Most Likely

by Sarah Watson

  Martha was completely underdressed for the Coventry Art Gallery. Her jeans and faded black Converse stood out in a room of polished blazers and Chelsea boots. She hadn’t even bothered to put makeup on. She felt stupid for not realizing that this would be a fancy affair.

  A woman wearing the coolest pair of knee-high boots that Martha had ever seen walked up to her. “I can check that for you,” she said, motioning to Martha’s coat.

  “Oh, that’s okay. I can just hold it.” Martha had to raise her voice to be heard over the music that seemed to be coming from everywhere.

  “We’re requiring everyone to check their coats tonight.” Martha hesitated and the woman shifted, impatient. “It’s to prevent people from bumping into the art. And there’s no charge.” She added that last part with an inflection that seemed condescending.

  Martha peeled off her coat and handed it to the woman. “Oh, wait.” She took off her hat and shoved it into the pocket. “Thanks.”

  Martha walked through the gallery, feeling small and foolish among the chic crowd. She wondered what Martha Washington would think if she could see this. She’d probably be embarrassed and disappointed that her offspring was such a misfit. The paintings of Martha Washington always showed her as a matronly old lady in a bonnet, but that was only because the history books liked to portray her that way. A simple woman, happy to stand in the background and let her husband shine. The truth was, Martha Washington was legendary for her style and her wealth. None of which came from George. The money was all hers. Of course, so were the slaves. That was the other thing the history books liked to gloss over.

  Martha (the current Martha, not the long-dead racist) walked into the next room and heard someone call her name.

  “Martha.”

  She turned. It was Logan. She’d never been more relieved to see anyone in her life. “Hi,” she said. “Please tell me you know where her painting is?”

  He motioned behind him. Martha felt an immediate surge of pride when she saw it. She’d seen this painting before, but not like this. Not on the wall of a gallery with proper lighting and a crowd of impressed onlookers.

  “Oh my god,” Martha said.

  “I know. I’ve been through the entire gallery. The whole collection is good. But hers…”

  Martha nodded. She knew exactly what he meant. It stood out. You couldn’t take your eyes off it. “I wish Ava was here to see this.”

  “Me too.” He paused, then shifted. “Have you heard from her? I texted.” He shifted again. “She never responded.”

  Martha shook her head. “Not from her. But Jordan and CJ have been sending me updates.”

  “And?”

  Martha shared the last information she’d heard. They were on their way to a hospital where Ava’s mom was possibly a patient. Logan processed it. “Thanks. Keep me posted, would you? I just want to know that she’s doing okay.”

  Martha nodded and said, “Yeah, sure,” and she must have looked as torn up as she felt because he tilted his head slightly to the side and asked, “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah,” she answered by rote. Then she shifted almost immediately. “No, actually. I’m not.” Martha was so desperate to unburden herself to someone. Anyone. She wanted to tell him the truth. Needed to. “I’m not okay, Logan. I’m not okay at all.”

  The volume of the room rose at that exact moment with a burst of conversation and laughter. The voices echoed off the walls and the sound felt personal. Like it was trying to swallow her up and drown her out. Logan moved closer so she could hear him over the din. “What’s going on?” he asked.

  She leaned closer. Their arms touched. She told him about the long bus ride and the tea that tasted like an apple orchard and the moment she found out that she wasn’t eligible for financial aid.

  “Shit,” Logan said.

  “I’m scared. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

  The entire room seemed to be laughing. She knew they weren’t laughing at her, but it felt like it. She looked back at Ava’s painting. The crowd was enamored with it. Martha had never been jealous of her friends before. Not once. The girls always existed as a singular unit, and their successes felt like they were hers too. Tonight something shifted. She didn’t want to drift into the background while they shined. She wanted to do something remarkable with her life too. But how was she supposed to do that when she couldn’t even pay for college? The tears sprang to her eyes. She quickly wiped them away with the back of her sleeve. “Oh my god. Sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

  Logan grabbed her hand. “Martha. It’s okay.” It was a friendly gesture. Just a kind thing. But she needed a kind thing right then. She needed it so badly. He squeezed her hand, and by instinct, she squeezed back. Twice.

  She stared up at Logan and didn’t let go. Her hand was still in his when she realized they were being watched. Victoria stood in the doorway. She looked gutted.

  Martha woke up from wherever she’d been and dropped Logan’s hand immediately. “Victoria.”

  Victoria turned and walked away.

  The crowd was so thick that Martha had a hard time catching up to her. By the time she reached the lobby, Victoria was gone. Martha didn’t pause to find the coat-check lady. She didn’t pause for anything. She sprinted right out the door and chased after Victoria. It had started snowing and thick white flakes fluttered all around her. Martha shivered and ran faster. Thank god Victoria’s legs were so short or Martha would never have caught up to her. “Victoria!” Martha shouted.

  The girl who was named for Queen Victoria but wasn’t related to Queen Victoria whirled around. She seemed surprised to see Martha standing there. She was especially surprised to see her with no coat and no hat. “What are you doing?” Victoria asked. “You’ll freeze to death.”

  Martha didn’t answer. “I thought you were working tonight.”

