Chapter Thirty-Three Cavalry Is Here
Chapter Thirty-Three
Cavalry Is Here
Griffin
My soul cracked like concrete struck by an anvil when Rob showed me and Beverly the video of us at the craft store.
But it crumbled and landslided into pieces when I saw pictures of Ava, shared for the world to see.
Little moments at the diner, the thrift store, and the farmers’ market.
Her face, spread everywhere online without anyone’s consent, including her own.
Jimmy called minutes later, regardless of it being five in the morning in California. I’ve heard this man grumble about “early mornings” until noon, but right now he’s never sounded more alert.
“I’m sorry, Griffin” were his first words, and it stitched a piece of me back together. “How’re you faring?”
I cleared my throat. “Fine. As fine as we can be.”
“And Ava?”
Across the room, Ava giggles on the crocheted rug on the floor, distracted by Bernie Bird set on Beverly’s arm. She squeals—not from fright of our situation but from joyful laughter.
“She has no clue,” I say, pacing away from the living room.
Beverly’s head swivels to me, and I catch her gaze.
She gives a weak smile. I return it. I wish I could still be immersed in the happiness we felt twenty minutes earlier.
Instead, I walk farther down the hall, away from Bernie Bird’s over-the-top punch line squawks and my daughter’s squeals of joy.
Jimmy sighs. “She has no idea her life is about to change forever.”
I swallow, gritting my jaw and resting my palm on the frame of Beverly’s bedroom door. I’m not sure even I fully understand how much change is coming. I’m not sure my brain wants to process it.
“Why?” I ask. “What are you seeing online?”
“My inbox hasn’t been this full since your appearance on the comedy show.”
That night now feels like years ago.
“Where’d they get pictures?” I ask.
Jimmy lets out another exhale, and I know his answer before he says it.
“That town. You knew it wasn’t going to be airtight, Griffin.”
“I was optimistic.”
“For once in your life.”
I thought I was getting away with something.
There’s a rustling on his side of the line. I can just imagine his hands running through his hair, ruining the gel.
“All I’ve got,” he says, “is some woman named Taylor.”
My stomach drops.
Taylor. Thrift-store Taylor.
Not kind. Not nice. Not even a little bit.
From the living room, Nana groans, “Are you kidding me?”
I walk back down the hall to peer out the sliding glass door. A couple of cars idle in the road.
Greg cycles toward them and stops at the end of the driveway. He slams down the kickstand, waving his fingerless gloves in the air. “Private property, you vultures!” But all that does is make the cars putter farther down the street and wait there instead.
I don’t recognize the cars. Could be locals I haven’t met yet, but I doubt it. It’s likely a nearby reporter or two making a beeline to get the story, somehow having acquired Beverly’s address too.
I relaxed too much in Elk Grove, and I forgot it was possible to be uncomfortable. Things always leak. I should have known better.
“So what now, Jimmy?” I ask. “We’ve got people waiting outside their house.”
At that, even Beverly’s eyebrows pinch inward. For a second, I wonder if she’s angry at me. But the scathing look is angled toward the street.
Jimmy sighs. I don’t like the sound of it. “You know what you need to do. I don’t have to say it.”
He doesn’t.
I need to leave Elk Grove early. This is an unsafe environment for Ava now.
At least in LA, our yard is gated. That type of protection doesn’t exist here, despite Maria now pulling down the road in her rickety red truck, followed by Eddie and Tom.
All three of them honk, but it carries just as much of an intimidation factor as Greg’s bicycle.
The door opens downstairs, and Greg stomps up to our floor, removing his coat with a “Cavalry is here.”
“I can book you plane tickets this afternoon,” Jimmy says in my ear.
I nod, glancing over at the living room, with Beverly distracted by the commotion outside and the rest of the family cornering Greg for any information. I find Ava blinking at me. As if she knows.
She waves.
I wave back.
I should have kept her safe.
“Yeah, book a flight,” I say.
Jimmy says he’ll text me details once it’s done, and we both hang up. I toss the phone from palm to palm, walking over and then crouching down in front of Ava.
“Hey, munchkin.”
“Hi, hi” is what I get back, making me chuckle as I run a hand across her bangs and kiss the bare forehead beneath.
