Chapter 43 Ava
AVA
On the first weekend when I felt emotionally better, I put on my leggings and sweater and took the subway out to the Bronx.
It was a long way off and took me an hour and a half with connections to finally walk up to the cemetery.
The entrance was marked by a stone archway, leading to a path that wound through rows of gravestones.
I walked through the growing grass, my feet weaving between the headstones until I found Mom’s grave. Other grave sites had flowers, photos, and personal mementos. I felt ashamed that Mom’s grave would have nothing.
I spotted the caretaker a few feet away, clearing out some of the old flowers, and I waved to him in the distance.
It was exactly one year from the day of her death. The last time I had been here was for the funeral. I’d been in a daze back then, and Gabi and the others had helped me through it.
When I found Mom’s grave, I saw to my surprise that there was a fresh set of flowers. Lilies—Mom’s favorite. I knelt down next to it. Mom had a few friends who lived in the Bronx. But I simply couldn’t picture them visiting.
I felt a twinge of guilt at my own disconnect from Mom, and I set my own flowers—another bouquet of lilies—down on the grave, speaking to Mom as I did so.
“A lot has happened in the year you’ve been gone, Mom.
Did you know that your music collection is now with Andy, the only male book club member and the man who secretly had a crush on you for the longest time?
He’s given them a new home, and he listens to them often.
I kept The Best of Simon and Garfunkel though.
I know that was your favorite CD, and I listen to it some days. ”
I paused. The sounds of rustling leaves and the distant chirping of birds were my only answer.
I sigh. “The book club is still going strong. Last I heard, they’ve moved on to bringing cakes instead of cookies now, and they’re getting quite creative with their baking.”
I remembered something else and chuckled. “I also hear they’re exploring bolder books than you let them, Mom. Regency romances, apparently. They seem to really like them.”
The branches of the tree beyond swayed gently, casting a pattern of sunlight on the ground.
I stared at the grave, unable to make small talk anymore.
I had a sudden onslaught of emotions. “I’ve missed you so much, Mom.
” And the surge of emotions brought out the truth in me.
“Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you confide in me about all the doctor’s appointments?
I feel so bad that you hid those from me, Mom.
I feel like I wasn’t the good daughter I should have been.
I feel like I failed you somehow, and I don’t even know how. ”
It felt like a weight was lifted off my shoulders. After making that admission. After telling her I was disappointed with her. And the last traces of that bitterness left me, leaving space for something more wholesome to fill me again.
For the first time, the tears flowed freely, and this time, I felt no need to hide them.
“But you know what, Mom? I love you anyway. You hid things from me, but you were just trying to take care of me in whatever way you thought was right. And I’m here to tell you it wasn’t right.
You shouldn’t have done that. You should have been more honest with me.
Like I’d been honest with you all my life.
I never hid any of my boyfriends from you, nor did I hide the first time I came home drunk or my terrible grades.
And I’d like to think that if you had a second chance, you’ be honest with me about your fears.
You’d realize I was old enough to take that burden.
And unlike Desmond, who left me again, I’d like to believe you still love me. And you wouldn’t lie to me again.”
I knelt down and ran my fingertips over the engraved letters on her headstone. Even though I felt sorrow and longing for her, I felt a new thing. I felt a sense of connection to Mom here and a peacefulness that I hadn’t been able to find at home.
“I’ll see you again soon, Mom,” I whispered and stood up. “I’ll be back next Sunday.”
When I turned to go, I saw something white peeking out from behind the headstone. Rounding it, I noticed what was an envelope. Pulling it to me, I saw that it was not sealed.
Inside it were a few printed photographs on glossy paper and a keychain. My eyes pricked with tears when I recognized the familiar engraving on it—the letters A and D, intertwined. Rubbing my eyes with the back of my hand, I turned to the pictures.
There was a photo of Desmond hugging me in the midst of a football field. I gaped as I stared at it. I remembered that. It was taken after he’d scored a touchdown for Centerville High in the fall of senior year. We’d been so young and giddy in our happiness.
