I look down. As plain as the nose on my face, is Gunner’s name. I must have unconsciously written it down at some point, I just don’t remember. Problem is, mama’s on to me, and she can spot a lie from a mile away.
“I…I do have a crush on him, mama, but that’s all.” my voice quivers, betraying me. That’s the closest I’ve ever come to lying to my mama. I didn’t tell her how much I love him. I didn’t tell her how badly I miss him. I didn’t tell her how awful I feel about how I’ve left things with him. And I didn’t tell her how I’m terrified that I’ve lost the only love I’ll ever know, for the rest of my life. Instead, I just tell her that I’m fond of him.
And I don’t even see it coming. I just feel it. Like my cheek exploded. Not a moment later, I’m on the floor. When my mama’s real mad, she doesn’t yell, she seethes. And through gritted teeth, as she stares at my eyes that are begging to shed tears, but I suck them back, she says. “Don’t you ever lie to me again, little girl.”
“Y…yes, mama.” I whisper, praying to God that daddy didn’t tell her what really happened, praying to God that daddy won’t ever tell her. But most of all, I’m praying to God that some day, some time, I’ll find that woman inside me that Gunner found so easily…and let her shine. Because she’s the only person that could ever have the courage to stand up to mama or daddy. And without her, I’m just a little girl trapped inside a woman’s body…for the rest of my life.
***
It’s still there. Mama didn’t find it. Taped to the underside of my underwear drawer is the tiny sheaf of paper that Ms. Wellman gave to me. I check the front door to make sure that both my folks’ cars are gone, and they are, and then I dial her number. She answers on the first ring. “Hello?”
“Ms. Wellman? This is Ava Long. We spoke the other day?”
“Hi, Ava. How are you?”
“I’m okay.” I lie, like it’s goddamn gospel.
“I’m so glad you called. Are you home from school again this weekend?”
It was the longest week of my life. Gunner, God love him, as much as it’s incredibly painful, is trying his best to ignore me, respecting my wishes. He’s even sat in the back of the classroom, so that I can have whatever seat I want, going easy on me. “Yes. I hate to bother you, but do you think we can meet somewhere?”
“Well, sure, darlin’. How about you come over to my place? I’m just grading some papers, but I would sure enjoy your company.”
“Where do you live?”
She tells me. It’s going to take me an hour to bike there, but I digress. “Can I come over in an hour?”
“You can come anytime.”
“I’ll see you then.”
When I arrive, her warm smile withers as soon as she sees my face. I know the welt is still there. It feels like sunburn, and trying to hide it will only irritate it, as I’ve learned many times. It’s best just to hide and let it heal, saying nothing to bring any attention to it, least of all to mama and daddy. “Come on in, Ava. Would you like some tea?”
“Sure. Thanks.”
Her house is sweet. A tiny bungalow on the outside, but with all the modern conveniences inside. It looks newly renovated with shiny hardwood floors, a gleaming white kitchen, and the softest looking leather couch I’ve ever seen, in the living room. There is a hallway at the back of the open concept home. Where I assume the bedrooms are. On the coffee table are the papers she said that she was grading.
“I love your place. Very cozy.”
“Thank you. My sister is an interior designer.”
“Wow.” Is all I can think of to say.
She sets the kettle on the stove to boil while pulling two mugs out of the cupboard and placing tea bags in them.
“Your folks know where you are, Ava?”
I shake my head as she hands me the mug of tea. “No. They’re both at work.”
She sits at the small table in the kitchen, across from me. “So, I’m assuming that’s not your boyfriend’s work on your cheek.” She says on exhale. “Is there anything you want to do about it?”
It takes me a moment to respond. “I’m eighteen years old and until now I never saw it as being wrong.”
“But it felt wrong.”
“It never felt right. But it’s all I knew.”
“And your folks kept you under lock and key so you’d never know any better.”
