Teddy #2
“I heard you crying as I was heading to the pool,” Ava says, shifting her tiny body to perch on the edge of the tiny chair.
“Was it about John?”
Talking about John made me want to drink to forget about him, but it only made me dream of him, miss him, call out for him.
I sit up in bed and comb my hair with my fingers.
Reclaim your attitude, Teddy.
“That is none of your business.”
“Want an aspirin?”
She nods toward the Three Wise Men I always have sitting on my bathroom vanity: Advil, Aleve and Lexapro.
I nod.
Ava flutters barefoot across the bedroom in an Olivia Rodrigo “vampire” T-shirt and cutoffs, returning with two Aleve and
a glass of water.
“Thank you.”
I take the pills, drink the water and dab my mouth with the sleeve of the vintage knit shirt I passed out in. Ava retreats
back to the chair.
“Strong shit,” she says, nodding toward the bottle of Lexapro.
“Life is shittier without it.” I look at her. “Where is everyone?”
“Gone,” she says. “Ron took my grandma to some store with a guy’s name . . .”
“Ralphs,” I say. “It’s a grocery store.”
“My grandma’s stomach was upset from the heat, so Ron took her to get some ginger ale.”
“Trudy is quite the actress. Our modern-day Shelley Winters.”
“Who?”
“Never mind,” I say with a sigh. “Just google Poseidon Adventure one day. I only pray Trudy makes it off this ship alive. I can’t dig a hole big enough to bury her.”
“You scared me,” Ava says. “I was worried.”
“You were hoping I would die.”
“So I could inherit your caftan collection? No, thank you.”
Ava does not break eye contact with me. It unnerves me. She nods toward the bathroom.
“You know, I take it, too.”
“Advil?”
“The stronger stuff,” she says casually. “Grandma takes it, too, but it’s a secret.”
“Her life is a secret.”
“You know, finding a dead man can really fuck a girl up.”
Ava means to say this as a joke, but it comes out as heartbreak instead.
The crow outside leaps off the breeze block and hops toward the patio door. It peers inside.
“Tell me about it.”
“You first,” she says. “My grandma told me about what happened to John.”
“What did my sister put you up to?” I ask. “Are you getting something in return for information? You have no right to utter
John’s name. You never knew him.”
Ava lifts her hands in a defensive gesture.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I didn’t mean to pry. I just really want to know how you handled it. I can’t imagine. Finding my grandpa
was bad enough. I mean, if my boyfriend died, and I found him . . .” Ava stops, her face frozen.
“I hope you never do.”
“My grandfather never loved me,” Ava says. “My whole family really. They say they love me, but only if I act a certain way.”
“Any way but yourself?”
She nods.
“Story of my life, sweetheart.” I take a sip of water and sit further up in bed. I rub my eyes, my temples. When I look up,
there are many floating Avas, many floating ravens.
“Does your grandmother ever talk about me?” I suddenly ask. “Be honest.”
“She does.”
“Really?”
“At the holidays when she’s making your mother’s stuffing, or Christmas cookies. She says, ‘Teddy always made it better than
Mama.’”
“Were you ever curious about me?”
“Who do you think really convinced her to come out here?”
I do a double take.
“Really?”
“I couldn’t deal with her anymore. Something’s going on with her, something bigger than Grandpa’s death.”
There is something going on. I knew it.
Ava continues. “It was winter break, and I wanted to get out of that house. It was creepy to be there. And she was driving
me nuts. You know her. She can be a sanctimonious beyatch.”
I raise a brow and then laugh, hard, which turns into a long, painful cough.
I reach for my water. It’s empty.
Ava grabs the glass and gets up to refill it. When my coughing eases, I finish it in one big gulp.
“Hungover, and it’s not even dinnertime,” I say, eyeing her closely. “Why are you being so nice? I had you pegged for a bitch.”
“Back at’cha,” Ava says, shooting her finger at me as if it were a pistol. “Birds of a feather. That’s a Billie Eilish song.
Barry told me about what you said to that waiter about Chappell Roan. So cringe!”
My chin rises to turn my mouth into a half-moon smile. “Cringe. I like that. Teach me more pop music and cultural slang,”
I say. “I’m trying my damnedest to stay young.”
“But not alive?”
Ava nods at my nightstand.
The pamphlets and notes from my doctor are jutting from beneath a stack of books and magazines. I thought I’d hidden them well.
“Snoop much?” I ask.
“I have eyes like a hawk,” she says proudly. She looks toward the bathroom. “You have Aleve, Advil and Lexapro, but no other
meds for your cancer. Why do you want to die?”
“Why do you want to live?”
She shrugs, stands and moves over to sit on the edge of my bed. The raven watches her closely.
“I don’t know yet, but there’s gotta be a reason, right?” Ava says. She nods toward the mountain. “Life can be beautiful sometimes.”
She reaches over and runs a soft hand over my old brow. “But it can be pretty damn lonely, too, huh?”
Ava begins to hum and then sing “Birds of a Feather” in a breathy voice that is surprisingly good.
Birds of a feather we should stick together ’til the day that I die.
Ava runs her fingers through my hair, calming me, as she sings.
“Your friends don’t know, do they?” Ava asks when she finishes.
I do not answer.
“I’ll teach you music and pop culture if you decide to give living a shot, how’s that sound?”
I shut my eyes and feel the soft touch of another soul for the first time in a very long while.
My eyes grow as heavy as wings, and I can already feel myself flying, soaring over Gull Island and Suttons Bay like the birds
used to do when I was but a boy, unsure as to whether to return to this world or escape for good.
“Let me get you something to eat,” Ava whispers. “I make a mean microwave burrito.”
The last thing I see before I fall asleep is the raven behind Ava taking flight.