“Take it. All of it. Anything you want. Whenever you want it.”
Chapter 18
Ava
“Do you mind if we watch Connor’s game?” I ask Mom as she settles on the couch with a blanket and her tablet. She’s started reading for pleasure now, which is a huge step, but I wonder how it’s possible she can remember what she reads but can’t remember the life-changing moment that happened only yesterday.
“Yes, Ava. You don’t need to ask my permission to watch your boyfriend,” she mumbles, rolling her eyes.
“He’s not my—”
“Quit it,” Trevor cuts in, setting up the TV for me.
“Quit what?” I huff out.
“Lying to yourself.”
He has a point.
The stream starts just as the team walks onto the court, and Connor—he runs out holding the balloon—still inflated—that I’d left on his porch earlier. He squeezes it until it pops, then shoves the remains down his pants. I bust out a laugh at the same time Trevor says, “Your boy’s weird.”
“You are!”
“You sure feel passionately for a boy who isn’t your boyfriend.”
I sit on the floor between the couch and the coffee table and watch the game. Even Trevor seems interested. Maybe because it’s the first game of the playoffs and if they win this and the next, they go to regionals. It’s only halftime but St. Luke’s is a much stronger team, and the scoreboard proves it. If Connor weren’t playing, I’d be bored out of my mind.
When the second half starts, Mom puts down her tablet and pats the spot on the couch next to her. I get up and sit with her under the one blanket. Connor scores the next five points, and Mom shifts next to me, sitting forward, her eyes glued to the screen. She watches the game. I watch her. Because there’s something in her stare, in the way her eyes widen just slightly every time Connor appears. “You like watching Connor play, Mama?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
Trevor asks, “You think his jump shot’s improved?”
“I don’t know,” Mom murmurs. “But I feel… something.” She taps at her chest. “In here.”
My spine straightens, hope filling my heart. “You do?”
“Like um…” Her bottom lip trembles. “Like, happiness.” She turns to me. “But… but I don’t know why.”
Trevor and I glance at each other quickly. I ask her as gently as possible, “You don’t remember?”
Her lips pull down. “No, Ava,” she says, shaking her head, her eyes filling with tears. “I don’t remember.” The first sob comes a second later, and I wrap my arms around her, feel her shoulder shudder against my cheek.
I stroke her hair, the way she used to do for me. “It’s okay, Mama.”
“It’s not!” She pulls back, gaze alternating between Trevor and me. “What else don’t I remember?”
“Mama Jo,” Trevor tries to soothe, moving to squat in front of her. Hands on her knees, he adds, “It’s okay. As long as you remember who you are and who we are, nothing else is important.”
Mom’s shaking her head, the heel of her palm slapping against her temple. I reach up and try to get her to stop. “Birthdays and holidays and…” She focuses on Trevor. “Why aren’t you in Texas?”
Trevor’s sharp inhale catches in his throat, and he looks to me for answers.
“Are you here for me?” she asks him.
Trevor’s eyes drift shut.
“Are you!” she demands.
“I don’t…” Trevor breathes out, his gaze on me, pleading.
Static fills my mind. Mom’s never been like this before, never to the point she doesn’t understand what’s going on around her. “Trevor works here now,” I tell her, a half-truth.
She looks around the house as if it’s the first time she’s seeing it. “Where’s William?” It’s been a long time since she’s brought up Trevor’s dad, and the last time… it was the onset of too many negative days to count.
On the TV, Connor scores again. Mom’s nose scrunches. “Connor,” she whispers and taps her heart again. “Happiness.” Then her face falls, and the new onslaught of cries begins. She rocks in her place, back and forth, back and forth, her fist moving from her temple to her heart, again and again. “I don’t remember. I don’t remember. I don’t remember…”
Ava: Hey. I wasn’t able to watch the whole game. I’m sorry. It looked like you guys were heading for a W, though.
Connor: Yeah, it was a cakewalk. You okay?
Ava: Call me when you’re done celebrating?
Connor: No celebrations for me tonight. I need to rest. About to get in an ice bath. Join me?
Ava: I wish.
Ava: I miss you, Connor.
Connor: I’ll call you as soon as