10. Sebastian
ten
Sebastian
I turn on the TV after a hard day at practice when I hear my phone buzz. It’s Ava. She’s sent me a picture of herself standing downstairs with a Chinese takeout packet in her hand. She’s waiting for me to let her in.
I couldn’t have been happier. I greet her with a smile, feeling warm inside.
“My turn,” she says, placing the food on the table.
Ava and I sit comfortably on the couch, eating our beef and broccoli with rice, when my phone rings.
I don’t recognize the number and decide to ignore it.
“Aren’t you going to get that?” Ava asks, pointing at my phone.
I tell her I don’t recognize the number and don’t think it’s important. Ava and I continue with our meal when the phone rings again.
“You should see who it is. They seem pretty insistent; maybe it’s important,” Ava shrugs her shoulders .
I agree and answer the call.
“I’m trying to get ahold of Sebastian Kane. Is he speaking?” I hear a woman’s voice over the phone.
I sit up immediately. Ava notices my sudden shift in demeanor and sits up, too.
“Yes,” I answer.
Something about the way she speaks gives me a strange feeling.
“This is Dr. Linda Matthews at St. Petersburg Hospital,” she introduces herself.
I feel my heart sink immediately.
“Your mother has had a heart attack. She is in stable condition…”
The doctor goes on to tell me how they have her on medication and that she is being monitored. The words go right through me as all I can think about is how I need to be with my mom.
I jump up from the couch.
Ava panics and rushes to my side.
“I’ll be there as soon as possible,” I say, disconnecting the call.
I sit down, burying my head in my hands.
“What’s wrong?” Ava asks, kneeling by my side .
“It’s my mom; she’s in the hospital,” is all I say as I walk over to the closet to take out a suitcase. “I need to go to Chicago.”
“Are you going alone?” Ava asks.
I shrug, feeling my mind wander in a thousand different directions. Hearing she had a heart attack makes my knees tremble, wondering if she’s all right.
“I’m coming with you,” Ava tells me.
“You don’t have to do that, Ava.”
“I know I don’t have to, but I want to.” She looks me straight in the eyes.
“Thank you,” I say, hugging her tight.
A few hours later, we land at O'Hare International Airport and head straight to the hospital.
Ava is by my side the whole time. She is just as worried as I am.
They tell us that my mother is in the Cardiac Care Unit but is with doctors at the moment, and we will not be able to see her for another hour. So, we wait in the cafeteria.
Ava holds my hand the whole time until we are finally allowed to see my mom.
“How are you feeling?” I ask, kissing my mother on the forehead.
Stupid question, Sebastian. Look at her !
It pains me to see her hooked up to a monitor. She is the strongest woman I know, and I never thought I would ever see her this way.
She nods, unable to speak much.
I sit there holding her hand.
“I brought someone to meet you,” I say.
She looks up at me and smiles. She knows who I am talking about.
I look behind my shoulder and step back, allowing Ava to walk in. My mother reaches for Ava’s hand instantly and smiles.
Seeing them together stirs something inside me. It brings me a sense of peace as if somehow things will be okay.
That evening, we head back to my childhood home for the night. We won’t be able to see my mother until the next day. Ava and I are exhausted and fall right to sleep.
The next morning, we are back at the hospital to see my mom.
Ava sits by my mother’s side, once again holding her hand. I step back, allowing the moment to be theirs. I know I’ve made the right decision. Ava is perfect in every way. I have never seen my mom so happy to see one of my girlfriends—fake or not—as she is to see Ava. They speak for a while until Ava gets up to use the restroom.
With Ava gone, my mother calls me to her side .
“You better not mess this one up,” she says.
There she is!
I can tell she’s already feeling like her old self again.
“She’s a true gem, and you would be a fool to lose her,” she tells me, leaning back to rest.
“I won’t. I promise.” I stroke her hair back, covering her with the blanket and kissing her. “Now rest.”
We are soon on our way back to my childhood home.
“Your mom is a strong woman,” Ava comments.
“She is,” I reply, remembering how she’s always pushed me to be better. “She adores you,” I add.
Ava blushes.
“I think she’s just as happy as I am that you decided to join me.”
I mean that in more ways than one.
“I’m glad I could be a reason for a smile on her face,” Ava says, smiling and looking out the window as we drive back to unwind for the day.
Ava and I lay in bed. The sexual tension between us is undeniable, but I want more than that now. She’s just as confused about our relationship as I am. It’s like the white elephant in the room. I lean forward and tuck her hair behind her ear. She smiles instantly .
“Did you always want to play soccer?” Ava asks.
I think for a moment, remembering everything I wanted to be as a child.
“Well, I wanted to be a chef, which is why I know my way around a kitchen. Once my father discovered how good I was at soccer, though, I started practicing hard, and before I knew it, it became my passion,” I explain, recalling all the weekend hangouts sacrificed in favor of training. “What about you? Did you always dream of being a naturalist?”
