by Sarah Watson
“Are you going somewhere?”
“To Stanford. To see the campus.”
He nodded. “No problem. I hope it’s everything you dreamed it would be.”
Ava leaned over Jordan and watched as a large machine deiced the wings of their plane. If they didn’t die, it would be seventy degrees and sunny when they landed in California.
“I’m nervous,” Ava said.
“Don’t be,” said Jordan, who seemed nervous herself. “It’s totally normal. Wings get covered in ice all the time. We’ll be fine.”
Ava shot her a look. “I’m nervous about seeing my birth mom.”
“Don’t be,” CJ said from the aisle seat. “Adopted children observe their biological mothers from a safe distance every day. You’ll be fine.”
Ava turned to CJ and shot her the same look she’d just given Jordan.
Outside, there was a loud whirring sound as the machine blasted the plane wing with some kind of chemical.
“Okay,” Ava said. “Now I’m nervous about the plane. I should have brought a magazine or something.”
“Oh,” CJ said. “I almost forgot. I have something for you.”
It took a little maneuvering for CJ to bend her tall body enough to reach her backpack under the seat in front of her. She pulled a book out of it and handed it to Ava.
“A biography of Franklin Roosevelt,” Ava said, running her hand along the cover. “Thanks?” She opened it and found an inscription on the front page. “A little inspiration in case you ever decide to run for president. XOXO, Clarke.”
CJ reached over and shut the book. “I forgot I wrote that. Sorry. It was originally supposed to be for Wyatt.”
Jordan peered at the book. “This is an incredibly weird thing to regift, Clarke.”
“Just trust me,” CJ said. “You can skip the parts on Franklin. Read up on Eleanor. I think you’ll find it interesting.”
Ava set the book in her lap. The deicing truck was backing away from the plane. A flight attendant’s voice crackled over the PA and told them that they would be departing shortly. There was no turning back now. Jordan and CJ each took one of Ava’s hands and squeezed.
The takeoff was bumpy but they soon leveled off, and once the threat of death was behind them, CJ and Jordan fell asleep almost immediately. There was no way Ava could sleep. She was too anxious. She looked out the window, and the clouds brought back a memory of sitting next to her mom on a flight like this one. A million memories, actually. Her mom had traveled a lot for work when Ava was young and she’d always brought Ava with her. Ava would spend every flight staring out the window, sure that her mom had the coolest job in the world.
Ava shifted in her seat and tried to shake off the memory. She could feel the guilt creeping in and was worried that it might make her lose her nerve. With her phone off and CJ and Jordan both passed out next to her, she picked up the book CJ had given her as a distraction. As instructed, she skipped the parts about Franklin Roosevelt and dropped right into Eleanor. Ava already knew a lot of the information from AP US History. She knew that Eleanor had essentially redefined the role of the first lady and that a lot of historians even thought that Eleanor might have been president herself had the world not still been a raging ball of sexism at the time. Her list of accomplishments was certainly impressive. Was this what CJ wanted her to see?
Ava really didn’t care about an impressive woman doing impressive things. Stories like these always made Ava feel inadequate. But since the only thing she feared more than not living up to her potential was being alone with her thoughts, Ava kept reading. After another couple of pages, she learned what she had never been taught in history class. Eleanor Roosevelt suffered from depression.
How did Ava not know this? Why didn’t anyone ever teach her this? She devoured the chapter. Eleanor Roosevelt was a timid wife when her husband pushed her into the spotlight. It was only because she was forced to, that she found her voice. But, boy oh boy, did she find it. It wasn’t just that she had depression. She wasn’t ashamed of it. The first lady of the United States of America was open and honest about her struggles. She even gave her dark periods a cutesy nickname. She would tell family and friends that she was “in one of her Griselda moods.” Ava loved it. Griselda moods. Somehow the name made it sound so much more dignified. And so much less terrifying.
