by Cat Mann
****
“Jesus Christ!” My limbs flung forward, jolting me awake. The sensation of falling joined the terror of my recurring nightmare. The press of Ava’s body on top of me gave me peace. The sight of her in my tee shirt and boxers gave me comfort. Pieces of Ava’s pink lace and garters were shredded and shoved between the sheets and under pillows. A rusty, dull flavor lingered in my mouth from the blood drawn by her bite to my lip. My palm cupped her belly and Ava’s eyelashes tickled my chest as she woke. “Hey,” she rasped, “morning.”
“Morning. Sleep well?”
She nodded and the baby bumped just under my hand.
“Whoa.” I pulled back, still surprised by the feeling. “I think Cal is hungry.”
“Yes, and so is Ava,” she said just as Max stormed down the hall in a speedy pursuit to find us. “And so is Max.”
“I’ll make something quick to help pacify the mob. Meet you in kitchen?”
“I’ll be down in five.”
Catching Max by the baby’s room, I scooped him up and tossed him over my shoulder, recruiting him for breakfast duty. Going on five days, and still no talking. He relied solely on hand gestures, head nods, smiles and frowns. His doctor and speech therapist both suggested a return of the slight voluntary mutism he had experienced before. It had been caused by a traumatic experience then …and now, too, the doctors believed...in this case, finding his cat bloody, cut up and barely alive. That was enough to make any child struggle to find a coping mechanism. They were optimistic since his earlier episode had lasted only three days, and believed he would give up after a while and begin talking again. We were told to wait things out, give him time, comfort and support. It was hard not to let him see our worry. It was even harder not to beg him for one tiny word.
Ava eased into a chair at the table five minutes later and spooned cold cereal into her mouth.
“How was the movie?” I asked and Max gave me a thumbs up – still no talking.
“Did Papus fall asleep in the theater?”
He nodded.
“Did Yaya get mad at him?”
Max nodded and smiled.
“I bet she did. He always did that when I was a kid, too. Listen, I got you two a present. It’s for our anniversary.”
“Our anniversary isn’t until tomorrow.” Ava crunched a sugary fruit loop.
“I know but you gave me your gift early and I need you to have mine now – it's time sensitive.”
Ava scowled at me. “Ari, you get me too many things. I know it's our anniversary and all, but you have already gone way overboard this year. Remember? We talked about this…as long as I have you, I’m happy.”
“I remember. It’s just paper, Ava. This present is fun – not the least bit over the top or extravagant. I promise you will love this.”
She scrunched her nose.
“I’ll tell you what, take the gift, open it, and if you think it is too much or out of line or whatever – I will just throw it away and you can pretend that I didn’t give you anything. No feelings hurt. You have to at least open it and see what it is first. And like I said, the gift is for Max, too.”
She eyed me and I slid the narrow, thin envelope across the table to her. Her fingers strummed the tabletop until she finally gave up and took the envelope.
Peeking inside, Ava’s lips pulled upwards into a happy smile. “Baseball tickets?”
“Angels versus the Texas Rangers, noon game today in Anaheim. What do you say, Ava? It’s just a silly baseball game, not even any teams we like. Will you go with me? Max?”
“Yes! Best present ever!” Ava cheered.
Exasperated, I pointed across the kitchen at her watch that had sat untouched for days. “That is Harry Winston, Ava!”
“Whoever the heck that is,” she teased me.