“God puts everyone in our lives for a reason. I truly believe that. Pay attention to those that make you feel special. Sometimes they’re only in our lives for a moment, and then they’re gone, but it’s those tiny bits of time that leave an imprint, that are so important.” Ava continues, talking about how her folks locked her away in her room for days, kept her from seeing her friends outside of school, and then she tells a very eye-opening story that just about tears my fucking heart out. “The first time I fell in love, it was about a year ago, with a man that was only in my life for a few days. My folks took me away from him, and it wasn’t until I met the most giving, caring person, who is now my foster mom, that I really began to understand the depths of abuse and neglect that I’d been through.”
My jaws are clenched so hard but I don’t notice it until my teeth hurt. My eyes are pinned to Ava, as if I’d lose my sight if I didn’t. They’re so wide I’m sure the whites of them are glowing from a mile away. She goes on to explain how she found this group, and how it has helped her by helping others, and I’m in awe of how eloquently she describes her experience, without making it sound pitiful, and without making it sound like she’s been victimized. It’s more like she feels empowered, and I think that’s the point.
“We are all in this world for a purpose. And there are many evils around us, but we have to see the good in everything, and stand out amongst the people who want to tear us down. We are stronger than that. And together, we can help each other, because we are not alone.” She goes into statistics on abuse, and it’s alarming. “I want y’all to know that this group is here for you. I’m here for you. You need a friend. I’m your friend. Don’t ever feel alone, because you are not.” She closes with a question and answer period, and personally, I wouldn’t dare open my mouth to speak about something so personal, but it’s both shocking and impressive, how after Ava’s speech, that people feel comfortable enough to ask.
I sit there, shocked, enlightened, uncertain, and, oddly, a little bit proud. So many things make sense, yet so many others don’t. What are you supposed to say to a person when you find out something like this? I don’t even know where to start. Am I too embarrassed to even speak to her now? After the way that I treated her? After the horrible way that I’ve been thinking of her? I’m thinking that I had her all wrong, and I’m so sorry, but I don’t even know where to begin. Then I worry that she’ll recognize me and be mortified that I do know, but there’s no way for me to slip out without being noticed.
As I sit, blending into the crowd, not making any sort of eye contact, as she takes more questions and then moves on to a clever exercise where she takes anonymous questions that have been submitted via text. Some of them are really good and she answers them succinctly. Finally, she closes with some kind remarks and directions on how to find her and informs us that there will be a simple draw after the presentation for a gift card.
As we mill out of there, I manage to escape unnoticed. I’ve missed my class so I text a friend and meet up so we can exchange notes. “What happened to you, man?” Cole asks. He’s also going into engineering and we’ve hung out after class a couple of times.
“Went into the wrong theatre and there was no escape.” I explain with a scoff.
“What, y’all couldn’t just get up and walk out? Tell the truth and say that you’re in the wrong class?”
“Naw, man. It was like a speech thing, and there were no other seats except up front.”
“Were they at least talking about something interesting?” He asks, opening his binder to his notes. I start taking them down immediately.
“Child abuse and shit, man.” I answer, somewhat crassly, so he doesn’t think I’m soft about it.
He scrunches his face. “Man. I would have run out of there faster than a bat out of hell.”
“Like I said, it was easier said than done.”
“I get it, man. Hey, we just did theory and shit during class. You didn’t miss much.” Cole assures. “But there’s a quiz on Friday, so don’t forget to study all this shit from tonight, man.”
“Hey, thanks. I appreciate it.”
***
Why, I don’t know, but I find myself parked at the mouth of the lot, leaving my truck out of sight, while sitting on a bench, close to the bus shelter. Ava’s bound to come out sometime, and I don’t know, I just have to see her. I have no idea if I want to talk to her or what, but, for whatever reason, after class, I hopped into my truck, and here I am. It seems like hours when I finally see her body walk up the pathway, and I freeze.
Where I’m sitting, she can’t see me, and I'm sort of drunk on that thought, but I'm also mildly concerned. If she can’t see me, then how many other people have been sitting here, unseen? She walks by, looking at a sheaf of paper, not peering up at all, until she reaches the empty shelter. It’s dark out, and I have to remind myself that Ava is an adult, because my inner parent is telling me that a young girl like that shouldn’t be sitting alone in the dark, waiting for a bus. But it’s clear that she doesn’t own a car and doesn’t have anyone that can come pick her up. And my heart sinks.
Half of me wants to offer to drive her home, but half of me is still too ashamed, confused, and simply speechless. What would I even say to her once I got her into the truck? Oh, by the way, I heard the entire speech. Yeah, I know that your folks used to beat you. Sorry about that. Sure, that doesn’t sound at all stupid, insensitive, and really driving home how much of an asshole I am. A bus pulls up but she doesn’t get on, and I can’t help but wonder just how far away she lives.
Finally, five minutes later, she gets on another bus. My stalker self tells me to follow her, and stupidly, I do. Turns out, she lives in some tiny housing complex right near where my mama goes to church. It’s just a small pocket of houses, no more than twenty or thirty of them, all nestled in behind the church. Surprisingly, it’s only one bus ride to the corner of her street, and I nonchalantly follow behind her. Again, she makes it easy to stalk her, since she’s got one eye inside a textbook, even as she walks to her door. She must have goddamn night vision or something.
The door is locked when she arrives, and I wonder why this woman that she lives with didn’t accompany her home, but as I sit in the street, parked on the other side, I see her pull up and disembark from a car dropping her off, and she’s filled with armloads of unmarked bags full of stuff. Even more confused, I decide to sit there, for no good reason, and watch. Ava comes out with a mug of tea ten minutes later, and sits on the front porch. She’s got a book in her hand again, and I wonder how often she’s seen without one. I want to go out there and talk to her, but I don’t know what to say.
And it seems like that starts to happen a lot. I find myself following her around for weeks. Figuring out her schedule, seeing where she works at the restaurant, watching her wait for the bus at school, and I pretend that this is our new arrangement. That I watch her, keeping her safe, keeping my eye on her so that nobody can hurt her again. That’s what I realize is happening when I see someone hugging her, and I’m about to get up and ask if she needs help, when it occurs to me that that’s her foster mama.
I figure one day I’ll get caught. Maybe it’ll be a good thing. Maybe it won’t. But until I can make my mind up about what I want to do with Ava, I’ll take my chances.
...but I still can’t help feeling like curiosity may kill the cat here.
Chapter 12
Ava
“Are you ready to go, Ava?” Felicia calls to me from the living room. We’re headed to our church, for a bazaar, to help raise funds for homeless children in the area. Felicia has been collecting items for weeks for this event; from friends, colleagues, family, neighbors, everyone. We had to ask a neighbor, who has a truck, to bring the things to the church for us.
“Yep. All ready.” I made some banners and grabbed signage boards and other supplies. Felicia is already out on the front porch, amongst the bags, when I see her. A pickup truck drives by as I stuff a handful of things into the bed of the truck. An eerie feeling runs through me, as I can’t see the driver, and he seems to be taking off a little too aggressively.
“You know that boy, Ava?” Felicia asks nonchalantly, as she also slides a bag into the back of the truck.
“Who?”