By the time she was done with the book, Ava was sure of two things: (1) Their history teacher had never taught them any of the really important stuff, and (2) it was an absolute shame that the world was a raging ball of sexism at the time, because Eleanor Roosevelt would have been one hell of a president.
Ava flipped to the front of the book and reread CJ’s inscription. A little inspiration in case you ever decide to run for president.
She closed the book and shook Jordan and CJ awake. “We’re here.”
Martha wasn’t exactly jealous that her friends were in California without her. It’s not like they were there for a rocking good time or anything. Still, she wished she was with them. She’d thought about trying to buy a ticket. She’d even looked at flights. The cheapest one was almost four hundred dollars. She wouldn’t even let her brain calculate how many hours she’d have to work at the movie theater to pay for that.
So instead of accompanying her friends on an emotional journey that they would no doubt remember for the rest of their lives, Martha boarded the smelly city bus that would take her as close to her mom’s house as she could get with public transportation. Her mom still hadn’t given her the financial aid form. Her dad’s had been a mess, but at least he’d done it. Her mom, on the other hand, had given her nothing but excuses. Martha decided that the only way she was going to get it was to show up and stand there while her mom filled it out.
The bus ride was long and Martha picked at her nail polish, letting it fall to the floor in little flakes. Her mom was waiting for her on the sidewalk when the bus dropped her off.
“It’s freezing,” Martha said as she came down the bus steps. “You could have waited in the car.”
Martha wished her mom had waited in the car. She wanted to be mad. It was easier to be mad when her mom didn’t do kind things.
“It’s good to see you.” They stood there awkwardly for a second, and Martha wondered if maybe they should hug, but the moment passed. “Come on. The car is this way.”
Twenty minutes later, they pulled into the poorly shoveled driveway of the house. Martha’s mom told her, with some level of amusement, that the twins had done the job for twenty bucks apiece and wasn’t that adorable?
“Adorable,” Martha said. It was more than twice her hourly wage. The house was obnoxiously warm and smelled like cinnamon. Her mom offered her tea, and Martha said okay even though she didn’t really like tea all that much.
“So,” her mom said as she set the kettle on the stove, “how’s your dad?”
“He’s good. He’s on a much more normal work schedule.”
“Good for him.”
Martha shifted on the Pottery Barn stool and drummed her fingers against the marble countertop. “I need those forms, Mom. The financial aid ones.”
Her mom sighed. “I know. We’re working on it.”
“Mom. I really need them. Like now. Like two weeks ago, actually. But I’ll settle for now.”
Her mom grabbed two tea bags from the cupboard and dropped them into matching mugs. “Roger is the one with the information, and I can’t make him move any faster.”
“Well, can I talk to him, then?” Martha never knew if she should call him Roger or Mr. Russell. She got around the whole thing by only ever referring to him as a pronoun.
“I’ve spoken with him, Martha. He’s working on it.”
Martha kicked her feet into the white baseboards of the counter. It would leave scuff marks and drive her mom crazy. She didn’t care. Or maybe she did care and that’s why she was doing it.
When the teakettle whistled, her mom poured hot water into their mugs and set a timer for tw
o minutes. It was a tea timer. A small silver device with only one purpose in the world. To properly time tea. It made Martha almost as irate as the poorly shoveled front driveway.
“Mom. If I don’t get those forms—”
“You will get the forms. It’s complicated.”
“Why is it complicated?”
Her mom set the kettle back on the stove with a bit too much force. “It’s adult stuff. Not your problem to worry about.” She sat on the stool next to Martha. “Now. Tell me what’s going on with the park.”
“Nothing is going on.” After Ava’s birth mother had entered her friends’ thoughts, the park had faded from them. She didn’t even know why her mom was asking. Maybe she wanted her steak knife back.
Her mom blew across the top of her tea. “I’m sorry you and your friends won’t get to leave your names behind.”
Martha shrugged. “It’s fine.” She thought again of the knife. It seemed so strange that her mom would have kept it for all these years. “So I guess it was a big deal. Carving your name in?”
