Chapter 6 #3
But she’d have to pick up the pace if she wanted to keep her job, let alone get the promotion.
Ava turned her focus toward the laptop, checked her email, and organized the messages she’d respond to during the week.
Then she sent a few emails to clients and copied in Scott.
She could at least remind everyone she was still there.
When she’d taken care of her inbox, with nothing else pressing, thanks to Scott, she went out to the front porch and, to her utter delight, a small shipping box with her new phone sat on the porch.
She took it inside, set it on the counter, and then went out to the deck and sat by the water.
While the lake was giving her the space she needed to recuperate, despite the slight urge to stay longer for Lucas, she longed for the busy city that could always charge her dead battery.
Outside, her mother was sitting in a chair. She had the bulb lights on and the firepit going. The flames popped and flickered, sending the burning embers into the air, creating the unique scent of fall.
Ava picked up a giant red maple leaf that had fluttered onto the decking and twirled it in her fingers. The sheen on its surface almost sparkled in the evening light.
Her mom wiped her eye and sniffled.
“You okay?” Ava asked.
“Oh, yes. Something out here gets my allergies every time.” She sniffled once more and gave Ava a wide smile. “Why don’t I get us a glass of wine and another bowl of stew?”
“That sounds good.”
While Martha went inside, Ava sat down in the wooden chair and put her feet up on the thick stone wall of the firepit.
The lake rippled more than usual tonight.
A fish jumped, sending a few drops of spray into the air.
The autumn evenings were stunning out there—just cool enough to need a sweatshirt, with a slight breeze that would catch a falling leaf every now and again and send it her way.
Her mom returned with two steaming bowls, set them down on the table between their chairs, and went back inside, returning with two glasses of red wine.
They sat together quietly. Ava spooned the hearty soup into her mouth, relishing the salty flavor and the warmth in juxtaposition to the crisp, cool night.
As the sun finished its descent, the lake became black. Ava sipped her wine.
“You know, the darkness, sitting with you, under the spell of the wine, it’s a little bit like the feeling I had when I was unconscious. It’s as if our world tries but can’t even come close to what I experienced.”
Her mom sat silently. Then, finally, she said, “I have to admit something to you, and in doing so, I have to admit it to myself.”
“What?”
“I think I just didn’t want to believe you when you told me about your near-death experience.”
“Why?”
“Because, selfishly, I wanted to hear from your dad too. Surely, he’d have a message for us—a quick ‘I love you’ or something?”
“You believe me then?”
Her mom bit her lip, something clearly on her mind.
“With the traffic, it took the ambulance some time to get to you on the highway. You’d lost a lot of blood while you were trapped in the car.
They got you stable, but your blood pressure was incredibly low when you arrived at the hospital.
You coded before I could get there.” Tears filled her eyes.
“I flew to New York, thinking I’d lost you. ”
“So I actually died?”
Her mother blinked away her tears. “Yes. They pumped you with blood while giving you drugs and administering defibrillation to keep you alive. And it worked.”
“If I died, then I could have gone somewhere else, and that means the void is real.”
“It could be. But I was told by the doctor that if the blood supply to the brain is reduced for more than a few minutes, you could have some brain impairment. I assumed your story about the emptiness and hearing God was because you’d lost so much blood.”
“I know I’ve still got tomorrow’s tests to go, but my tests today didn’t show anything wrong with my brain.” Ava leaned forward. “Everything we’ve learned about this life is only the surface of what’s really within us and out there.” She pointed to the velvety sky. “We’ve had it all wrong.”
Tears spilled down her mother’s cheeks.
“Why are you crying? It’s okay you didn’t believe me. I wouldn’t have believed me either.”
“I should’ve believed you, but that’s not why I’m crying. I wish your father had been there for you. So where is he?” she whispered.
Ava’s lip wobbled. “I’ve been wondering the same thing.
” Her own tears began to fall, shocking her.
She’d never allowed herself to cry for her father.
She’d felt it showed weakness, and she knew he’d want her to be strong.
“Do you think he didn’t come because I never cried for him until now?
” Ava asked, guilt swarming her. “Has he been waiting to know how much we love him?”
Her mom tipped her head up toward the starry sky, tears streaming from her eyes. “Oh, Ava, I hope not. I thought being resilient would help you cope. There’s no manual on how to grieve with a child.”
She and her mom had never mourned together over her father.
Their silence had been an unspoken act of strength between them, but sitting there—just the two of them—she let the tears fall.
When she did, her mom cried too. Ava wrapped her arms around her.
They sat, embracing, sobbing over the person they’d both loved so deeply.
Ava wiped the tears away with her wrist. “I’ve been so emotional ever since the accident. I don’t know where it’s coming from.”
“I do.”
Ava locked eyes with her mom.
“Whenever you dealt with hard things, your dad was always your guy. And when you faced the accident—the most difficult thing you’ve ever faced—he wasn’t there.”
“I miss him so much.” Her words withered on her emotion.
“Me too.” Her mother looked back up at the stars. “Think he can see us?”
“I have no idea.”
“I hope he can.”