London from My Windows

by Mary Carter

“It’s probably around eight p.m.”

  “That’s too late.”

  “He said to Skype him anytime.”

  “I think there’s something wrong with the fact that you’re dying to see what she left me. If anything. Maybe he simply wants to fill me in on the details of her passing.”

  “You won’t know until you call.”

  “And you won’t stop hounding me until I do. So have a seat, Mother; let’s get this over with.” Ava propped her laptop on the desk and she sat in front of it, while her mother perched on the sofa in the background. She didn’t expect to reach him right away, so she was startled when she soon found herself looking at one Jasper Keyes, Esquire. He didn’t look how Ava imagined a London lawyer—barrister—would look. She thought he’d be old, and gray, and admittedly wearing one of those white wigs the English still donned in court. She even imagined him dressed like Ben Franklin, except all in red. It was a far cry from the attractive man staring at her now. He didn’t appear to be more than five years older than she was. Not that she was an expert at guessing ages, by any means. For all she knew, all that rain and fog in London kept Brits looking younger. Either way, there was something boyish and vulnerable about him. Maybe it was his wavy hair, the kind you wanted to run your hands through before handing him a brush. He looked tall, even though he was sitting down. He was wearing a navy T-shirt that made the blue of his eyes pop. People always complimented Ava on her blue eyes, but in her opinion his had hers beat. Especially with those eyelashes. Totally unfair. Perhaps his nose was a little big, and there was a hint of darkness underneath his blue eyes as if he could use a good, long nap, but there was no denying it, he was a very attractive man. He focused on Ava, but even though he smiled, he looked as if he’d just lost a dear friend.

  Gretchen sat straight up, smiled at the camera, and adjusted her bandana at least ten times.

  “First and foremost, I am so sorry for your loss,” Jasper said after they introduced themselves. He looked at Gretchen.

  “I love your accent,” Gretchen said. “Very posh.”

  “My loss,” Ava said. His eyes flicked to hers and stayed there. He was in pain. The thought hit her again. Shit. He was going to make her cry. Ava looked away. She wanted to reach out and grab him through the screen. She wanted him to bring Aunt Beverly back to life.

  “I was very close to your aunt. We even went skydiving a few weeks back.” Skydiving. Skydiving. Skydiving. With her aunt Beverly. A seventy-something-year-old woman. A million times the woman Ava would ever be. Apparently an adventurous spirit wasn’t genetic. “I jumped right after her. Screaming my bloody head off. But Beverly. She was like a bird.” He stared off into the distance. He loved her. That’s why he looked so sad. A total stranger was grieving over her aunt. She wanted to comfort him, and pummel him at the same time. Her family. Her blood. Yet he was the one who got to love her. Ava wanted to ask Jasper a million questions about her aunt. She wanted to know, urgently, if Aunt Bev hated her. Was ashamed of her. Ever thought of her. She wanted to know if Aunt Bev thought she was handicapped.

  “How did she die?” Ava had trouble spitting out the question. She didn’t want to cry in front of Jasper; what right did she have to grieve for a woman she’d never met?

  “She had terminal cancer. I think it started as breast cancer, but I’m not sure. It had spread quite rapidly. She didn’t even go for treatment.”

  “Oh God,” Ava said.

  “But she didn’t suffer long. She died in her sleep. Very, very peaceful.”

  “Unless she was having a bad dream,” Ava said.

  Jasper looked taken aback. “I don’t think she was having a bad dream.”

  “How do you know?”

  “She looked peaceful.”

  “Ava always thinks the worst,” Gretchen said.

  I don’t! Ava wanted to shout. How could her mother embarrass her like that? Ava should have never let her in on the call. “Not always.” It was the most she could sputter without tearing into her mother. Every time she even felt a tiny bit of anger it was engulfed by sadness. She hated that. She wanted to retain her anger. Diana agreed that would be healthy. But when it did come, Ava feared her rage would swallow everyone in her path.

  “I’m sorry to cut right to business, but my schedule is jammed today—”

  “Shed—jewel,” Gretchen said, trying to imitate a British accent. “Oh, I could just eat you up.”

  “Mother.”

