CHAPTER 13
College changed Ava quickly.
Not into a different person.
Into more of herself.
She called the first week because her roommate snored.
The second week because she failed a chemistry quiz.
The third because a boy named Mason had asked her to coffee and she wanted to know whether “coffee” actually meant coffee.
“I have no useful information.”
“You dated Dad.”
“That proves my judgment is questionable.”
“Rachel!”
“What?”
She laughed.
Eventually, the calls became less frequent.
That was healthy.
At first, I hated it.
Then I realized independence was what all of us had been fighting to give her.
Daniel remained incarcerated.
He wrote monthly.
Ava answered when she wanted.
Their relationship became careful.
Limited.
Real.
He stopped demanding forgiveness.
That helped more than apologies.
During Ava’s first Thanksgiving break, she came home with three bags of laundry and the confidence of someone who had survived twelve weeks without adult supervision.
“I’m basically a functioning citizen.”
“You brought twelve unmatched socks.”
“Society is complicated.”
Margaret hosted Thanksgiving.
I almost declined.
Then Ava asked me to come.
So I did.
The barbecue backyard looked different in November.
Cold.
Bare.
The deck where everything started seemed smaller than I remembered.
Margaret noticed me looking.
“I thought about replacing those stairs.”
“Why?”
She smiled sadly.
“Bad memories.”
“They’re just stairs.”
“I suppose.”
Dinner was surprisingly peaceful.
Nicole came.
Emily came.
Daniel’s brother Matt came too.
He had avoided me for more than a year.
After dessert, he approached while I washed dishes.
“Rachel.”
“Matt.”
He shoved his hands into his pockets.
“I owe you something.”
“If it’s money, talk to Rebecca.”
He smiled nervously.
“An apology.”
I dried my hands.
He looked toward the living room.
“At the barbecue, I knew Ava was exaggerating.”
My chest tightened.
“You saw it?”
“Not clearly.”
“But?”
“I knew you.”
That somehow hurt more.
“I knew you wouldn’t shove her.”
“Yet you said nothing.”
“I thought Daniel would calm down.”
“He didn’t.”
“I know.”
Matt swallowed.
“I was used to staying out of Daniel’s fights.”
“So you stayed out when he attacked me.”
“Yes.”
“Why apologize now?”
“Because Ava told me something.”
“What?”
“She said every adult who stayed silent taught her that lying worked.”
I looked toward the living room.
Ava sat cross-legged on the floor showing Margaret photographs from college.
Matt continued.
“She’s right.”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry.”
I nodded.
“Thank you.”
I did not absolve him.
He did not demand that I do so.
That was progress too.
Later that evening, Ava and I stood on the deck.
Snow threatened in the dark clouds.
“Cold?”
she asked.
“Yes.”
“Then why are we out here?”
“You brought me.”
“Oh.”
She smiled.
“I wanted to ask something.”
“That’s dangerous.”
“Would you ever get married again?”
I laughed.
“That came from nowhere.”
“Mason asked if you were dating.”
“Why was Mason asking about my dating life?”
“He saw your picture.”
“Ava.”
“What? He said you looked young.”
“I am young.”
“You’re forty.”
I stared at her.
“Go inside.”
She laughed.
“Seriously.”
I leaned against the railing.
“I don’t know.”
“Do you want to?”
“Maybe someday.”
“Are you scared?”
“Yes.”
That honesty seemed to satisfy her.
“Good.”
“Good?”
“I don’t want you doing something stupid because you think the story needs a happy ending.”
I stared at her.
“That is surprisingly wise.”
“I’m in college.”
“For three months.”
“Basically a philosopher.”
She became serious.
“You know you already got the happy ending, right?”
I looked at her.
“What do you mean?”
“You got out.”
The cold air seemed to disappear.
Ava continued.
“And Dad got consequences.”
“Yes.”
“And I got to know the truth about Mom.”
“Yes.”
“And Grandma stopped lying for everybody.”
“Mostly.”
Ava smiled.
“And I still have you.”
My throat tightened.
“That’s your happy ending?”
“One of them.”
I looked through the windows.
Nicole was arguing with Matt about football.
Margaret was packing leftovers into containers nobody wanted.
Emily was laughing.
Not the family I expected.
But mine anyway.
“Yeah,” I said.
“One of them.”
That winter, I began dating someone.
His name was Thomas Reed.
He was a history teacher.
Divorced.
Kind.
Painfully punctual.
I met him at a charity fundraiser Emily dragged me to.
For our first date, I nearly canceled twice.
For our second, I told him almost everything about Daniel.
Not every detail.
Enough.
Thomas listened without interrupting.
Then he said, “That sounds like a lot to survive.”
“I hate the word survive.”
“Why?”
“Because it makes me sound damaged.”
He shook his head.
“It makes you sound alive.”
I liked that answer.
I told Ava after the fourth date.
She interrogated me for twenty minutes.
“Does he have debt?”
“Probably a mortgage.”
“Criminal record?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Check.”
“Ava.”
“Does he have secret girlfriends?”
“Again, only four dates.”
“Run a background check.”
“I’m hanging up.”
She laughed.
But underneath the jokes, I understood.
She was protective of me now.
That reversal felt strange.
A year earlier, she had wanted me out of her father’s life.
Now she wanted to make sure no one hurt me again.
I finally said, “You don’t have to protect me.”
She went quiet.
“I know.”
“I mean it.”
“I know.”
“I’m capable of making decisions.”
“You married Dad.”
“Goodbye, Ava.”
She laughed so hard she could barely speak.
I hung up smiling.
May you like
For the first time, Daniel’s name could exist in a joke without ruining the room.
That was healing too.