The next was a photo of the two of us watching fireworks. We were sitting on a plaid picnic blanket, our hands intertwined, backs to the photo as we stared up at the dusky sky. That had been on the Fourth of July near the lake.
I turned away, my eyes welling up with tears at the reminders of those days.
Why had Desmond left them here? And how could Desmond bear to hold on to these? Why would the guy who couldn’t see a future with me keep such diligent track of our past?
I sucked in a lungful of air and felt loneliness and loss wash off of me.
Des wasn’t going to move on from me any more than I could.
Any more than two stars colliding in space.
We were like the earth and the moon, always locked in together, but never getting closer.
Sometimes, he’d disappear from my life completely, and then he’d come back, shining brightly, unmissable and unignorable by me.
That night, I walked back to my apartment from the subway station, feeling a mix of happiness and sadness.
I’d gotten Mom’s restaurant back. Not the original one, but better, if the past few days were any indication.
We were in a location that had a lot of foot traffic, and business was looking good.
It felt like the good old days. Life should have been looking up.
These were essentially the kind of workdays I’d been hoping to have after all.
But something was still missing.
I stopped on the pavement outside the brown apartment building I called home.
Desmond was sitting on the steps by the building’s front doors.
He was wearing an iron-gray suit, smart and polished. He had his hair done in a strong side part to the left. It was freshly trimmed, and not a hair was out of place. He had a bit of a stubble, but I’d always liked that.
He knows I like that, I realized with a pang of regret.
When I walked up, Desmond saw me, and he stood up.
A range of emotions crossed his face. He looked happy, relieved, and exhausted at the same time.
“You’re home,” he said.
“You’ve been waiting?” I asked, stopping at the foot of the steps.
He looked at me kindly, softly and nodded. “Just for a bit.”
Mrs. Wilson looked through a window in her living room that opened to the street. “He’s been waiting for four hours. I tried to invite him inside for a cup of coffee, but he said he didn’t want to miss seeing you walk in.”
I nodded before she withdrew.
I crossed my arms over my chest and eyed Desmond. I had a sneaking suspicion of something, and I needed to follow up on it. “Did you, by any chance, visit Mom’s grave?” I asked, holding out the envelope with the photographs and the key chain in it.
He angled his head as he looked at me and gave me a single nod. “I did. I wanted to get her up-to-date on everything. And to apologize for a whole lot of things I had done to hurt you, sweetheart.”
It was too much, the tenderness and love I heard in his voice.
“Not your sweetheart anymore, but thank you. And you don’t need to visit her grave anymore,” I said, pocketing the photographs. “I’ll be visiting her weekly from here on out.”
At that, he met my eyes evenly. “Before you walk away, I want to speak with you, Ava.”
Darn. Why did I feel a sense of loss when he gave up the endearment? Sweetheart really was better.
He drew in a deep breath. “I came here to apologize. To tell you I am sorry for everything I did.” He paused.
“But I also want to tell you that I want you in my life.” He stopped and looked contrite.
“I was a fool. I acted in the heat of the moment and regretted it the very next day. We weren’t meant to be apart after Mom died, and we certainly aren’t meant to be apart right now.
If you’ll take me back, I want a life of being with you.
In public. Going out to dinners with you. Coming home to you.”
I wanted to believe him. Every single honey-coated word. But what would stop him from pushing me away the next time?
“Are you sure the next scandal at Luxe Hotels won’t send you fleeing from my side?” I asked as I sidestepped him and pushed the front door open.
“I’m sure,” he said as he followed me as I crossed the small lobby and began walking up the stairs to the second floor. He sped up and was right behind me as I walked fast, taking the stairs two at a time. “Because I quit earlier today.”
I froze at his words, one foot midair on the step above him when Desmond put a hand out and grabbed my wrist.
“Ava,” he began just as I fumbled, lost my balance, and seemed like I was going to take a tumble down the stairs.
I looked back wildly as I tried to grasp at something, anything really, to stop the ten-foot fall that would surely result in an embarrassing death.
The last thing I was going to remember before I died was that Desmond had given up his job for our relationship.
That was a nice thought to die with, right?