Chapter Ten
The next day was Christmas Eve; Avila and Ebony bought plants at the local home goods store. When Ebony wasn’t looking, Avila
shoved some gift cards for Ebony into the cart and paid for them at the self-checkout. Avila couldn’t get Ebony a whole lot
this year, but she was going to buy her daughter something for the holidays.
Once they arrived home, she set the plants on the kitchen counter and hid the gift cards in a drawer.
Samantha called and invited them over for Christmas Eve. Avila said that Ebony could hang out with them for a few hours, but
she wanted to stay home. Avila intended to do some work on the house, bake cookies, and start preparing a simple holiday meal
for the two of them.
Samantha picked up Ebony, leaving Avila alone in the house. From the window, she saw Terence pull into his driveway. A flit
of anticipation filled her, but soon after, she felt hesitation. Avila didn’t want to have another conversation with Terence
about her stunted career as a performing artist or about dating.
She cleaned out the attic, but when she took a glance at the piles of boxes and old papers and old furniture, she almost changed her mind. “Might as well get started.” She grabbed a dusty box and headed back down to the living room. Then she grabbed two more and also placed them in the living room, opening them all.
The first box was filled with old awards and certificates. All of those things belonged to her father. A part of her felt
a bit of nostalgia when seeing them. She carefully set them aside, intending to find a nice home for them. The next box contained
yearbooks from her parents and old cards and letters. She was about to set it near the recycling bin in the kitchen, when
a small stack of antique-looking cards in the box captured her attention. Avila carefully lifted them out; the dust made her
sneeze. Her eyes watered, and she told herself it wasn’t due to crying but because of the dustiness.
The first was a “Congratulations on Your New Baby” card. She opened it and saw Ms. Mable’s name scrawled at the bottom, in
beautiful penmanship. Why had her mom saved all of these cards? Or maybe it was her dad who had saved them?
Avila couldn’t remember who had saved them. Her memory was faulty at times, but the good things about the time spent with
her father she had never forgotten.
When she was a kid, her father taught her how to tie her shoes. He even took her fishing. He smelled like cigarettes and spearmint
gum and made her feel important and secure. She remembered feeling lost and scared when he left them. Months after he left,
she tried to remember everything about him, and she kept little mementos to remind her.
Once, her mother had seen all of the mementos that Avila had saved. For a moment, Avila had been worried that her mother would make her throw them away, but she didn’t. Her mother had given her a sympathetic smile and moved on to her next task. When Avila left for college, she left all of these memorabilia behind. Her mother must’ve saved all of it in these boxes.
Curiosity had overtaken the room as Avila sat there, sorting through all of the boxes. Her cell phone rang, and she pressed
the Talk button.
“Mom, Heather wants me to spend the night,” Ebony said. “Is that okay with you?”
Avila wanted to say no. That tomorrow was Christmas, and she wanted them to be together. The house was too empty, too lonely,
and the memories haunted her. But then she wanted Ebony to spend some time with new friends. So much of Ebony’s life in New
Jersey was spent with peers who were competitive or snobby or who didn’t fully accept her. It was the typical private school
environment. Perhaps Ebony needed a change, at least while they were here. Even as Avila agreed to have Ebony stay overnight,
her mind was racing. There was no way she was going to stay in this house alone all evening, especially on Christmas Eve.
“You can spend the night, but please be back by eight o’clock in the morning. That way we can spend Christmas morning together.”
“Okay. I’ll tell Heather’s mom.”
After she got off the phone, she stood, grabbed her purse, and opened the back door. She needed to get out of there. She spotted
her old bike and helmet, hopped on, and began pedaling, to where she didn’t even know, but she welcomed the freedom and the
sense of the breeze blowing up against her cheeks.
Avila didn’t know where she was going until she spotted the old diner, and it was still open. The idea of getting a soda and a burger had more appeal than ever before. She parked her bike against the diner’s wall and then headed inside. No one seemed to notice her entrance, and she looked around for the hostess to give her a seat. Moments later, a young woman in her thirties appeared with a menu in hand. “Are you dining in tonight?”
Avila nodded yes.
“Follow me; we have a booth in the back.”
