Summer remained quiet, not intruding but lending her company. And for Ava, that was enough.
When her shoulder grew numb and her back ached from laying down so long, Ava sat up. She gathered her hair into an elastic tie and rubbed at her eyes to clear the last of her tears. Her face felt puffy and overheated, swollen from crying.
Summer sat up with her, rearranging to sit cross-legged against the headboard.
“Owen told me about your dad’s ashes,” Summer broke the silence.
The reminder sent a wave of guilt through her. Guilt for so many things she’d been running from. Things she’d refused to cry about or even think about for years, instead choosing to ignore them to avoid the discomfort of facing them head on.
“I don’t know why he’s so nice to me. I broke his fucking heart, and he still looks out for me. And why? I don’t deserve it. I was a shitty girlfriend and an even shittier daughter. Who doesn’t visit their dad for a decade? Me, apparently. And he died alone, unexpectedly, with no one he loved surrounding him. And that’s on me.”
Summer rubbed her back but said nothing. What could she say that would make it better? Nothing, in Ava’s mind. Nothing she would listen to. Not right now.
They sat like that, Summer allowing her to process and wrangle her thoughts into some semblance of order, not pushing or prodding or reassuring, but simply being with her. When the guilt and the hurt became bearable, and Ava felt certain she wouldn’t cry any more, she once again felt around for her phone, assuming it was somewhere in the bed with her.
“What time is it?”
“Almost nine.”
Ava patted the bedspread and under the pillow, feeling around for her phone. After a half-hearted search, she gave up. It didn’t matter, anyway.
“Uh, it’s almost nine in the morning. Pretty sure you were out of it all night. Owen stayed until I could come over after teaching my sunrise yoga class this morning.”
Ava reared back in shock.
Owen stayed?
Ava looked down at her wrinkled shirt and leggings covered in fuzz from the fleece blanket she’d curled under. She was sure her face and hair looked even more rumpled. An unpleasant coppery tang filled her mouth, and breathing through her nose was nearly impossible.
“I should probably shower,” she said after taking stock of herself.
Summer glanced at her watch.
“A hot shower cures all. Plus, we have to pick up Morgan in about an hour, so we need to get moving. You can cry more in the shower as long as you wash your face while you’re at it.”
Summer stood up from the bed and held a hand out to Ava to help her up.
“Morgan, likemyMorgan? In New York?”
Had she forgotten about a visit from her friend? She could admit her brain felt scattered at the moment, but surely, she would’ve remembered something like that.
“Yes,yourMorgan. Figured I needed reinforcements, so you get both of your besties to pull you out of your depressive funk. You’re lucky I love you enough to put up with her,” Summer said.
Ava took the offered hand and scooted out of the bed. Overwhelming affection swelled in her. The whiplash from grief to guilt to appreciation was disorienting, like she was watching someone else go through her motions.
“Thanks, Summer. I don’t deserve your friendship,” Ava said.
Summer wrapped her in a tight hug, resting her chin against the side of Ava’s head, so close Ava could feel Summer’s jaw moving when she spoke next.
“You deserve the world, Birdie. Eventually you’ll realize that.”
“So, this is the box? It seems so …small.”
Morgan lifted the cardboard box off the table to test its weight. The blue box with a lid that the ashes sat inside was no larger than a piece of paper. She agreed with Morgan’s sentiment. It seemed small for a man so large.
Summer gently took the box out of Morgan’s hands and cradled it. “Maybe don’t pick up people’s ashes without asking,” Summer said.
“I know you didn’t just snatch that out of my hands.” Morgan raised her dark brows at Summer.