I stand again. Greg, Nana, Rob, and Beverly watch me intently.
Beverly’s back is pressed against the kitchen wall, steadying herself with flat hands.
I want to grab one and pull it into mine, just like we did last night.
I want to recreate perfection, but those moments—the ones with fumbling limbs over a quilted twin mattress—are a lone bright star in a crowd of night sky.
My life is the infinite space around it, the one with paparazzi and a daughter I can’t protect no matter how hard I try.
I hold Beverly’s gaze, trailing over her green eyes, parsing through her expression, which slowly pinches tighter. She’s more serious than I’ve ever seen her.
“Go,” she says. “You need to.”
“Go!” Ava calls up from the rug, kicking her feet and laughing like this is a game.
Nana’s head shoots up. Greg shakes his head.
“You don’t have to leave,” he says.
“Beverly’s right. I do,” I respond.
She bites the inside of her cheek, as if hating that I agreed. But we both know it’s the right call. Just like Jimmy, she understands.
Finally, Nana claps her palms together. “Do what you have to do. We’ll handle it here.”
“We’ll find out who did this,” Greg says.
Nana grins. “And what exactly are you going to do when you find out, Gregory?”
Greg shrugs. “I won’t make them strawberry cake, I’ll tell you that.”
I should tell them it was Taylor who sent in pictures. Pictures she collected over the past few weeks, likely waiting until the best moment to share. But Elk Grove is a peaceful snow globe that doesn’t need another shake-up. I’ve done enough damage already.
I glance at Beverly, but she’s too focused on her feet. I wish nobody else was here but me and her, sorting through this news together. I wish we were still at the diner, eating scrambled eggs and toast and drinking coffee. I wish I was giving her a third cup, joking about Birds ideas and lyrics.
But that isn’t my life.
I run a hand over my beard. “I should have told you all about Ava. I’m sorry.”
Nana scoffs. “Wouldn’t have changed a thing if we knew. We still adore her. She’d get pancakes either way.”
I still feel a tension in the air, permeating like the fog over the mountain, shrouding the past few weeks we had. Maybe it’s the lie still hanging over us, or maybe it’s that we all know Ava won’t have diner pancakes after today.
Rob clears his throat and crosses his arms. He opens his mouth, shuts it, then finally says, “You didn’t do this. Beau did.”
Beverly jerks her head to him. Rob looks at the ground, uneasily shifting from foot to foot and sighing.
“He confirmed it,” Rob continues. “And he didn’t have to.”
It’s quiet for another moment until Greg asks, “How did he even know?”
“I didn’t say anything,” Beverly says. Her jaw is tight. Her eyes determined as she finally meets mine. “I swear.”
Like a moth drawn to a flame, I pace over and take her hand. I don’t care that we haven’t officially defined whatever we are.
“Okay,” I say, adding, “I know.” I believe you. I trust you. She has to know that.
My phone buzzes in my opposite palm. I flip it over. It’s flight information from Jimmy, and the departure time stabs right through my chest.
“Jimmy booked me a flight,” I say. “I’m leaving in two hours.”
Beverly inhales, pushing her shoulders up to her ears, then forces a smile that would be so beautiful if her eyebrows didn’t give her sadness away.
“Then we should get you packing.”
When she squeezes my hand, I wish she wouldn’t let go.
Greg finally claps, definitively ending the discussion. “I’ll prepare snacks for the road.”
Rob stares at the ground. As if he could feel me watching, his eyes dart up. He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he walks back to his bedroom and shuts the door.
Beverly’s head tilts to the side as she bites her bottom lip, looking from my hands to her brother’s closed door.
“Go,” I say. “Talk to him.”
Nana pats her forearm. “I’ll help Griffin pack, honey.”
Beverly’s eyes find mine, and I give the best smile I can manage.
“Go,” I repeat. “We can go to the airport and talk then.”
The thought of an airport feels too definitive, so I push the thought aside. Now isn’t the time, anyway.
Beverly nods. “Okay. But save the toy packing for me,” she says, pointing a finger. “I want to make sure Ava is getting all the good stuff.”
“You got it, B.”
Beverly is still so positive.