by Emery Rose
“What’s up?” I asked, not sure if I’d be getting Killian or Eden. Killian, as it turned out.
“You okay?”
“It’s all good. Are you on the road?” Killian was going to spend Thanksgiving in Pennsylvania with Eden’s family, just like he’d done last year.
“Yeah.”
“Have a good trip and Happy Thanksgiving.”
“So you and Ava…”
“Yep.”
“Huh.”
“I think it’s great,” Eden yelled in the background. “Even though my best friend and maid of honor has been MIA for two weeks. I still love you both.”
“We love you too,” I said. “That was meant for Eden.”
“Yeah, I figured,” Killian said with a snort. “You sure you’re okay?”
Funny, he didn’t give a shit how I was last Thanksgiving. “It’s cool. I’ve got plans.”
“The soup kitchen.”
I worked it last year with Tate and I was doing it again this year. After we’d left the soup kitchen last year, I hadn’t been in a good place. Tate had walked with me for miles. Not talking. Just being there for me so I didn’t do anything I’d regret. “It’s a good thing to do.”
“Yeah.” He was silent for a few seconds and I had no idea what the purpose of this phone call was. “We’ll be back Saturday night. If you need me, call me.”
If I needed him, which I wouldn’t, I doubted that he’d be able to help me from three hundred miles away. Not to mention that Killian wasn’t much of a conversationalist. What I didn’t tell him was that Tate was my first phone call these days. Not Killian. I didn’t want to burden him with any more of my shit. “I’m good. Enjoy your weekend. Catch you later.”
He said goodbye, with Eden echoing it in the background and I tossed my phone on the counter, taking a seat at the island next to Ava who was chewing on her lip.
“I wish—”
I placed my fingers over her lips, already knowing what she was going to say. “Shh. It doesn’t matter. It’s just one day.”
“It’s not. It’s Thanksgiving.”
“I’ll pick you up in Bay Ridge on Friday morning.”
“I know, but it’s not right that you—”
I pulled her into a kiss to stop the rest of the words. We’d already been over this. Her family didn’t accept me and turning up at their family Thanksgiving would ruin it for her. “Do you want to be with me, Ava? I’m not just talking about tomorrow.”
She lifted her eyes to mine. “Yes.”
“Do I make you happy?”
“Yes.”
“That’s all that matters to me. Okay?”
She gave me a little smile. “Okay.” But her gray eyes had clouded over and that brilliant smile from earlier was gone.
“Let’s go to bed,” I said as she stifled a yawn. She nodded and followed me into the bedroom. After we took turns in the bathroom, we undressed and climbed into bed. I pulled the comforter over her shoulder and wrapped an arm around her as she fit her body into the curve of mine. She fell asleep instantly, her fingers entwined with mine, and despite not being able to spend Thanksgiving with her, I was happy. I was at peace. There were no monsters lurking in the dark for me tonight. Just Ava, her pale hair spread across the pillow, her skin soft and warm, her smile from earlier imprinted on my brain.
22
Ava
“He’s a nice boy. And so handsome. His mother showed me photos. And he’s a lawyer,” my mom said. “I gave his mother your number. You can bet he’ll be calling you.”
Happy Thanksgiving. The table was laden with food, the wine was flowing, and my mom hadn’t stopped harping on me since I’d walked in the door. “If he does, he’ll be wasting his time,” I said. “I’m not interested.”
My mom sighed and looked down the table at my father. “Lars, talk to your daughter. Tell her how important it is to find a nice man. Someone who’s a good provider.”
“Pass the cranberry sauce,” my dad said. My mom passed it down the table and it changed hands until it reached me. I set it next to the brussels sprouts in front of him. Did anyone like brussels sprouts? My dad helped himself to the cranberry sauce, ignoring my mother’s pointed look.
“What happened to that other young man… the blond one?” my grandma asked.
“He looked like a pansy,” my grandpa said, earning him a sharp elbow from my grandma.
