rain, and bring it to the porch, and when I turn back around, the street is lit up by red and blue lights. “Trevor, stop!” I yell, and he’s too busy laughing to hear me.
I rush toward them, glaring at my neighbor. “The cops are here!”
Mom’s head throws back with her cackle. “What are they going to do, Ava?” she shouts over the rain. “Handcuff me?”
Two uniformed officers get out of the cruiser, while Trevor and I stand side by side, ignoring Mom as she continues to sing.
“Is
there a problem, officers?” I ask when they approach.
They’re two males. The younger of the two is tall, a solid wall of muscle, and the other one’s shorter and rounder around the gut. The tall one says, “We had a noise complaint.”
I shake my head. “We were just out here—”
“In the rain?” the short one cuts in.
I nod, wipe the water from my eyes. “Is that illegal?”
“No,” says the taller one, and I can already tell he’s the nicer of the two. I look at his badge—L. Preston—and he must know my brother because he asks, “Trevor?”
“Hey, Leo.”
“You know each other?” I ask, looking between them. Behind me, Mom’s still singing, still blissfully happy.
“He’s one of Tom Preston’s boys.”
“Oh.” That explains the name.
“Look,” says Leo, “we have to come out if there’s a complaint made, but it looks like y’all are just having—”
“They’re disturbing the neighborhood!” my neighbor yells. I’ve never even spoken to him before, and I don’t understand what the fuck his problem is. “Look at all the people watching! They’re all scared. Who knows what that drunk bitch will do—”
“Don’t fucking call her that!” I shout.
“Ava,” Trevor sighs, shaking his head. “He’s not worth it.”
Our neighbor laughs. “Yeah, listen to that—”
I don’t hear the word, but I know what he said. It’s prejudice. Bigoted. Rage fills my bloodline as I take a step forward. “You racist piece of—”
Trevor holds me back, covers my mouth with his palm. But I’m not the one he needs to worry about. Mom screams, pushing past me. Within milliseconds, she has the guy by his collar, his face an inch from hers. “What the fuck did you call my son?!”
“You heard me, you crazy bitch.”
It seems so slow—at least in my head—the way her head tilts back… right before she slams it in his face. Blood pools from the guy’s nose, and Mom doesn’t release him. She does it again. And again. And I can hear the screams of the people around me, see the ones herding their children back into their homes. Trevor releases me, but it’s too damn late.
“I want her arrested!” the fucker orders, and fat cop moves around me, his grip harsh on Mom’s shoulders. She turns to him. “Don’t you dare touch me!” She swings at his head, and it’s the moment everything speeds up again. His baton comes out, strikes the back of her leg, and she falls to the ground with a wail of a cry. She’s yelling, words incoherent, and my heart falters in my chest. She’s kicking, and she’s screaming, and I know that she’s begging, but no one else would, because no one else knows her like I do. A flash of white flickers near her stomach—a taser—and I come to. Scream at the top of my lungs. “Don’t hurt her!” I can’t see through my tears, can’t hear through my cries as she gets picked up, dragged to the car. Leo Preston is beside me now, cursing under his breath. I rush to the car, trying to pry the officer’s hands off my mother. “Leave her. She didn’t do anything!”
“She attacked me!” the fucker of a neighbor yells, holding a hand to his nose.
“Fuck you!” I scream.
Trevor’s behind me, pulling me away, as the cop gets Mom in the car and closes the door. She sits perfectly still, her chin in the air. But when she turns to me, my blood runs cold. There’s no emotion in her expression. No life in her eyes. Another set of lights appears, this one from an ambulance. They stop in front of the cop car, on the wrong side of the road. Connor’s dad hops out first, his eyes finding mine. “Ava? What happened?”
I look back at my mother while Trevor releases me slowly. Hand raised, I hold my palm to the window, my vision blurred by the tears, and I croak, breathless, “Mama…”
Connor
Connor: Hmm. I feel like your lack of contact means maybe you hate the present… I hope you realize it’s not just an old mayonnaise container.
I stare at the last text between Ava and me. I’d sent it over an hour ago, giving her at least two hours of darkness to open the thing. She hasn’t responded yet, and so I send another one.
Connor: Did you switch it on? Damn, I hope the battery didn’t die. It’s brand new…
After another solid hour of no response, I call her, but it goes to voicemail, and so I order room service just to take my mind off it. But it doesn’t seem to help. Anxious energy flows through my veins, beating hard against my flesh. My brain starts running circles, every possible scenario racing through my thoughts. I know things haven’t been the best with us lately, but she seemed better today. At least… I thought so.
It’s midnight when I try calling her again, but there’s no answer. I lie in bed with the TV on, not really paying attention. Somehow, I must fall asleep, because when I wake next, it’s close to 3 a.m. The only alerts on my phone are from my dad. I shoot off a quick text, let him know I’m okay and that I crashed early, and then I call Ava.