  “Perfectly all right,” Jasper said. He held up his hand and grinned.

  “I’m afraid I don’t have long for this call either,” Ava said. She wanted her mother gone so she could sit in the bathtub, and pull the curtain around her, and cry.

  “Of course. In regards to Beverly’s estate. She has technically left you her flat in the West End of London.”

  “What?” Ava said. It couldn’t be true. Her flat? “Why?” A flat in London. She owned a flat in London?

  “You don’t sound happy,” Jasper said.

  “I’m shocked.” She was. It just didn’t seem possible. Was this a joke? A prank? Did Ava even want Beverly’s flat? She wanted Aunt Beverly. But it had to mean something, didn’t it? It meant her mother was wrong. Beverly did care. Maybe even loved her. Right?

  “Oh my God,” Gretchen said. She looked at Ava. “That was your father’s flat once upon a time ago. Oh my God.”

  Ava gave her mother a look. She was practically bouncing on the sofa. Ava would also bet that her mother hadn’t picked up on the fact that Jasper was grieving. She prayed her mother wasn’t going to say anything unkind. It was about the third time replaying Jasper’s words that something struck her. “Technically?” Ava said. “Did you say ‘technically’?”

  “And I must say, the West End of London is in high demand. It’s the liveliest part of the city—”

  “That will be lost on Ava.” Ava stepped on her mother’s foot underneath the desk. Gretchen kept smiling, but her eyelashes batted in acknowledgment.

  “Technically?” Ava said.

  Jasper looked as if he’d swallowed a snake. “I’m afraid there are some stipulations and conditions.” His voice hitched at the end.

  “What stipulations and conditions?” Ava asked.

  He held up one finger. “First. You must live in the flat for one year.” He stopped and waited.

  “I see,” Ava said. Aunt Beverly knew. She knew all about her.

  “I’ll do it,” Gretchen said. “For Ava’s sake.”

  “Alone,” Ava said. “You are not allowed to live with me.”

  “He didn’t say that,” Gretchen said.

  Ava pointed at Jasper. “He just said it. Sorry, my mum must be having trouble with your accent.”

  “I can understand you perfectly,” Gretchen said. “You have beautiful diction.”

  “Please repeat what you said, Mr. Keyes.”

  “Jasper.”

  “Jasper.” Ava lasered him with a look. He raised his eyebrows but did not speak. “Please repeat what you said about Aunt Beverly insisting I live there alone?”

  Jasper made eye contact and held it again. A spark of electricity zapped through Ava. She never felt that with Cliff. Was this just grief? Was it because Jasper was close to Aunt Beverly? She looked away before he got the wrong idea.

  He cleared his throat. “I’m afraid that is correct. The subject is to come alone. At least for the first year.”

  “Outrageous.” Gretchen advanced on the computer like she was going to manhandle it. Ava tugged on her mother until she plopped into the chair next to her.

  “We’ve lost the flat then,” Gretchen said.

  “Pardon?” Jasper said.

  “Ava can’t live there alone. Beverly knew that full well. This is a trick.”

  “Mother,” Ava said. Oh, who was she kidding? Her mother was right. Ava couldn’t go alone. She planned on saying so when Emma’s face rose before her. Don’t you see? If I don’t have my party, he wins. He might as well have snatched m
e and shoved me into a deep, dark hole. “I’ll do it.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Gretchen said. “You can’t.”

  Jasper glanced at Ava. “I believe you may visit.” Ava shrugged, then nodded. Jasper smiled. “But it’s a limited number of days—” Ava nodded even more. “How many days?” Jasper posed it as a rhetorical question. Behind her mother’s back, Ava held up three fingers. “Three days.” His tone was emphatic.

  “Three days?” Gretchen rose. “All the way to London?”

  Ava was a terrible daughter. Her mother was misguided, no question, but she loved her just as fiercely. “How dare you disrespect my mother. Make it six days or no deal.”

  Jasper’s mouth went through a few contortions. Was he trying not to laugh? “Six days.” He rubbed his chin with his hand, then looked at Gretchen. “Perhaps we’ll have to revisit the fine print.”

