“Thank you,” I say in a deadpan tone. “And? Do you have any advice, boy wizard?”
“It seems like you and all of your friends have spent your entire lives trying to live openly and honestly without secrets,” Ava says very seriously. “Why would you let someone, like, walk into your life again after all these years and completely fuck it up by asking you to be dishonest? Believe me, if Billy the Hillbilly is doing this with you, it’s not his first rodeo.”
I am stunned by her clarity and wisdom.
“But what if I still have feelings for him? What if I made a mistake? What if he can resurrect my career?”
“TBH? What you just said is the biggest cap I’ve heard in a minute.”
I have no idea what Ava just said but pretend as if I do.
“Go on.”
“He’s using you, bruh. He wants a little boy toy in the desert. Then, when the movie is over, he’ll go back to his life, and you’ll be replaced with someone else.”
“But he promised me a role in his movie.”
“Is he lying? And is it worth it?” Ava asks. “You just preached to me about being unique, and I’m sorry, but cheating is basic as fuck.”
Ava suddenly flips over on the floaty. On her lower back is an infinity tattoo, the ink freshly purple, the skin surrounding it still pink.
“Gabe and I got matching tattoos after my grandpa died,” she says, catching me looking. “It was a way to bond us together, and a way for me to see my future as having infinite possibilities, not like my grandma and grandpa.”
“That’s permanent,” I say.
“No shit, Sherlock,” she says. “My family is gonna find out. And maybe it’s a mistake, but it’s my mistake.”
Ava flips back over to face me.
“Your mistake isn’t permanent yet,” she continues. “But I guarantee it’s a mistake that will leave a bigger mark than my tattoo. It’ll leave a forever mark. Inside. One that will never fade. At least I can turn this tattoo into, like, a butterfly or something if Gabe turns out to be a total asshole, but can you turn your scar into something beautiful if your fling with Kyle goes up in smoke? Just know you have to be able to live with the consequences of your decision. You, Barry, and no one else. If not, walk away. Now.”
“What if it never happens?” I ask.
“You said you haven’t had the next day figured out for the last forty years,” she says. “You said you love the unknown. You said my light could change not only those around us but also the world. So could yours. I actually don’t think you have boy troubles.”
“I don’t?” I ask. “What do I have, then?”
“You have Barry troubles,” Ava says. “All the boys in your life are just a distraction from your dream because you don’t think that you’re good enough. And that’s really pretty sad, don’t you think?”
My cell trills.
Ava glares at me.
I ignore it. She smiles.
“Alexa?” she calls. “Play...”
Ava turns to me.
“What’s the name of the singer out here who has your name?”
“Barry Manilow.”
“What Barry Manilow song would you suggest we listen to?”
“Alexa?” I call. “Play ‘I Made It Through the Rain.’”
When the song finishes, Ava says, “That was beautiful.”