“He’s just a friend,” I told my grandma. “And you can’t call a guy a pansy,” I told my grandpa. He grunted and shoveled food into his mouth.
“She dumped him for no good reason,” my mom said, throwing up her hands. “Can you believe that? Such a good catch.”
I sighed and pushed the food around on my plate, thinking about Connor. It seemed so wrong that I couldn’t even invite him to my family’s Thanksgiving dinner. But I’d probably done him a favor.
I glanced at Lana, sitting next to me, as she sniped at Joe. “I told you I wanted one piece of turkey and a bite of stuffing. I can’t eat all this.” Joe accommodated her by transferring a slice of turkey and a heaping serving of stuffing to his own plate. The poor man waited on her hand and foot but got nothing but criticism for his efforts.
“Ava. What’s wrong with the food?” my mom asked, pointing her fork at me. I wouldn’t put it past her to skewer me with it. “I’ve been cooking for three days. I woke up at six in the morning to get the turkey in the oven and you’ve barely touched your food.”
I stuffed a bite of sweet potato casserole into my mouth and ate a few bites of turkey to keep her happy. Then I guzzled my wine. Before I knew it, the glass was empty. I refilled it, thinking that holidays with my family would turn anyone into an alcoholic. I’d lost count of how many glasses of wine I’d already drunk. Enough to make everything fuzzy around the edges. But not enough to drown out my mom’s voice.
“Ava… his name is Nathan,” she yelled down the table. “When he calls you, I want you to be sweet and nice. Ask him questions about himself and tell him about—”
“Mom. Stop. Please don’t fix me up with any of your friends’ sons. Or anyone else. I’m not interested.”
“Why not? You’ve got a better offer?” my grandma asked.
I took another gulp of wine for liquid courage before I dropped the bomb. “Connor and I have gotten back together.”
My mother’s fork clattered to her plate. “Lars,” she said, waving her hands in the air. “Do something.”
“What do you want me to do?” my dad asked, his eyes glued to his plate of food.
“Tell her she’s making a big mistake. Tell her that boy is bad news.”
My dad cut a piece of turkey, topped it with stuffing and a dollop of cranberry sauce, put it in his mouth and chewed in silence.
“He worked for you that one summer, Dad. Was he bad news? I bet he did a good job. Worked hard. Turned up on time. Didn’t he?” I knew Connor had done all those things. He’d been grateful that my dad had given him work, and he’d thought it would bring him closer to my family.
My dad shrugged and muttered something unintelligible.
Stand up for him. Stand up for me, I silently screamed.
But he wouldn’t. Or he couldn’t. He was too much of a coward. It made me so sad because I loved my dad. I really did. But I’d lost respect for him so many years ago, and he’d done nothing to win it back.
I guzzled the rest of my wine and set down my empty glass. Then I pushed back my chair and stood, feeling lightheaded from the wine. Whoa. Headrush. “I love Connor,” I announced to the table.
“Who the hell is Connor?” my grandpa asked.
“Exactly,” I said. “You don’t even know him, and he’s been a huge part of my life for ten years.”
“He’s been nothing but trouble for ten years,” my mom said.
“I’ve always loved Connor. And I always will. I can’t imagine my life without him and I don’t want to. And I’m sorry that you hate him so much, but you know what? He believed
in me when nobody else did. He loves me exactly as I am. And I want to spend my Thanksgiving with him because my family… they won’t welcome him into their home and that makes me sad and angry and hurt. So yeah, I’m going.”
I stumbled away from the table, somewhat deflated after my grand speech. A scene like that played out better in a movie. “Ava Christensen,” my mom called after me. “You get back here right now. You can’t walk out on Thanksgiving dinner with your family.”
I paused in the doorway, my back to her. If I looked at my mom’s face, I’d lose my nerve. “Watch me.”