  Victoria’s smile was conflicted and hurt. “I asked my uncle to cover for me. You sounded so…” Victoria shifted. “You sounded like you needed a friend. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  “You weren’t interrupting anything.”

  “It’s fine. I don’t want to get in your way. I didn’t realize that… So you and Dinglehopper, huh?”

  “No. No, no, no. He was just comforting me.” Martha was absolutely freezing. She blew on her hands and shoved them into her pockets. “Please come back. We can talk.”

  “About what?”

  The snow was coming down hard, and Martha had to squint to keep it out of her eyes. Victoria was squinting too. It made everything so much more confusing. It was so hard to read the emotion on her face.

  “Just come back. It’s cold.” Martha shivered hard.

  “I know. I’m going home. Go back to the gallery. You’re going to freeze out here.”

  “I’m fine. I’m totally fine.”

  “No, you’re not.” Victoria took off her hat and offered it to Martha.

  Martha shook her head. “I’m not taking your hat.”

  Victoria didn’t take no for answer. She put it on Martha’s head and pulled it down over her ears. “I’m not mad or anything,” she said. “I’m just hurt. I misread something. But that’s not your fault.”

  She turned and walked away, leaving Martha to wonder: Are you hurt because you have feelings for Logan? Or are you hurt because you have feelings for me?

  The snow swirled around her and Martha shivered. She was too cold to do anything other than walk back to the gallery to retrieve her coat.

  “Do you like bagels?”

  This was the first thing Ava’s birth mom said to her after CJ and Jordan left and it was just the two of them staring at each other.

  “The cafeteria here isn’t great, but they have bagels. We can grab a couple and talk. Or just coffee. Or water.”

  “I’m fine,” said Ava.

  They sat across from each other at a long table under bright fluorescent lights. The room was packed with people, but everyone was in their own world and no
body looked twice at Ava and Isabel.

  “I guess you have a lot of questions,” Isabel said after a little bit of silence. “Ask me anything you want.”

  Ava knew exactly where she wanted to start. “How did you know what I look like?”

  The cafeteria was loud enough that their conversation felt private. “Your mother sends me a letter and a picture every year. On your birthday.”

  Ava felt her body go numb. She set her hands on the table because she was afraid she might collapse. “I didn’t know that.”

  “I’m the one who asked for those terms. Lynn was just following my wishes.”

  “Why?” Ava’s voice had an edge of anger.

  Isabel sighed in this huge weighty way that was filled with so many complicated emotions that Ava couldn’t even begin to define them all. “A lot of shame. A lot of embarrassment. I thought it might be harder for you if you knew.” Isabel shook her head like she wanted to back up. “Not true. I convinced myself of that for a long time. But the truth is, I knew it would be harder for me. I didn’t want you to know my face. I could handle you hating me if I was just this abstract idea of a mother. But if you knew me…”

  “I don’t hate you.”

  Isabel grabbed the table in the same way Ava had just done.

  “I don’t,” Ava repeated.

  “Would you like to know why I made the decision I did?”

  Ava nodded.

  “I don’t know if this will be a good thing to hear or the opposite. But I came very close to keeping you. Very close. I’d already applied to medical school when I found out I was pregnant. But then the rejections started coming in and I thought it was a sign. Medical school had always been my dream, but maybe it wasn’t meant to be. It seemed like the universe had another plan for me. I thought maybe that plan was you.”

  Ava looked down.

  “Things with my boyfriend weren’t great, but they weren’t terrible. It was a life that I could see. I’d been wait-listed at Stanford and never in a million years thought I’d get in. But then the letter came. I was standing there seven months pregnant holding a letter telling me that I’d gotten my dream. My mom, your abuela, used to light a candle in her church in Mexico City and pray that she could give me a better life. She risked so much to come to the United States, and that acceptance letter felt like everything she’d fought to give me. I know that sounds like I’m using her sacrifice to justify what I did. But I’m not. In a lot of ways it made it harder. My mom would have been so disappointed with me if she knew what I did.”

  Ava looked up only to find that Isabel was the one looking away now. It was too hard for her to make eye contact.

  “She died a couple years before you were born. I knew she would have wanted me to keep you. But I would have been living my life for her. I had to live it for me.”

  There was regret in her words, but also strength.

  “The adoption agency sent me a lot of letters from different families. When I read Lynn’s…” Isabel coughed and Ava knew it was to cover the emotion. “She wanted you so badly. And I wanted you to have that kind of life. A life where you were…” Another cough. Isabel took a deep breath. In and out. “I wanted you in the arms of someone who was ready for you.”

  “I understand,” Ava said. “At least I think I understand.”

  “It’s okay if you don’t. I should have explained earlier. I should have agreed to meet you four years ago.”

  Ava looked up. “What do you mean?”

  “When Lynn contacted me.” Ava stared at the table. She didn’t want Isabel to know that she wasn’t aware of this part. “She said you were asking. I thought about it. I really did. I just couldn’t. I don’t have a better answer than that. I just couldn’t.”

  Ava remembered back to the day when her mom told her that she’d decided Ava wasn’t ready to meet her biological mom. It was a lie. A beautiful one. One that protected her from feeling rejected at a time when she needed to feel loved.

