Chapter 52 Avalon
fifty-two
Avalon
Itold you, Ember, whatever we had is over,” I play with the straw of my milkshake.
“I know, Aves.” She sighs. “I don’t know what’s gotten into him. I’ve tried to talk to him, to get through to him, but every time I see him, he’s—”
“Wasted.”
“Yeah.”
“Take it from someone who knows,” I begin, “you can’t help an addict, and Zeke’s slowly becoming one.”
“And I’d never put you in that position.”
“I know.” I run my hands through my hair. “God, standing there, seeing him like that, I felt like a little kid again. I told him I couldn’t stand around and watch him become exactly like my mom, and he didn’t care. There wasn’t an ounce of sympathy or pain in his eyes.”
“He’s hurting, Avalon.”
I sit back in the booth and cross my arms.
“I get that. But it doesn’t excuse Zeke’s behavior.
My mom stole from me, got clean, got hooked on drugs again, overdosed, and walked out on me.
Then I ran into the dad who abandoned me, and he basically told me not to mess up his perfect new life, but I didn’t turn into a fucking asshole,” I argue.
“I leaned on Zeke because I thought he loved me. I leaned on him because I trusted him to be there for me.”
“He does love you.”
“Maybe,” I reply. “But if he doesn’t want me to be there for him, there’s nothing I can do.”
“Please tell me you’re going to be there for Elise,” she begs. “She’d want you at her funeral.”
“I don’t know, Ember. I let her down. She asked me to look after him, to stop this spiral, but I let it happen. And now I’ve walked away, and I don’t have any intentions of looking back.”
“She wouldn’t blame you for this. She loved you. Anytime I saw her after I knew about the two of you, all she did was gush about you.” Ember smiles.
“She was the best. Sucks that her son’s a douche.”
Ember laughs, which lightens the mood. I honestly don’t know how I’d get through this if I didn’t have her and the other girls. They welcomed me with open arms.
“Her funeral is next Saturday, April 27th; whether Zeke wants you there or not, you should come. Because Elise’s funeral isn’t for him but for her. Regardless of your feelings toward her son, I know you really liked her.”
“She made me feel like I finally had a real family. I finally understood what it was like to have a mom who cares.”
“I know that feeling all too well,” Ember replies. “But if you can’t face him, we’ll understand.”
I give her a small smile.
“Does that mean he’s going to her funeral?”
This wouldn’t change anything between us, but showing up at his mom’s funeral would be a step in the right direction.
“We don’t know yet. Zeke’s dad’s coming by today to try and talk some sense into him.”
“Good luck to him,” I mumble. If I know anything about Zeke, the last person who’ll get through to him is his dad.
Being home this past week has been weird. It’s strange to go to bed every night without Zeke and even weirder to wake up without him.
The house has an emptiness, and I don’t know how to fill it.
I expect him to be on the other side whenever I open the door. An apology ready. I don’t know what he could say to me to fix the damage he’s done, but I know I’d forgive him.
I miss him.
I hate that I do. I keep telling everyone I’m done, that Zeke’s out of my life, but I don’t want that. I want him to be the man I fell in love with again.
But I don’t know if he’ll ever be that guy again.
I unlock my front door, knowing he won’t be waiting for me, but still praying that he is.
But when I open the door, someone is sitting on the couch… just not the person I want.
“Hola mija.” Her words sting. She’s been gone for months, trying to run away from her problems again, and that’s all she has to say to me?
“I have nothing to say to you,” I mumble. “Puedes salir.”
“Avalon,” this voice comes from the kitchen, and I turn to see Jay, “give her five minutes.”
“Why? Our last conversation was pretty telling; I don’t need to hear any more from her.”
“This,” she slides an envelope across the coffee table, smiling up at me, “is half of what I owe you.”
“Thanks.” I shut the door and head to my room.
“Avalon,” Jay says, causing me to stop in my tracks.
“Look, Jay, today’s been a really shitty day following a really shitty week, and I just don’t want to do this right now.”
“I’m leaving,” she says. “For an eighteen-month program.”
“Eighteen months?” I drop my bag on the floor and look at her. “That’s a year and a half.”
“I’m aware.”
“When do you leave?”
“Jay’s driving me there tonight,” she replies. “It’s in Ohio. The same place you wanted me to go to back in February.”
“What made you change your mind?” I cross my arms. “You seemed pretty against rehab last time I saw you.”
“I hit rock bottom,” she whispers, and I scoff.
“You think you just now hit rock bottom?”
She adjusts on the couch, trying to find the right words, but there aren’t any.
“And you, how long have you been in contact with her?”
“Since earlier this month,” he replies.
“He helped me get things straightened out. I was in a really dark place, doing things for money that I never thought I’d do. But Ronnie took what cash I had on me not long after he got me from the hospital, and I’d do anything to get high.”
“So, what? You guys are in love or something now?”
I hope she hasn’t wormed her way back into Jay’s life. I’m happy she’s ready to work on herself, but Jay doesn’t need this. She does this every time. She pulls him in, knowing his feelings, and uses him until she doesn’t need him.
“No,” he responds, and I swear my mom’s smile fades a little. “Your mom knows that nothing will ever happen between us. There’s too much pain and bad blood.”
“And I’m supposed to go into this program without strings.”
“I just don’t get why you’re here.”
“Solo quería verte una vez más, mija.”
“Well, you’ve seen me.”
Jay frowns as he sits on the chair across from my mom.
“Avalon.” It’s weird hearing him say my name like that. He sounds like a dad. “Sit.”
I run my tongue along my gums, debating whether to sit down or go in my room and slam the door.
I sit.
“I think you need to say everything you feel,” Jay begins. “Even if you scream and cry. Before she leaves, I think she needs to hear it. That way, she knows what needs to be worked on in therapy, aside from just her addiction.”
I don’t even know where to start. I’ve stopped myself time and time again when it comes to airing it all out.
“Te quiero.” That’s not what I expected to say; it kind of just came out. “I don’t think you’re a bad person. You’ve done a lot of bad things, but you’re not a bad person. That being said, you’re not a mom. You’ve never been a mom, not since dad left.”
She adjusts on the couch again, but she relaxes into the cushions this time.
“I understand how you feel, I couldn’t imagine going through what you went through, but in turn, you went and ruined the childhood I could’ve had. I lost my dad; I didn’t need to lose you too.”
It’s like a weight lifted off my chest. One I didn’t even realize I’d been carrying. I thought when I stopped worrying about every phone call I got, thinking this might be it, I’d lost her, that the weight was gone.
I never realized how deep it went.
And sitting here, airing all of it out, while she just sits and listens, taking in every word, I feel relieved.
I don’t know what this means for our future, but I know one thing—
I can finally let go.