I grabbed my parka from the hook in the entryway and pulled it on, my hands trembling as I tried to do up the zipper. I shouldered my overnight bag and walked out the front door, taking deep breaths of cold air as I walked toward the subway station. Someone needed to stand up for Connor. I was his person and he was mine. The person you called at three in the morning because you’d had a bad dream and you needed someone to reassure you that everything was okay. The first person you wanted to call when you got good news. Or bad news. Or when you just wanted to talk about everything and nothing and you knew they were the only person who would truly get it. Connor got me. He’d never tried to change me. Or turn me into an ideal of what he thought I should be.
I pulled my phone out of my coat pocket, all set to call Connor and tell him I was on my way to him. Unfortunately, my phone was dead. What? I never let my battery run out like that. I stuffed it back in my pocket. I’d just have to surprise him.
“Ava!”
I stopped and turned as Lana caught up to me. “Hey. Do you need a ride?”
I looked down the street, not sure what to say. “Um… I can take the train.”
“I’ll drive you. Wherever you want to go.”
“Why?” I asked, suspecting an ulterior motive.
“Just… let me drive you. I haven’t been drinking.”
I followed her to her silver SUV, not sure if I should trust her. But it was cold out here and I was a little bit drunk and a lot weary, so I climbed into the passenger seat and fastened my seatbelt. The inside of her car smelled like new car and fake pine tree from the air freshener hanging on her rear-view mirror. “Are you going home?” she asked, starting up the car and turning the heat on full-blast.
“No. I’m going to a church in Bed-Stuy.”
She turned on her GPS and asked me to enter the information, so I did. Then she pulled away from the curb and we drove in silence for a while.
“I didn’t know Jake did that to you. I mean… I thought he was just flirting with you and saying things…”
I guess she’d heard everything that day, but I had no idea why she was bringing it up now. “It doesn’t matter. Ancient history,” I mumbled, staring out the windshield.
She didn’t respond, and I was tempted to turn on the music, but I couldn’t be bothered so I let the silence stretch out between us. “Jake Masters was my first. I thought I loved him.”
My eyes widened, and I tried to process this information, but I couldn’t. Maybe I’d heard her wrong. I hadn’t even been aware that she’d known Jake Masters. “What?”
“I had a crush on him. And the end of our junior year, I found out about a party he was throwing. So, I went. And I got really drunk. I pretty much threw myself at him. After that, we did it a few more times.”
Did it? My sister had sex with Jake Masters? Willingly?
My stomach churned. To think that someone would actually want that… not just someone, but Lana, made me feel sick inside. “He came to our house a few times over the summer when Mom and Dad were at work. You were at that performing arts camp. And he…” I heard her take a deep breath and exhale like whatever she was about to tell me was hard to say. “… Jake saw photos of you in my room. And he said things like, ‘Your sister’s a hottie. Better watch out for that one. She’ll have guys crawling all over her.’ He wanted to know all about you.”
I opened my window, needing the fresh air while Lana just kept on talking, all her secrets spilling out after all these years. “He dumped me and moved on and when we went back to school, he completely ignored me like I’d never existed. Like we’d never had sex or… even knew each other. And then I saw the way he looked at you and I swear I didn’t know what was really going on. I thought… you were having sex with him.”
Bile rose up in my throat. “Pull over,” I said, my voice strained as I rolled down the window all the way.
“What?”
“I’m going to be…” I hung my head out the window and vomited red wine and Thanksgiving dinner. Fucking brussels sprouts. The car screeched to a halt and I yanked off my seatbelt and shoved the door open, stumbling out of the car. I threw up everything that was left inside me, my legs shaky, my stomach hurting.
“Why?” I asked, my back turned to her. “Because you read it on the bathroom walls? I never had sex with him. I was still a virgin.”
“Ava. Get back in the car.”
I took a few deep breaths and considered striking out on my own, but I was miles from where I needed to be, and I didn’t have the energy, so I returned to her car and shut the door. Lana, who had been the perfect Girl Scout, handed me a bottle of water, sugarless gum, and Tic Tacs. I indulged in all three, trying to get rid of the bad taste in my mouth.
“I guess I was jealous,” she said, minutes later. “I mean, he never paid me that much attention.”
