by S. J. Bishop
Sighing, I went back inside, stopping at the table where the five-year-old monster had conducted his assault. They’d left cash for their bill. Cash usually meant a bigger tip. But these people—two dollars! Cheapskates. I clocked out and went to my locker, switching out uniforms.
"See you tomorrow, Ava," Mr. Brewster called as I left.
"Yeah, good night."
My car barely started as I stepped on the gas. I sat in it a minute, letting my head clear. My phone rang and I jumped. My mother’s voice sounded in my ears as I picked up the receiver.
"Ava?" my mom asked, breathless. There were tears in her voice.
"Mom? What’s wrong?"
"Oh honey, it’s Lily. We’re at the hospital. Something..." Mom choked on her words. "Something’s wrong with her. I don’t know what. She couldn’t breathe and I—" her voice cut off.
"I’m on my way." I peeled out of the parking lot and called Y-Mart, praying that my boss was in a good mood. When I got to the hospital, I ran inside to find my mother and father sitting in the waiting area. Dad’s face looked drawn and tired. I’d never seen him look so upset, except perhaps for on the night I’d told my parents I was pregnant.
"Mrs. Hart?" a doctor asked as he approached.
"Miss," I said, extending my hand. "What’s going on? How’s Lily?"
My heart was pounding in my chest. Lily had been born a month premature, and it seemed like she’d been plagued with illness ever since. A hospital visit was not unheard of, but still, Lily had seemed fine this morning.
"Miss Hart," the doctor said, folding a clipboard under his arm. "I’m Dr. Martin. I’m head of thoracic surgery here at Dover Medical. I’m sorry to have to tell you this. We’ve run some tests, and your daughter has a congenital heart defect. It’s something she was born with."
I heard my mother gasp. "I always knew there was something wrong with that child. You should have taken better care of her when she was a baby."
I was grateful when Dad told Mom to hush. Tears threatened to spill over, but I fought them back. By now I was used to my mom’s tirades, but that didn’t make them any easier. Mom had never forgiven me for getting pregnant and blowing my scholarship. I suspected her intolerance of the situation was made that much worse when I refused to divulge the identity of Lily’s father.
"So what does this mean?" I asked Dr. Martin. I wanted to see Lily now; I wanted to grab her and hold her tight and tell her everything was going to be fine, but first she needed to know that it really was.
"I’m afraid there’s very little we can do without surgery," the doctor said. His eyes glanced up and down at my Y-Mart smock. "The surgery can be rather expensive and depending on your health insurance, you might have to pay for most of it out-of-pocket. But without it, Lily doesn’t stand much of a chance."
"Are you saying she could die?" The breath stopped in my lungs.
"Miss Hart," Dr. Martin said, looking solemn. "I’m saying Lily will die, unless she has immediate surgery to correct the condition."
2
Carter
I stepped out of the NFL Commissioner’s office to a round of flashes and what seemed like several thousand voices surging towards me at once.
"Carter! Carter!" one reporter yelled. "How do you feel about the commissioner’s decision to suspend you?"
I tried to scramble away from him but was confronted by another one. "Carter! Do you agree with the decision? Do you think you deserve to be suspended?"
These guys were relentless. I turned again and was grateful to see Coach stepping through the crowd. He put an arm around me and we hurried to the waiting limo.
"No more questions at this time," Coach said.
I dove through the open door of the limo and sat back in the seat, closing my eyes. Coach got in beside me. He slapped the back of my head and my eyes snapped open.
"What the hell is the matter with you?" Coach asked.
"What do you mean?"
Coach tossed a paper at me and I picked it up. The headline blared back at me, making his face burn: “Bad Boy of the NFL Faces Suspension.”
"Bad boy of the NFL huh?" I grinned. "That’s a new one."
"I don’t think there’s anything funny about it," Coach said. "Two weeks you’re off. Two weeks your team has to play without their star quarterback. You let them down; you let me down."
