I wave goodbye and turn away, my heart heavy.
37
When I get home, Brian is sitting in our living room, a glass of red in hand. The boys are nowhere to be seen. I haven’t been gone for very long, but in that short time, I’ve committed a multitude of sins; lust, pride, wrath and the list goes on. I regret them all now.
I feel dirty, undeserving of Brian’s love. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry too.”
I sit next to him and stare down at our area rug, spotless of course. I almost laugh at the sight of our flawless living room; everything in its place, color coordinated, and set up just so, not a dust bunny in sight. We give off the illusion of perfection when in reality, our lives are a mess. We desperately need to tidy things up, to communicate, figure our life out. We need to fix this Ava issue, for all our sakes, especially hers.
“Who was it?” he asks in hushed tones. “In the white SUV?”
I turn slowly to face him. I’m not going to keep any secrets. “That was Joel. Ava’s dad.”
He doesn’t say anything for the longest time, just stares down at his glass of wine. “So… you and Ava’s dad are friends now,” he deadpans. He’s not surprised in the least.
My gaze darts around the room — the boys must be in their rooms. “I told you I’ve been a bit obsessed with them… ever since I discovered that photo of Ava. You know how I get.”
“I do.”
“His sister owns a yoga studio not too far from here. I joined. I knew he went there.”
“What did you want, Mischa? What were you hoping for?”
“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “Answers. I wondered if he knew about Ava.”
“Does he?”
“I don’t think so.”
He rubs at his face, the way he always does when he’s stressed. “Fuck.”
“He should know.”
He jerks his head up. “You’re not going to tell him, are you?”
“No,” I promise. “It’s not my place. But I really think he should know. We need to make everything right, Brian.”
“I know,” he says. “But Renee doesn’t want me to be part of their lives.”
“Well, Renee doesn’t get to choose,” I point out. “Ava does.”
“I could never mess up her life like that.”
“Her life is already messed up,” I tell him. “More than you know.”
“What do you mean?”
“She knows that Joel is not her biological father. She read it in her mother’s diary. She’s completely torn up about it… angry, confused, scared.”
“Oh shit.”
“Probably the reason she’s been cutting,” I point out. “The girl needs help. She needs to know who her dad is.”
“She’s been cutting?” he asks, his eyes dark.
I nod. “She needs to know the truth.”
