Page 153 of Shelter
“Ava, honey,” Flora whispered. “Can I tell him what you told me?”
For a moment, my sister could only cry, her body racking in great, shuddering heaves. Flora stroked her hair and murmured words I couldn’t make out.
“I can say it if the words are too hard,” Flora told her.
Sniffling, Ava shook her head and drew back. She wiped her face with the heels of her hands, and locked eyes with Flora before turning her agonized gaze to me.
“I saw him push her that night.”
My heart lurched, but then I shook my head. “No, you couldn’t have. You were sound asleep.” I thought about the night that left my mother in a wheelchair for weeks. The police had arrived as she was being loaded into the ambulance, and they had insisted on talking to each of us. I’d had to go to Ava’s room and shake her and shake her before she woke. ”It took forever for me to wake you up.”
Ava jerked her head in short nods. “That’s all I remembered, too. You waking me up and telling me she’d fallen and a policeman wanting to talk to us.” Ava closed her eyes and twisted her fingers together in front of her. “But yesterday in yoga, I remembered. I inverted into plow pose. I watched my bare feet sail over my head, and I saw Mom’s feet in midair.”
She opened her eyes, and I there I read agony, guilt, and shame. “I woke up that night because they were fighting, and I was scared. I opened my door to run down the hall to you. I saw them,” she said, her voice shaking. Her whole body was shaking. “He pushed her off the top step. She was wearing her emerald satin robe, and I saw her feet leave the floor… It looked like she was flying.”
Ava clasped her elbows and hugged her arms against her frame. She looked at me with such dread in her eyes. “At Hazelden, they called it dissociation. They said—”
I closed the distance and caught her in my arms, shaking my head. “It’s not your fault. You don’t need to explain. It’s not your fault.
She sagged against me, and the sobs started again. “But I could have told the police,” she wailed against me. “That very night it could have been over.”
“Shhh.” I clutched her to me as if I could keep these thoughts — the ones that had circled me like sharks for years — from swallowing her whole. “It wouldn’t have changed anything. Mom never would have left him. She wouldn’t have pressed charges. And you were just a kid.”
Ava whimpered against me, protesting. “But if I had been stronger, if I could have told them what I saw—”
“You don’t think I didn’t know the truth?” I pulled back so I could meet her gaze. “I heard them fighting. I heard her scream. I didn’t say anything to the police, and I had every opportunity.”
I’d spent years blaming myself for all the ways I’d failed. Ava had spent years trying to numb the pain. It was time to accept the fact that we had been two children trapped in a world we couldn’t change or escape.
But we were free now.
“If your mind yielded up that memory, it’s because you’re strong enough to handle it now,” I told her, squeezing the top of her arms.
Ava’s face nearly crumbled. She shook her head. “No. I’m not.” Grief and hopelessness etched her features. “I didn’t use, but I drank.”
I nodded. “I know.” At least she was owning it. No denying. No hiding.
Her look didn’t ease. “I blew my sobriety.”
I nodded again. “You did.” I gave her a questioning stare. “But you look sober right now.”
She gave a watery sigh. “I’m sober. I drank, but I didn’t get drunk.”
At this, I raised a brow, wondering about that flight of tequila she’d ordered at Marley’s.
“It’s true. I know it even if you don’t. I went to Jefferson Street Pub, but they had a band, and it was just too loud and crowded,” she said, shaking her head. “I thought I’d wanted to forget everything for a while, but being there only made me feel more raw.”
“So you left?” I asked carefully.
Ava nodded. “I went across the street to Marley’s, ordered tequila, and I took one shot.” She looked at me with eyes teeming with disappointment. “Nothing about it felt good. I walked out, and I just kept walking.”
I wanted to believe her, but I decided it didn’t matter. Believing her wouldn’t change much. I filled my lungs and took a long exhale. “Like I said, your sobriety is up to you now.”
She nodded quickly, her eyes welling again. “I want to go back to treatment. As soon as possible.”
I have to admit, it wasn’t what I expected her to say, and my expression must have shown it. “Maybe not Hazelden,” she added. “Maybe just somewhere I can work on my issues where I can’t be a harm to myself.”
I had to see this for the progress it was. “We’ll find the right place,” I told her.