It goes straight to voicemail.
This time, I leave a message, my doubt making my voice crack: “Hey, babe. I’m not sure what’s going on there, but I’ve been messaging and calling and… and I hope everything’s okay. I’m sorry that I wasn’t able to be there for your birthday, and I hope that’s not the reason you’re… ignoring me, I guess. I know that things have been a little… rocky with us lately. A lot’s going on in both our lives right now, and maybe that’s why we’re not connecting as well as we should be…” I swallow the knot in my throat. “And I know it might be hard to believe right now given what I’ve asked of you, but… I just need you to know that I love you.” I pause a beat. “God, I love you so much. With everything inside me… forever.” Then I heave out a breath, contain my emotions. “Ava, please don’t give up on us.”
Chapter 34
Connor
My mom wants to have breakfast. I tell her I can’t, that I’m busy—it’s only a half lie. Truth is, I don’t feel like I have anything left to say to her. And, honestly, after the night I’ve had, I don’t think I could stomach anything.
I couldn’t get back to sleep. Not even a little bit. I tried calling Ava all night, but nothing changed. Either her phone’s off or she’s blocked my number completely… and I don’t know which one scares me more.
I know I should go home, but leaving early would cause too many questions. I’ve created a web of fucking lies, and I’m the one trapped. I stay in my hotel room until it’s the time I told Dad and Ava I’d be landing, and I call Ava first—still nothing—and then Dad. “Are you on your way?” is the first thing he says, his voice hoarse, weak.
My dread is instant. “Yeah. What’s going on?”
“You haven’t spoken to Ava?”
My pulse spikes. “No, I can’t get a hold of her. Why? What happened?”
He sighs, long and loud. “Come home, son. I’ll explain everything when you get here.”
The roads seem to go on forever. Every light is red. Every car in front of me is going ten miles under the limit. I once told Ava I’d travel through time to get to her, but time seems non-existent, and the nearer I get, I feel like the distance between us only grows.
I was a phone call away. A text. I check myself there, because it’s not about me, and whatever it is, Dad knows. He’s involved. And that can only mean one thing…
I finally make it home, and my truck has barely come to a stop when I step out, hesitant about where to go first. Looking toward Ava’s, I notice Trevor’s truck’s in the driveway, but besides that, there’s nothing to indicate anything’s wrong. Dad makes the choice for me by opening our front door, his hand gripping the back of his neck. “Let me to talk to you first, Connor.”
I sit on the couch, stand up, pace, sit back down, and with every word that falls from Dad’s lips, my heart sinks farther into my stomach, anchored there by the painful twists and turns.
“I should’ve been there,” I whisper. I could’ve stopped it. But I wasn’t. Because for one night, my selfish ne
eds outweighed my love for her. It was her fucking birthday; it should’ve been magical.
Dad stands beside me as I knock on Ava’s door. Trevor opens it, his phone held to his ear. Eyes tired, he looks up at me, mumbles, “She’s in her room.”
Without a word, I pass him and go straight to her. I stop when I see her, my hand still on the doorknob. On her bed, she sits in the corner, her back to the wall, knees raised. She looks up, her mouth parting. A lump forms in my throat when I see her expression… as if in a single night, hope lived and died inside her. A tiny hiccup forces movement in her shoulders, and I hate myself. I’m quick to get to her, to wrap her in my arms and shield her from the dangers of the world around her. I want to protect her, to love her. She crawls onto my lap, wordless, and places her ear to my chest, listening. And I pray to God she finds what she’s looking for, what she needs. Her gaze lifts, her head tilted, brow furrowed in confusion as she looks at me, her hands clawing at my jacket to remove it. With unsteady breaths, she goes back again, her hand shaking as her finger taps, taps, taps. “Where is it?” she whispers, and everything inside me stills.
She removes my sweatshirt now, another layer to help her heal, but when her cheek presses to my chest again, it’s still not enough. Lifting my T-shirt until it’s skin-on-skin, I watch the rise and fall of her chest, the way her fingers dig into my flesh. Panic forms in her words when she cries, “Where is it?”
The magic… it’s there. It has to be. “Ava, it’s there…”
“It’s not!” She pulls away, tears welling in her eyes.
“No,” I rush out, my own alarm making me grasp her head, pull her into me again. “I swear to you; it’s there.”
“It’s not there, Connor!” she yells. “It’s not there! It’s not there! It’s not there!”
I bring her closer again, hold her tighter, my heart collapsing in my ribcage. Dad and Trevor are at her door now, watching, waiting. And I recognize the moment Ava falls apart in my arms, the moment the heartache becomes too much, and the cries become so heavy that no sound can accompany them. I rock her gently, whispered hushes floating out with every one of my breaths. Tears blur my vision, and I look up at Dad, fear filling my airways. “I don’t know what to do.”