  “What other questions do you have?” Isabel asked.

  “Do you hate cilantro?”

  Isabel laughed. “That one is much easier to answer. I hate it with a passion.”

  “Me too. I thought I was the only Mexican in the world who didn’t like it. Do your thumbs bend back?”

  Isabel held out her thumb and bent it into a weird angle. Ava raised hers and did the same.

  “Are you artistic?”

  Isabel smiled like the question brought up something bittersweet. “Not at all. That you get from your father.”

  Her father. Ava had wondered about him before. Though never with the same intensity that she thought about Isabel.

  “I haven’t talked to him in more than a decade. Last I heard, he was working as a graphic designer at Electronic Arts. He’s so talented. But nothing like you. Lynn has sent me a lot of your work.”

  Ava could feel the emotion in her throat. Like a giant ball. She steered the conversation to something safe to keep it from leveling her. “Favorite subject?”

  “Science and math.”

  Ava shook her head. “Not me. Art and English. And history.”

  Ava asked a few more questions that didn’t really matter. She was working her way up to the big one, the thing she really wanted to know. “Do you get sad sometimes?”

  Isabel put her hand to her heart. “Oh, Ava. Oh god. Yes. Not a day goes by that I don’t feel sad about the choice I made.”

  Ava looked down. “Oh. I didn’t mean… I mean, thanks. But I mean do you ever get sad. Like… for no reason.”

  Isabel took the hand that had been on her heart and set it down on the table. She drew small circles with her index finger. “I guess you got a lot more from me than just your eyes.” Isabel sighed again. This one was the most complicated of them all. “Yeah. I have depression. It’s a lot better with medication. But I still have bad days.”

  “Me too,” Ava said.

  “I’m really sorry you got that from me.”

  “It’s okay. I think I got some good stuff too.”

  Isabel looked over Ava’s head, and Ava could tell that she was looking at the clock.

  “I guess you probably have to go.”

  Isabel nodded. “I work out of two hospitals, and I have a second shift starting pretty soon. I volunteer here because it’s my community. They’re really underfunded. That’s why it doesn’t look like much.”

  “The junky hospital,” Ava said.

  Isabel eyed her curiously. “Yeah. That’s what my neighbor calls it. How did you…? Actually, back up even further. How did you find me?”

  “A guy at school helped me out.”

  “Wow. Nice guy.”

  “Yeah. I think maybe he is.”

  “Well…” Isabel stood. “I’m not really sure how we end this. If you want, it doesn’t have to be the end. You can contact me with more questions or anything else.”

  “That would be nice.”

  The table was between them so a hug seemed awkward, but everything about this had been awkward, so they leaned over and gave it a shot anyway.

  Isabel left and Ava waited until she was gone to text Jordan and CJ. They walked through the door of the cafeteria thirty seconds later.

  “We were right outside,” Jordan said.

  “You okay?” CJ asked.

  Ava could tell that her friends were trying not to pounce. She could also tell that they really wanted to. “Yeah,” she said. “I’m okay. I’m… good. Let’s get out of here. I’m ready to go home.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  THE GIRLS returned from their Stanford trip late in the evening on Sunday. The next morning, Ava woke up in one of her Griselda moods. The emotion of the weekend combined with the exhaustion was simply too much. She wasn’t scared this time. Well, not as scared. She knew she would get through it. She also knew that she needed to ask for help. She found her mom in the kitchen and said that she couldn’t go to school today and that she needed to see Dr. Clifford. Everything else tumbl
ed out pretty quickly after that. Logan Diffenderfer’s offer. The real reason for the Stanford weekend. Isabel Castillo.

  Her mom’s eyes got pretty wide, but she didn’t freak out. At least not on the outside. She told Ava that she would call the school and let them know she was sick and then she’d call Dr. Clifford to book an appointment for as soon as possible. She did suggest that they make it a family session and Ava thought that seemed like a good idea. Ava crawled back into bed while her mom made the calls.

  Not long after that, there was a light knock on the door. “Can I come in?”

  Ava said yes.

  Her mom sat down at the edge of the bed. “Dr. Clifford can see us later today.”

  Ava turned toward her mom. “Don’t you need to go to work?”

  Her mom smoothed the hair out of Ava’s face and tucked it behind her ear. “I called in sick too.”

  “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “Oh, Ava. We’re in this together, okay?”

  Ava nodded again. It was the only thing she had the energy to do.

  “I know it’s not as good as having your friends here, but if you want, I could lie down with you for a little while. Unless you want me to leave you alone?”

  Ava shook her head. “No. Stay.”

  Ava’s mom crawled into her bed and nestled next to her. She didn’t say anything, but Ava felt safer having her there.

  “I’m sorry, Mom. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. About Isabel. About the letters.”

  “You couldn’t. I get it. Thank you for writing them. And, Mom?”

  “Yeah, hon?” she said, rubbing Ava’s back.

  “Thank you for fighting for me to stay in my advanced classes.”

  Her mom’s expression changed. “You deserved to be there. Depression is not your fault, and there was no fucking way I was going to let them punish you for it.”