Her mom smiled. “It was a special night.” She had a faraway look, like she was remembering something. “It felt like we had our whole lives ahead of us. In this really exciting way.”
Martha looked down at her tea. “Do you ever regret not going to college?”
“Of course not.”
“Mom. It’s okay. It’s not going to bother me if you say yes.” She knew she was the reason her mom didn’t go to Indiana State like she was planning. “I’m almost an adult. You can tell me.”
Her mom tapped her nails against the mug. They were perfectly polished. “I don’t regret it,” she said. “I really don’t.” She looked up and Martha could see that she was emotional. “Okay, maybe a little. It’s impossible not to wonder how things might’ve turned out differently.” Her mom looked down at her tea. She was staring at it so hard that Martha thought she might fall into her mug. “Martha. Roger is really doing his best with those forms. Money is complicated. Having it is actually more complicated than not having it.”
Martha seriously doubted that.
“He’s talking to his accountant about the best way to proceed. But like I said, it’s complicated. His income is high, but so much of it is tied up in the business. It’s not accessible.”
Martha wasn’t sure where this was going. She sipped her tea. It tasted like an apple orchard.
“When the twins were born, Roger set up college funds. It’s just what you do. I assumed your dad had done that for you. I never handled the money.”
As her mom continued talking, it was hard at first to process what she was saying. Then it came into focus. Clear and sharp and certain. The reason her mom hadn’t given her the forms yet wasn’t out of laziness. It was because her stepfather made too much money. Martha wasn’t going to be eligible for financial aid.
“So… what do I do?” Martha asked. She’d never asked her stepfather for money in her life; she hated the idea of it, but maybe her mom would offer. Maybe this would still be okay.
“I don’t know, Martha. I’m so sorry.” Martha felt her world close in on her. “I should have paid more attention. I just thought your dad—I just assumed he’d have his act together by now.”
Martha set her tea down. She wouldn’t let her mom blame her dad for this. She didn’t yell or scream or cry even though she wanted to do all of those things. She simply asked for a ride back to the bus stop. On the bus, she typed out a frantic message to her friends. Then she deleted it. She didn’t want Ava to have to think about this in the middle of her emotional weekend. She considered texting just CJ and Jordan, but they were busy being there for Ava. Martha didn’t feel bitter about it, exactly. She just wished that someone could be there for her too. Martha stared at her phone for a long time. Finally, she thought of someone she could call. Victoria picked up after the second ring.
“Hello,” she said.
“Hi,” Martha said.
“What’s wrong?”
Martha loved that Victoria could tell that something was wrong just by hearing a one-syllable word. “Everything. Any chance you’d want to hang out tonight?”
She could hear Victoria doing something in the background. She could also hear the moment she stopped. Victoria shifted all of her attention to Martha. “I can’t. I’m on the schedule tonight.”
“That’s right.” Victoria was covering Martha’s shift for her. “I forgot. And I have my friend’s art show. Don’t worry about it.”
“No, wait. I can talk now. What’s going on?”
Martha felt like she was going to cry. She didn’t want to cry on the bus. There was a guy sitting across the aisle from her and he was staring. She felt like shouting, Mind your own business! She turned her back to him. “Never mind,” she said to Victoria. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Martha.”
“Seriously. I’ll talk to you later. Bye.”
She hung up quickly. Almost immediately, her phone buzzed with Victoria calling her back. She sent it to voice mail and stared out the window. She’d be fine. This was all going to be fine. She’d figure out a way to handle this on her own. She always had before.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
THE STUDENT tour guide walked backward and used her hands a lot. CJ hated her. It’s not that her exuberance wasn’t appreciated; it’s just that she was really dragging this tour out and Ava already looked like she was going to leap out of her skin. She hadn’t said much since they’d gotten to California. She didn’t have to. Her terror was visible.