“At first, I didn’t know what I wanted to be. All I knew was that I wanted to change the world somehow. It became clear to me after a conversation with a friend of my mom’s; she’s a naturalist, too. Once I learned more about it, I knew that that was what I wanted to do.” Ava yawns.
“Makes sense,” I nod. “For what it’s worth, I see how passionate you are about what you do. I think you’ll change the world someday.”
She smiles bashfully and avoids eye contact. Instead, she looks around the living room walls plastered with pictures from my childhood.
“Can I ask you something?” Ava sits up and stretches.
I nod.
“Your parents aren’t together, are they?”
Ava asks me a sensitive question, and though I’ve never spoken to anyone about my parents’ separation, I feel comfortable talking to her about it.
“My parents got divorced when I left for college,” I explain. “They both wanted different things in life but wanted to give me a two-parent household growing up, so they waited. I think that takes a lot of strength.”
I look down, tracing my finger over the crease in the sheet.
“My parents split up when I was five. It was tough having two homes to go to,” Ava says sadly. “But my parents never let their personal feelings get in the way of parenting me. They were great parents even after the divorce.”
I can see her parents’ separation affects her despite the amicable picture she paints.
“It was hard for me, having to come back home and know that my father had moved out. It wasn’t until I returned for summer break that I knew they were divorced.” At the time, it felt like a betrayal, but looking back, I’ve come to understand their decision better.
Ava squeezes my hand, and it feels like warm reassurance.
We grow silent for a moment before Ava turns her head toward me, moving up and kissing me. I kiss her back. It’s a sweet and intimate moment, and neither of us wants anything more from it other than the comfort it gives us.
We are lost in each other, ending the night in each other’s arms .
When morning comes, I wake up to find the bed empty. I hear noises coming from the kitchen. I find Ava there, making breakfast.
“I was just about to wake you up,” Ava says, setting the table for breakfast. “I want to get to the hospital soon; visiting hours just started.”
I hadn’t realized how late it was—almost 10 a.m. After finishing breakfast, Ava and I head to the hospital to visit my mother.
While I’m sitting by my mom’s side, Ava rushes in, her lips curving into an excited smile. Both my mother and I turn to her expectantly.
“I have good news,” Ava says, practically glowing. “I overheard a couple of nurses saying you’ll be going home in a few days!” She cheers, looking directly at my mother.
The relief on my mom’s face mirrors my own. We’re all overjoyed to hear she’s finally well enough to go home.
After leaving the hospital, I decide to take Ava to a place very close to my heart—a place I’ve never shared with anyone before. I want her to see it, to experience it with me.
We drive past the countryside until we reach the edge of a cliff. The view is breathtaking.
“I have a surprise for you,” I say as we step out of the car .
Ava joins me at the cliff’s edge, the entire Chicago skyline sprawling before us. She hugs herself as a cool breeze brushes past her.
“You’re not pushing me off, right?” she jokes, her laughter blending with the rustling wind. Then, her gaze softens as she takes in the view. “I’ve never seen anything like this,” she says sincerely, her voice full of wonder.
“That’s not the surprise,” I say, taking her hand and guiding her to a spot just beneath a small bush.
She watches curiously as I pull out my penknife and begin digging. Ava hesitates but eventually joins me, getting her hands dirty as we dig together.
“What are we looking for?” she asks, her tone equal parts curiosity and amusement.
“You’ll see,” I reply, focused on the task.
Finally, our hands hit something solid—a small metal box buried deep in the soil.
“It’s still here,” I murmur, brushing away the dirt.
Ava pulls it out and opens it, her expression shifting to one of confusion as she peers inside.
One by one, I take out the objects: an eagle’s feather, a pack of cards wrapped in string, and a few folded pieces of paper.
I hold up the eagle’s feather, smiling at the memory it holds. “I found this the day my father and I went camping,” I explain .
Ava picks up the pack of cards. “And this?”
“My grandfather gave them to me just before he passed,” I reply, my voice tinged with nostalgia.
Her fingers brush over the folded pieces of paper. “And these?”
I carefully unfold one of the notes. “Every lunch note my mom ever wrote me,” I say with a smile, the memory of her handwritten words filling me with warmth.
Ava looks at the contents of the box with an intensity I hadn’t expected, her expression soft and thoughtful.
“I buried this when I was nine,” I tell her. “I haven’t shown this to anyone until now.”
Her gaze meets mine, her eyes full of emotion. “I’m honored,” she says, placing her hand over her heart.
Then, with a small smile, she asks, “Can I add something to it?”
I nod, watching as she removes a bobby pin from her hair. “This is the bobby pin Ava Harrison added when she came to Chicago with you,” she says playfully, placing it in the box.
We exchange a smile, a quiet understanding passing between us, as I carefully put everything—including her bobby pin—back into the box.
As I bury it once again, I can’t help but feel a deep sense of connection .
“Maybe we’ll come back and visit it again someday,” I say, patting the soil into place.
Ava nods happily. “I hope we do.”