  “I’ll fight for you, Mother,” Ava said. Gretchen still didn’t look happy. “Or we’ll find you a nice hotel.”

  “Do they have country line dancing in London?” Gretchen asked. She hauled her leg up next to the computer and caressed her cowboy boot.

  “No,” Ava said. She shoved her mother’s boot off the table.

  “I believe they do,” Jasper said.

  “No,” Ava said.

  “I don’t even know why we’re having this conversation,” Gretchen said. “Ava can’t go to London alone. No matter what she says. She’s agora—”

  Ava lunged and shut off the monitor. “Mother! Stop!”

  “What?”

  “If I want him to know my business I’ll tell him myself.”

  “But darling, you can’t go.”

  “Why not, Mother? Because I’m handicapped?”

  “You never leave the house. And you want to move to London?”

  “I left the house today.”

  “You had a complete meltdown. You can’t even walk out to your mailbox. You had to settle for a married man because who else would date a woman who won’t go on any dates?”

  The last comment was like a slap to the face. So that’s what her mother really thought of her. Wait. She almost missed what her mother just said because of her hurt feelings. She advanced on her. “How did you know Cliff was married?”

  “What?” Gretchen wasn’t the actress in the family; she wasn’t any good at it.

  “You weren’t there when I found out. And I certainly didn’t tell you.” Gretchen simply stared. “You knew. Oh my God. You knew Cliff was married and you didn’t tell me? How? How did you know?”

  “I ran into them once.”

  “Oh my God. How long ago?”

  “It wasn’t ideal but—”

  “How long?”

  “Shortly after you started dating.”

  “Oh my God. I can’t believe you. How could you? He has two little boys. I could have wrecked their home.”

  “How? She wasn’t going to find out about you.”

  “Oh my God. Who are you?” Ava hurried toward her bedroom. Pack. She was going to pack a suitcase. She stopped. She didn’t have any suitcases. At least she had a passport. Because her father was British she had dual citizenship. She’d kept it updated over the years too. Not because she planned on going anywhere, but because she refused to lose that connection with her father. This would be the first time her passport would ever be stamped. London. The city she knew so well from books and movies. Buckingham Palace, and Kate and William, and her personal favorite, Prince Harry, because she had to love a rebel, and loads of tea, and Big Ben, and Notting Hill, and Downton Abbey, and clever little phrases like “Let’s shag,” and “Mind the Gap,” and “I’m gobsmacked.” Winston Churchill, and rain and fog, and the Tower of London—“Off with their heads!” Jack the Ripper and “London Is Burning” and “London Bridge is falling down,” and rats, and pigeons, and Monty Python, and curried chips, the Thames, the Tube, and the plague. Ava’s breath was starting to catch. Dots, she was seeing colored dots.

  Oh, God. Her mother was right. She wouldn’t be able to do it. How do you know if you don’t try? Scrooge made a monumental change, didn’t he? Please, sir, a few pence for the crippled lad? It was the city of her father. Maybe she’d feel close to him there. Get a little piece of him back. One thing was for sure. She couldn’t stay here. Not anymore. She whirled around and headed for the kitchen. Her mother stayed on her heels.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I told him not to hurt you—”

  Ava opened the cabinet under the sink and fished out the box of extra-large garbage bags. Did the airport have any regulations about using Hefty garbage bags as a suitcase? Ava headed back to the bedroom, and once again her mother followed. Ava flung open the top dresser drawer and started throwing clothes into the bag.

  “You can’t pack your clothes in a garbage bag.”

  “Watch me.” Ava grabbed a handful of panties and bras, and stuffed them in.

  “I’ll get you a suitcase.”

  “Now, can you get it now?”

  “It’s been a long day. You need to rest.” Her mother approached, arms outstretched. Ava avoided them.

  “I need to pack.”

  “You won’t even make it to the airport.”

  Ava continued to throw clothes into the bag. She lifted it and a bra popped out. In a matter of seconds, the bag had a giant rip in the bottom. Hefty, her ass. “Piece of shit.” Ava threw the bag to the floor. Her mother was right. This was stupid. She needed a proper suitcase.

  “You don’t have a plane ticket.”

  “I’ll get one.”

  “This isn’t the way to do this. You need a proper plan.”