She did, and settled in a booth near the big-screen television. A football game was playing, and Avila watched while at the
same time perusing the menu.
“Your waitress will be with you in a minute,” the hostess offered.
Moments later, the waitress arrived and set a glass of cold ice water before her. “Do you know what you want to have for a
drink?”
“Yes. I’d like a Coke with no ice, please, and I know what I’m going to order,” Avila replied.
“Go right ahead.” The waitress took a pad and pencil from her back pocket.
Avila ordered a deluxe cheeseburger and fries and watched the football game as she waited for her order. A couple sat across
from her, and they looked as if they were in deep conversation with one another. The man leaned over and whispered to the
woman, and she blushed. He didn’t take his eyes off her.
Stop being nosy, Avila.
About ten minutes later, the waitress arrived with Avila’s meal. “You look familiar,” the waitress said to her.
Avila shrugged. “I grew up here. I’ve been gone for about a decade, though.”
“Cool. Welcome home.”
Home? The waitress’s welcome filled her with a sense of unease, especially after she had just gone through the first couple of boxes from the attic. She shrugged off the feeling.
“So what’s your name?”
She looked at the waitress, whose eyes were filled with friendliness. “Avila.”
“Ooh, that’s unique. Do you know how your parents came up with that name?”
“My mom was religious, so I’m named after the birthplace of one of her favorite saints.”
“Avila. Avila. I feel like I’ve heard that name before. I just don’t know where.”
Avila paused, weighing whether she should tell her more about herself. “I used to do community theater in high school.”
“Where?”
“The Little Theater of Charleston.”
Her eyes widened. “What years?”
“Back in 2007. I was in Lorraine Hansberry’s A Raisin in the Sun . I played Beneatha Younger.”
“No kidding. I saw that play back in the day. I remember you.”
Avila’s cheeks warmed. “There was no way that you remembered me from all those years ago.”
“I sure do. My parents own that theater, and you gave a phenomenal performance. I remember thinking to myself, ‘That young
lady is going places.’”
Avila’s heart shrank. She gave a half-smile and focused on her food.
“I’m Shalimar, by the way.”
Avila didn’t look up. “Nice to meet you.
The waitress stood, as if wanting to ask her more. “So what brings you back to Charleston?”
That was a loaded question, and Avila didn’t feel like getting into all of the details of it with her. “I’m here to sell my mother’s house. I’m just spending some time prepping it for the market and all.” The words came out very easily, and she was happy about that. “I live in New Jersey with my daughter. It’s a wonderful place to live. Lots of things to do; there’s always lots of great things to do in Jersey.”
Why did she have to tell Shalimar all of that information? Maybe that compliment was getting to her.
“Awesome,” Shalimar said.
For the next few minutes, they discussed the differences between the North and the South, and every so often, Shalimar stepped
aside to tend to another customer. But she always came back.
Avila inhaled the burger and asked for a second cola. She knew all of this food was bad for her, but she didn’t care. It was
better than looking through those old mementos and thinking about her father.
She was feeling full and at ease, so she set her chin in her palm and talked to Shalimar even more. The waitress asked Avila
about her days in community theater, and, after some hesitation, Avila was able to talk about it. It actually felt good to
do so, like she wasn’t hiding this part of herself anymore. That sense of emptiness and the anxiety of being alone in the
house faded away. Even her worries about Terence didn’t seem to bother her as much anymore.
“You know, the Little Theater of Charleston is having auditions for The Piano Lesson this weekend. You should try out.”
“Me?”
“Yeah, you.” Shalimar giggled. “Who else would I ask?”
Avila shrugged. “I haven’t acted in the longest time. I don’t think I’m as talented as I used to be.”
“I bet you are.” Shalimar smiled and reached in her back pocket. “Here’s the contact information for the theater. You can
go online and read about the roles and audition requirements.”
Why was she so insistent? “I’m only here for a short time.”
“Just thought I’d share.” Shalimar left and tended to another table. Going on an audition at her age would be nuts. Ebony
could audition, if it didn’t conflict with their travel plans, but not Avila. Never Avila.
Avila looked at the card Shalimar had given her. The thought was nice.