“The wrong kind of attention, Lana. You think I wanted that?”
“No. I just wanted you to know… I’m sorry.”
I didn’t respond. Her sorry was years too late and I would have preferred that she’d been on my side when I’d needed her. I wasn’t sure we could ever repair the damage. I didn’t even know Lana anymore. I didn’t know what she liked to do in her free time, what music she listened to, what her favorite TV shows or movies were. I’d been to her condo a few times, but it had told me nothing about the person who lived there. Everything in her house was brand-new, from a big box store, beige and boring.
Lana pulled up in front of the church and I gripped the door handle. “Thanks for the ride.”
“Sure.”
I opened the door and climbed out. Before I shut it, I popped my head in and asked, “Are you happy with Joe? I mean… do you love him with the power of a thousand suns?”
She shook her head. “Ava… nobody loves like that.”
“I do.” I closed the door and walked toward the church. How sad for Lana that she’d never had that kind of love. How sad that she’d ever believed she could be in love with a guy like Jake Masters. I’d rather burn for my love than be indifferent.
23
Ava
Volunteers were cleaning the tables, and it looked as if the dinner was over, but I didn’t see Connor. I walked through the room and poked my head in the kitchen. I recognized the guy with a ponytail, although I hadn’t seen him in a year. “Hey, Tate.”
He turned from the sink and I gave him a little smile. “Ava. What’s up?”
“I was just… is Connor here?”
“Left about five minutes ago.”
“Okay… well, it was good seeing you.”
“Hang on,” he said, drying his hands on a dish towel. “I’ll give you a lift.”
“It’s okay. You don’t have to—”
“I know I don’t have to, but I’m gonna.” He pointed a finger at me. “Don’t go anywhere.”
I nodded and waited for Tate, staying out of the way of the volunteers cleaning up the kitchen.
Two minutes later, Tate was back with his coat. I followed him outside and down the block to a black pick-up truck that said Atlas Motors on the side, with an address and phone number advertising his business. “Good thing I brought the truck today,” he said, unlocking the doors. “I don’t have a spare helmet.”
I climbed into the truck and belted up, huddling into my seat as he pulled away, classic rock music playing on his stereo.
“Connor’s doing really
well, isn’t he?” I asked Tate, trying to fill up the silence even though Tate didn’t seem bothered by it.
“Yep. Proud of him.”
We settled into silence again and I resigned myself to a quiet trip.
“You love him?” Tate asked a few minutes later, catching me by surprise.
“Yes, I do.”
“You’re willing to stand by him? Not go running off when things get tough?”
I considered his questions and tried not to get offended by them. It was obvious that Tate really cared about Connor and he had his back. He’d been there for Connor when nobody else had been. “I just walked out on my family’s Thanksgiving because they don’t support my relationship with Connor. They never liked him, and they never wanted us to be together.”
“Huh. You don’t say. But you didn’t answer the questions.”
“No. I guess I didn’t.” I mulled it over for a minute. Tate felt the need to protect Connor from me. That hurt. But maybe it was justified. I’d always thought that Connor was the one who ran away when things got tough but maybe, all along, it had been me. “We’re on our way to something good and I don’t want to lose him again.”
Tate nodded, pleased with my answer, maybe. I didn’t know him well enough to decipher his gestures. He pulled up in front of Connor’s place and put the truck in park. “Thanks for the ride,” I said, hopping out of the truck.
“You got it.”
I pounded on Connor’s door with the side of my fist, hoping he could hear me upstairs. A doorbell would be handy. I waited, my ear pressed against the door, listening for sounds on the other side. Then I heard his footsteps on the stairs. “Who is it?” he asked, his voice low and steely, and not sounding like him.
“It’s me. Ava.”
He undid the locks and opened the door, dressed in jeans, shirtless and barefoot. “Hey,” I said. “Surprise.”
“What are you doing here?” he asked, looking over my shoulder. Tate gave a thumbs-up before he pulled away, and I returned my attention to Connor.