My eyes fell towards the ground as the limo moved through the curving streets of San Francisco.
"I know, and I feel bad about it."
"Do you?" Coach asked, his eyes thick with anger. Coach was a retired football player and still as big as he’d been when he’d played the game himself. His presence in a room always commanded respect.
"Of course I do."
"Then why do you keep pulling stupid stunts like this latest one that got you pulled from the game? Why are you beating up guys in bars and getting arrested?"
"Oh but Coach, this guy had it coming. He was hitting on Olivia right in front of me."
Coach sneered. "Olivia Kelly? I thought you two broke up."
"We did, but that was a month ago. You know how it goes."
Coach leaned back in his seat. "I never met a couple that went more out of their way to egg each other on than the two of you. Do you even like that girl? You got a million other girls from what I’ve seen. Why do you keep going back to Olivia?"
I had to laugh. "You’ve seen her. She’s a model. A supermodel. Why shouldn’t I go out with her?"
"Is that all you care about? Looks? Why not find a girl with looks and brains? I know it’s a rare combo, but they’re out there. Believe me."
For a brief second, Ava flashed through my mind. I pushed the image away. That had been a lifetime ago.
"You need a woman that’s gonna get you to settle down. Not one that’s gonna get you tossed out of a game you’ve spent your life trying to get into."
"It wasn’t Olivia’s fault. The guy at that bar—"
"There’s always gonna be some jerk at a bar or some guy that wants to prove he’s better than you. You’ve gotta learn to let that shit go. How’s your hand?"
I looked down at my hand and made a fist, wincing slightly. Coach caught it.
"See that?" Coach said. "You couldn’t even play tomorrow if you weren’t suspended." He sighed. "Look, your sister’s getting married soon right? To that producer?"
"Director," I corrected him. "Erik Rudolphe. He directed the last picture Hannah did."
"Right. Well, my advice to you is to go home and get your head screwed on straight. Knock those cobwebs out and come back in two weeks ready to work your ass off. Got it?"
I nodded. I’d been planning on going back to Dover Chase for Hannah’s wedding. Maybe I would leave early. Maybe Coach was right and it was time I finally grew up.
3
Ava
"Eskimo kisses," Lily said, giggling. She looked tired and her face was pale.
I kissed her forehead and wiggled my nose against Lily’s.
No matter how many times I’d done it, it never got easier to leave Lily to go to work. "I’ll be home as soon as I can." She smiled and closed her eyes.
Mom sat in the living room with a scowl on her face. "What’s the matter with you?" she demanded. "How could you not have insurance?"
"I do have insurance. Sort of." Actually, I had had insurance for Lily just a few months ago, but I’d been forced to let it expire. Even with the tax credit I’d been receiving, I still couldn’t afford to keep it. I figured it would be cheaper to pay the penalty tax for not having insurance than it would to keep the crappy insurance I had. Now, however, I wanted to go back in time to reverse that foolish decision.
"If you had just gone to Harvard—"
Oh, here we go. Thankfully Dad put a restraining hand on her.
"I have to go. I’m gonna be late. Thanks for watching Lily." I ran out of their house. My parents had insisted Lily stay at their place this evening instead of them going to mine. They said there were too many bugs
and bacteria creeping around at my place. That was probably why Lily was so sick, according to Mom. It stung that she was constantly finding things to criticize about my lifestyle. It seemed that by now I would have paid back the debt of her disappointment in me for choosing to have Lily instead of going to Harvard,
When I got to work, I was immediately greeted by Myron. "Hi Ava," he said.
"Hi Myron. Almost through for the night?" Please let him have worked an earlier shift.
"Oh no, I’m just getting here." He smiled with his big, goofy grin. He was older than me by a year or two and had big patches of oily skin that never seemed to go away.
"Oh. Great."
"Hey, how’s Lily? I heard about what happened."
I hesitated. "Not so good. She needs an operation."
