Page 105 of Shelter
“Anyone who went through what the two of you did would want to run away. Pretending — or denying something like that — well, sometimes that’s just the only way to cope.” My gaze bounced from one Whitehurst to the other. A look of relief seemed to pass over Cole, and Ava’s smile grew.
She gave a slow nod. “Until you’re strong enough to deal with it,” she said softly.
Back when I had known them, I would have said that Cole was, by far, the stronger of the two — strong enough to handle anything. Ava was the one who’d needed protection and rescuing. But now, with the course their lives had taken, I was no longer so sure.
“Until you’re strong enough to deal with it,” I echoed, bringing my gaze back to Ava. “And you look pretty strong these days.”
She tipped back her head and laughed gently. “Trying to be. It’s a lot of work.”
“What do you mean?” I wanted to hear all about her journey — as much as she wanted to share anyway. I didn’t take my eyes from her, but I was keenly aware of each of Cole’s movements behind me in the kitchen. The clink of ice in glasses. The hiss of a soda bottle opening. The settling of a pitcher on the countertop.
“Well, I’m doing the twelve steps. I have a sponsor I like, and I just started seeing a therapist,” Ava said easily.
I remembered Mama telling me how Ava had being open about her recovery. Yeah, she was wide open.
“Wow, that’s great.” I said, and I meant it. She seemed to be pleased with the progress she was making, and I was happy for her.
Cole came around the sofa and placed three drinks in front of us on their low coffee table. He slid one of the teas toward me and the ginger ale to Ava before taking the second glass of tea and sitting near his sister on the long L of the sectional.
His eyes were on me the entire time. I reached for my cold drink as heat climbed my cheeks.
“And there are other things too. Things that are helping,” Ava was saying.
I refocused my attention on her. “Like what? What helps?”
“Like yoga. I’ve been going to classes at The Yoga Garden almost every day. And journaling every night.” Ava let out a self-conscious laugh. “And meditating every morning. Basically, a lot of inner work.”
This made me smile. To Ava’s left, I watched Cole smile, too.
“Oh, and Cole’s teaching me how to swim properly, so there’s that,” she said, looking over her shoulder at him with a laugh. “Though I’m not very good at it.”
I frowned. “But you already know how to swim,” I said, remembering all the afternoons she’d spent in the pool with friends.
Ava arched a brow at me. “Oh, I can swim, just not — according to Cole — efficiently.”
“Hey,” Cole protested with a laugh. “It’s not just according to me. Hasn’t your lap gotten faster?”
Instead of answering him, Ava just rolled her eyes, but she did it wearing a playful smile. “Anyway, there’s a lot you have to think about. How you position your head in the water. Where your arms are when you’re pulling your strokes. Timing your breaths.” She ticked off all of these considerations on her fingers, and I realized I probably wasn’t a very efficient swimmer either because I’d never thought about these things. Not that I went swimming much. Not since I’d lived with the Whitehursts, anyway.
“It’s a lot to concentrate on,” Ava said. “And in that way, it’s like yoga. You focus so much on the position and the execution of each movement that you are immersed in the present. And when you get out of the pool, that sense of presence stays with you.”
“Really?” I asked, intrigued. That was how I felt when I was designing. Everything else fell away, and the world grew quiet.
Ava laughed. “Well, for a few minutes anyway. The shitty thoughts still come back,” she said with a shrug and a wrinkling of her nose. “But at least now I recognize them for what they are, and I know there are other ways to ease them that don’t come in a syringe.”
“Wow.” Her honesty was startling, but I admired it. She’d changed so much since we were kids. I looked at Cole to read his reaction and found him closing his eyes, inhaling slowly. Hints of both pain and worry etched the corners of his eyes. If I hadn’t known it from his letter, there would be no mistaking it now. Ava’s addiction had taken its toll on him and still did.
A heavy ache pressed against my heart. Ava was getting help. By her own account, she had a support system in place to help her deal.
But what about Cole?
Ava might be seeing a therapist and going to meetings, but somehow I knew Cole wouldn’t seek out anything like that. I could never picture him sitting around a group for survivors of abuse. So who did he lean on?
“So, you guys reconnected with Mama,” I said, my gaze shifting between them before landing on Cole. “Have you seen any of your old friends? What about Louis Castor?”
He grinned at me, but his eyes narrowed and a little crease formed between his brows. “You remember Louis?”
I rolled my eyes. “Of course I remember Louis. He was only your best friend,” I said, a little exasperated. “You remembered Alberta.”