CJ had hoped that seeing Stanford would be disappointing. It would have made it easier when they inevitably rejected her. Unfortunately, it was stunning. Even more beautiful than the version of it she’d dreamed. The tour guide pointed out Hoover Tower, the famous (and famously phallic) building at the center of campus. It made CJ tear up. She couldn’t help it. The tower reminded her of the vase that Wyatt’s mom had given her. She loved that vase with all its imperfections. In a lot of ways, it reminded her of herself. A giant mess with a huge heart. She wished Wyatt was here now. She felt increasingly like a fraud as they walked across campus. He would say something to make her laugh and remind her that she didn’t need an acceptance letter to know she was valuable.
As soon as the tour was over and they’d adequately instagrammed it (Ava’s mom followed her on social media and they figured she’d be checking in), they asked the tour guide to point them toward the bus stop. The three of them squeezed into one row and didn’t say much as the bus drove them across town. CJ peered out the window, watching as the scenery evolved from mansions to small houses and apartment complexes.
The bus let them off just a few blocks from Ava’s mother’s apartment, and they walked the rest of the way there. The apartment building was one of the nicer ones on the block, and CJ looked over to see how Ava was reacting. She was blank. She’d been blank all day. She’d also barely eaten. “You ready?” CJ asked.
Ava nodded. The movement was so slight, it was almost imperceptible.
Jordan took off her backpack and pulled out a box of candy bars. The plan was for her to knock on the door and say that she was selling candy to raise money for her school. They’d already looked up the name of the local high school—Menlo-Atherton—and Jordan had memorized the mascot and even a couple of teachers’ names in case it came up.
“Okay,” Jordan said. “I’m going in.”
As Jordan walked across the street, CJ felt Ava’s hand reach for hers. They watched Jordan knock. Then they watched her knock again.
“Maybe she’s at work,” CJ said.
Ava said nothing.
The woman who lived next door to Ava’s mom came up to her door with bags of groceries, and CJ could see Jordan say something to her. She squinted to try to read their lips, but it was too far and CJ couldn’t read lips anyway. A minute later, Jordan took one of the grocery bags from her and disappeared inside the apartment.
“Um…” CJ said. “What do you thi
nk is happening?”
Ava said nothing.
A minute later, Jordan reappeared without her box of candy. She jogged back and CJ pounced on her. “What happened? Who was that? Where’s your candy?”
“She bought it all,” Jordan said. “She was so nice. We have to donate this money to the school or something. I felt horrible lying to her.”
Ava’s voice was tiny next to them. “Did she say anything about Isabel?”
“I didn’t want to sound creepy so I kept it really general. I asked if she knew if the woman next door would maybe buy some candy, but she said she’s not around.” Jordan paused. “She said that Isabel is in the hospital.”
“Did she say why?” Ava asked.
Jordan shook her head. “No. But I was like, Stanford Hospital, and then she was like, no, the junky one up the road.”
“The junkie one?” Ava repeated. “Like she’s a junkie?”
“Let’s not make any assumptions until we get there,” said CJ.
“I don’t know if I want to go there,” said Ava. But a second later, she spoke again. “I have to go there.”
CJ grabbed a Lyft and it dropped them off in front of a small hospital. It was pretty obvious that if this is where Isabel was getting treatment, it wasn’t for anything good.
CJ and Jordan followed Ava inside, and stood on either side of her as she walked up to the nurse at reception. The nurse greeted her in Spanish and Ava had to shake her head.
“I’m sorry, I don’t speak—”
“How can I help you?” the nurse barked in impatient English.
“I’m looking…” Ava said in a meek voice. “I’m looking for a patient. Isabel Castillo.”
The nurse seemed very confused. “A patient?”
“Yes,” said Ava.
Right then, there was a loud crash. Everyone in the room turned and stared at the woman who had just dropped a mug of coffee on the floor. She stood there in her white lab coat surrounded by spilled coffee and ceramic shards. She was staring right at Ava. She was staring so hard it was uncomfortable. There was something familiar about her, but CJ couldn’t quite place her. It all clicked into place when CJ saw the name on her security badge. DR. ISABEL CASTILLO. This was Ava’s mother.