  “I’ll formulate one. Diana will help me. I’ll get Xanax.”

  “Xanax? That’s your solution?”

  “It helps.”

  “You’ll get addicted.”

  “You say that all the time. You’re the reason I’ve been afraid to take Xanax. I can’t listen to you anymore. I should have it on hand—I should have it now.” Maybe, just maybe, I could even handle you if I had kept up my prescription of Xanax.

  “Do you want to add being an addict to your troubles?”

  Ava looked at her mother for a long time. She rarely ever confronted Gretchen. She realized a long time ago that it wouldn’t change a single thing. Whoever Ava was, whoever her mother was, both completely imperfect, they were never going to change. Ava either accepted her mother for who she was now or wouldn’t have a mother. But this was too much. Ava needed her to believe in her. Like the mayor’s wife believed in her daughter. “You don’t want me to get better, do you?”

  “How can you say such a rotten thing? After all I’ve done for you? I hope you have kids of your own one day just so you know how it feels to have an ungrateful child.”

  “I can’t help it. You’re pushing me down like one of those crabs in a bucket, when you should be pulling me up.”

  “I don’t get the seafood reference.”

  “Crabs in a bucket. You know. How one poor little crab tries to crawl out.” Ava mimicked with her fingers. “But just when he gets to the top and you think the poor bastard is going to get free, the rest of the bastards yank him back down?” Ava yanked the imaginary crab back to the bottom of the bucket.

  “I can’t stand it when you use bad language. Certainly not the Queen’s English, my dear.”

  “You’re not listening. You missed the point entirely.” God, nobody could push her buttons like her mother. Ava was so angry she was starting to shake.

  “You’re a crab; I heard you. If by that you mean crabby, I certainly agree. But I’m not the one yanking you down. Forgive me if I think you should start with your mailbox before tackling the UK.”

  “I’m doing this for Aunt Beverly.”

  “That woman never cared about us a day in her life!”

  Ava shot off the bed. “She never cared about you. Not me. You.”

  Her mother’s eyes welled with tears. Oh, God. It was a million times worse hurting he
r mother than it was getting hurt. This was why she never confronted anybody. “Do what you want,” Gretchen said, picking up the bra on the floor and folding it. “You always do.”

  “I’m sorry I said that. Okay? I’m not going because I want to hurt you. I’m going for me. Because not going would be like hurling myself into a deep, dark hole and never, ever coming out.”

  “How is that any different than what you’ve been doing your entire life?”

  Ava was wrong. That hurt worse. She bolted from the living room and fled to her bathroom. She slammed the door behind her. Her mother could let herself out. Ava sat in the bathtub, fully clothed, and pulled the curtain closed. Breathe, Ava, breathe. Aunt Beverly was dead. Her father was dead. Her mother resented her. Had her life been a deep, dark hole? It was hard to argue with. But she could change. People changed, didn’t they? At the least, she could try. She was going to London. She was going to crawl out of the bucket if it killed her.

  Gretchen picked up her purse near the computer. That woman. Of course she would find a way to stick it to Gretchen from the grave. She never liked her, never approved of her, did everything she could to convince Bertie not to marry her. Well, he married her anyway, and so Beverly threatened to never speak to him again. Then, after Bertie died, she had the gall to threaten to fight for custody. Saying that Gretchen couldn’t adequately deal with Ava’s condition. That a change of scenery might be good for her. She practically came out and said that Gretchen wasn’t equipped to help her own daughter. The nerve of her! This coming from the woman who had never even met Ava. Gretchen didn’t like to be crude, but that woman sure had a pair of balls. A hairy pair of balls. Oh, the fury she incited in Gretchen. It wasn’t healthy then, and she could still feel the rage coursing through her veins now. Miss Famous Actress. Thinking her money could trump a mother’s love.

  Oh, the drama. It never ended. It still hadn’t ended. Someone cleared his or her throat. Gretchen started. Who was that? Was someone in the living room? She whirled around, but saw no one. “Blimey,” she heard a male voice say. It came out of the computer. She turned on the monitor. Jasper Keyes stared back at her.

  “You’re still there? How can you still be there?”