Chapter 20
Tucker
I couldn’t find Ava.
She never visited Grandma Flowers. The hospital put me off a second time. I went to the places we’d been, bowling and mini golf and parks, as if somehow she’d be there.
But of course, she wasn’t.
The internet revealed nothing more. Besides, looking at computer screens had gotten difficult, causing migraines I couldn’t control. Pretty regularly, I had the sort of seizure that laid me low for days. I rarely went to my community college classes, and Shelfmart quit scheduling me.
I stayed in bed, the windows blacked out, wishing my head would fall off because it wouldn’t stop hurting.
Both Bill and Carlos kept intense hours between work and school, so my world shrank.
Sometimes, if I was feeling up for it, the three of us would sit on my front porch and talk.
Video games were a thing of the past. Even movies were hard.
Over time, their visits became rare. They might be my best buds, but we had nothing in common anymore. Their lives would move on, classes and girlfriends and futures. Mine was stuck.
As the weather turned cool, Gram went in and out of my room, fetching me washcloths and grilled cheese sandwiches and pain meds that had no effect.
On one of those days, Bill texted a million times, but even the phone screen was too bright to read. Finally, he showed up at my house without bothering to ask if he should.
“Be careful with him,” Gram said as she led him into my room. “He’s had a bad time.”
I couldn’t even chastise her for saying it. Opening my eyes was like shoving a knife into the sockets.
Bill sat on the edge of my bed. “Man, it’s dark in here. Did you turn into a vampire?”
“Something like that. What the hell are you doing here?”
“I saw Ava.”
I bolted upright, the pain lost in my jolt of pure energy. “What? Where?”
“Get this. She works at a Shelfmart in North Austin. I saw her yesterday stocking shelves like it’s no big deal that she dropped off the face of the earth for six months.”
“What did you do?”
“I walked up and said hey.”
“Did she recognize you?”
“No. She asked who I was, and I said she used to double date with a friend of mine.”
“What did she say?”
“She said, ‘That’s a lie. I don’t date.’”
I winced. “What else?”
“I asked for her number.”
“Did you get it?”
“No. She wouldn’t give it to me.”
I rolled to the edge of my bed and stood. I had to get well. Like now. I needed to go to that Shelfmart. I grabbed the pain meds on my desk and took a triple dose. “Tell me exactly which Shelfmart it was.”
“The one we went to that time to buy beer. Where we almost got away with it.”
“I remember.” I moved too quickly, and my head felt like it stayed behind. Regardless, I was going.
“Dude, you don’t look good.”
“I’ve been laid out for a few days.” I sat on my desk chair, fumbling for my shoes.
“Still not able to drive?”
“Not since graduation.”
“You want me to take you over there?”
I struggled with my tennis shoes, then dropped them and stuck my feet into some loafers. “Yeah. What time was she working when you saw her?”
“Like three in the afternoon.”
“Sounds like she does a regular day shift.” Ava hadn’t known Bill yesterday, which means her memory had been reset since she knew us.
But maybe being at a Shelfmart meant some part of her wanted our old plan, working together at the grocery store.
This gave me a lot of hope, like the flower she gave me on that last night:
I love him. Even if I lose my memories. My heart will remember. Always.
“What time is it?” I asked.
“About two.” He glanced at his watch. “You sure you’re up for this right now? You’re not exactly Prince Charming at the moment.”
“This is Ava we’re talking about,” I said.
Bill looked doubtful. “You know, she may not even know who you are.”
“She’ll know me.”
“With her heart?” Bill knew about the flower. I had it on my desk.
He probably hadn’t meant to make it sound like a sneer, but it did.
Regardless, I took the comment seriously. “With her heart.”
I couldn’t afford to doubt it. I had to believe that when we saw each other, she would remember me and know what we’d shared.
I’d get her back. She was everything to me.
The losses in my life had led to the disco room and to her.
She’d trusted me after that memory reset when everyone else was the enemy.
We matched somewhere deep down, beyond memory, beneath both of our medical conditions. We were a team from the inside out.
My life only made sense with her in it. I was positive she’d feel the same way.