Myron’s eyes widened. "Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do?" I relaxed a little and smiled at him. Despite his sometimes frustrating antics, he was a good person. Not everyone in this town was as nice to me as Myron was.
Even though I’d been out of high school when I got pregnant, it had come so quickly after graduation and changed my plans so drastically, that Dover Chase residents hadn’t stopped talking about me since. I was known as the girl who’d ruined my life by having premarital sex. I’d become a tale that parents told their children about. "Look what happens to you if you have sex before marriage. You turn into Ava Hart."
It wasn’t that particular side of my reputation that bothered me, it was the side that painted me out to be some kind of small town slut. Carter was the only person I had ever been with and it had only been that one time. I hated knowing that my parents, particularly my father, heard those rumors.
I’d never told one person who Lily’s father was. I didn’t want to ruin things for Carter. He’d just gotten drafted and his picture had been splashed across every paper in America, especially the ones here in Pennsylvania. There had been one night, just before Lily was born, when, feeling sorry for myself having to go through so much alone, I’d decided to tell him. I’d thought after getting drafted to San Francisco he must have changed his number and was amazed when it still worked.
A woman had answered.
"Hello? The woman asked.
So I hesitated. "Um, hi. Is Carter there?"
"Yeah, but he’s in the shower right now. Can I take a message?"
"Who is this?" I had asked, knowing I shouldn’t, that the answer would only hurt.
"Olivia Kelly. His girlfriend. Who’s this?"
I’d realized I had no business butting into his life, and I hung up.
I went into the backroom, followed by Myron—of course—and pulled on my Piccadilly’s shirt over my own T-shirt. Terri was back there too, getting ready. "Hey, Ava," she said.
"Hi, Terri."
"Hey, Myron, can you do me a favor?" Terri asked. "Could you check and let me know which section I’m covering tonight?"
"Sure," Myron said. "I’ll check for you too, Ava." He hurried off, eager to please.
"Listen," Terri said, grabbing my arm and spinning me around. "Look at this. I saw it when he opened his locker earlier."
Terri opened Myron’s locker to reveal several pictures of me staring back at them. I was dumbfounded. I knew he liked me, but this was a bit much. Terri quickly shut the locker as Myron returned.
The three of us walked onto the floor and took our sections. My head was spinning. I was worried about Lily, and now on top of that I had to be worried about Myron too. I would make it clear that I didn’t like him like that. I was so flustered by what Terri had just shown me that I didn’t even notice the man at the table who’s order I had just asked to take.
"Ava?" the man said. His voice was deep and sultry and sparked something that had lain dormant in me for the last three years. I looked up and saw Carter staring back at me.
"Carter!" I could feel the blood draining from my face. "Wh-what are you doing here?" My head spun around to look for cameras. Was this some kind of reality TV show prank?
"I came back for Hannah’s wedding."
Of course. How could I have been so stupid? People in Dover Chase had been buzzing about Hannah’s wedding for the last month. Celebrities had been calling and booking rooms all over town. I’d tried to ignore it all. I hadn’t talked to Hannah in the three years since graduation. I’d seen her name in the papers and had been to every one of her films, but I’d been too embarrassed with my own life to call Hannah up.
"How are you?" Carter asked.
"Good, I’m good." Why was I lying? This must be some sort of sign. I should tell Carter the truth about Lily and ask him for the money for the surgery. Here was my big chance to fix things. I opened my mouth to do just that but my throat dried up and I couldn’t get the words out. "Are you here with anyone?" I finally managed to say. "A girlfriend?" Gosh, why did I say that? Like it was any of my business.
"No," Carter replied. "Just myself." He hesitated. "I’m not seeing anyone right now."
"Oh."
Tell him tell him!
"Er, I’ve gotta go." It was too much for me to face him now. I practically ran away from the table and searched for Terri. She was all too happy to cover Carter’s table. I felt like a complete idiot. Not only had I acted like a weirdo, I had just failed Lily. I had to make this right fast.
4
Carter
I left Piccadilly’s having barely touched my food. I didn’t know why seeing Ava again should upset me so much. My head felt funny, like I’d just stepped off a roller coaster. Maybe having a few beers would set me right.
I stopped at Conrad’s, a bar older than Dover Chase itself. At least that’s how it felt walking in there. The paint was peeling. The room was dark. It was like being in a cave. Hadn’t changed one bit. It was a place my friends and I had avoided growing up, except of course for the rite of passage all Dover Chasers went through when they turned twenty-one—Conrad’s was a pit stop on a short list of must-hit bars on that magical of all birthdays. Now, it seemed like the perfect hole-in-the-wall to escape to.
I started with a vodka shot then pounded back my first beer. I sipped on my second, listening to the sounds of people talking and glasses clinking. There was something very soothing about it all—until I heard Ava’s name. I turned to see a group of three guys, celebrating that very rite of passage I’d just been reminiscing about, sitting in a corner with smirks on their faces.
"I went to high school with her. She was a lot prettier then."
"Yeah, getting knocked up just sucks the life out of a girl."
"I nailed her."
The other two guys looked at their third companion with disbelief. "You nailed Ava Hart? When?"
"Back in high school. She nailed just about our whole class." The dirtbag leaned in conspiratorially towards his two friends. "I hear she still likes to play around, but now she expects dinner or something in return. She used to be a lot easier."
"So you could be that kid’s father?" said one of the guys, his eyes widening.
"Hell no. I used a rubber. Besides, that slut nailed everybody. Who knows who that kid’s dad is. Probably some bum she met in an alley somewhere."
The three guys started laughing. I clenched my hand into a fist. Pushing my stool out, I walked to their table. I knew perfectly well that they were lying. Ava had been a virgin when I’d been with her.
I paused halfway to their table, something was tickling the back of my head. When I’d been with her... which was when exactly? Three years ago? How old was her daughter? Then I heard more laughter from the table and felt a blinding rage take over all else.
"Excuse me," The dimwits looked up at me, their jaws hanging open.
"Carter Stone!" one of them said. "You’re Carter Stone."
"That’s right," I smiled. "And I have a favor to ask you guys."
They looked at me, grinning. It was going to feel so good to see that look change when I pummeled them.
"Sure, anything. Hey, sit down. We’ll
buy you a drink."
"I don’t drink with scum."
Their faces changed from smiles to confusion.
"The favor I’m asking for, is that the three of you shut the hell up before I pound your heads into that table."
The guys stared back at me, shocked. The third guy, the biggest one who’d been telling the others about Ava, stood up. He rolled his shoulders back and stuck out one finger, pushing it against my chest.
"Sounds like you’ve got a problem," he said. His two friends began to pull at his arms, trying to get him to sit back down.
"I always have a problem when assholes interrupt my drinking," My cheeks burned; anger boiled inside me. I could feel the heat of the situation. "Now shut your mouth or I’ll shut it for you."
"I guess you’ve got a thing for sluts? Is that it?" the guy asked, a malicious grin splayed across his face.
That was it. I didn’t hesitate. My hand flew out and punched the guy’s face. It was only when I made contact with his jaw that I remembered this was the same hand I had injured in my last fight. My fingers crackled and pain began to thump through me.
The guy fell back and his two friends stood up. Before I knew what was happening, they each grabbed one of my arms and were trying to hold me back while the third guy recovered himself and went in for a punch. But I was used to this sort of thing. I took hits both on the field and off, and nothing these guys could throw at me would make a big difference.
I ducked and the guy’s punch swung over me, hitting his friend instead. As the friend crumbled to the ground, I dove against his stomach, knocking him to the floor. I could sense the whole bar was on its feet now as I started to wail on the third guy. But it wasn’t until the cops showed up and dragged me off that I realized I had blood on my knuckles.