I doze off with her hands in my hair and wake up in the middle of the night, tucked into bed. Dad must have brought me up. A pang goes through me as I remember what it was like when I was little and I'd fall asleep on the couch and wake up in bed. I believed it was a fairy until once I woke up and Dad was carrying me. It was kind of like finding out the Easter bunny wasn't real.
Something digs at me, something left undone, but I know what it is. I get up and slide some jeans and a sweatshirt on. I've taken to leaving my keys in the pocket, so I always have them. I hate to think of how my behavior mimics that of an addict, so I don't.
He's waiting for me by the stone angels. I walk loudly, so he knows it's me. Startling him seems like a bad idea for me. I don't trust some of his instincts.
Seventeen
“What's it like to die?” I say as it sit down beside one of the angels. I drape my keys in her hand.
“I don't remember.” His voice is hollow.
“Nothing? No tunnel of light or anything?” It's like I have to make everything into a joke.
“I had hypothermia. All I felt was cold.” I laugh, surprised again. We stare at the stars for a few minutes. I put a blanket in the back of my car last time, and I spread it out at the angel's feet. He's still standing, which isn't unusual.
“I don't think I'll be able to come and meet with you anymore,” he says, and my head snaps toward him. He isn't looking at me.
“Why?”
“There are things I need to do. Things that you can't be a part of.” He stands as if he's going to leave. What the hell? I reach out like I'm going to yank him down on the blanket, but that would never happen. He's way too strong.
“Noctalis things?” It hurts my neck looking up at him.
“Yes.” Of course.
“When do you think you will be done with those things?” I sound like an idiot.
“I don't know.” Great answer.
“Oh.” I feel stupid. It reminds me how much older he is than I am, and I don't like that.
“Goodbye, Ava.” He leaves as smoothly as a ribbon sliding through my fingers. I don't know what to say, and he's gone before I can form the words. Just like that. I want to yell at him to come back. I want to run to him and hold onto him. Something smashes and I realize that he means more to me than I ever thought. A lot more.
I try to be quiet as I close the front door, but as soon as it clicks, a lamp flicks on in the living room, making me jump.
“I'm not sure how I feel about you going out in the middle of the night, Ava-Claire.” My mother is on the recliner, legs crossed, her slippered foot tapping a cup of tea and a seed catalog on the table. She's been waiting for me.
“I'm sorry.” We're both whispering, even though Dad's snores are audible.
“What were you doing?”
“Taking a walk.” It's the best answer I can come up with.
“I'm not sure how I feel about that.”
“I'm sorry,” I say quickly. I'm still waiting for the yelling and the grounding, but she smiles instead.
“You know what I was thinking about?”
“What?” I'm still wary.
“Angels. Heaven. The garden of Eden.” I give her a look. I hope this isn't a prelude to punishment.
“Things from The Bible?”
“Other things too. Fairies and elves and unicorns.” Her voice is dreamy. I'm caught off guard. My mom isn't a dreamy person. She never read me princess stories. I'd gotten them from the library and taught myself to read them. With her I got Dr. Seuss and any book that had a garden in it. Lots of non-fiction about biology and animals and flowers. Practical stuff.
“God, what has this done to me?” She brushes her hands over her eyes and rolls them at me, as if she's embarrassed. “Here I am, talking about unicorns. I think I'd like to live in a world where unicorns existed. I never understood why you always loved those books when you were little. I was always trying to get you to read my field guides, but you just went for anything fantastical or magical. It drove me insane.” She smiles and puts her hand over her face. I had no idea. I also have no idea why she isn't yelling at me for going out in the middle of the night, but I'm not going to argue.
“I didn't know.”
“Of course you didn't. I never told you. I would never tell you what to read and I would never not let you read a book. I was just worried we wouldn't have anything in common. You're afraid of things like that when you're a parent. You'll learn about that someday.”
Her talking like this makes me uneasy. It was like she tried to pack a bit of wisdom, something she wanted me not to forget, in everything she said. I should be writing these things down.
“I think I'm going to bed,” I say. I'm not tired, but I want to go be alone to think. Or not think. It doesn't look as if she's going to ground me, so I'd just as soon forget about it.
“Goodnight, ma fleur.”
“Aren't you going to bed?”
“Soon.” She stares at a photograph of a bouquet of tulips in a rusty jug on the wall next to the window. I'd gotten it for her several birthdays ago. I can't remember which one. I go back upstairs, leaving her alone in the dark.
***
Ivan found me in the woods a few miles from Ava's home after they'd left for their camping trip. I was running in the woods, and then he was there. I stopped and we regarded one another. I waited for him to speak.
Ivan always wanted something. He still blamed me for something that happened nearly ninety years ago. That was what happened when you live forever. You held grudges.
He told me that I smelled strongly of someone. He didn't ask me why and I didn't explain. With Ivan, less was more. He didn't need to know about Ava. I wouldn't tell him unless I had to. I hoped it never got to that point. If there was one thing Ivan wanted, it was revenge, and he would do anything to exact it. And I owed him.
I changed the subject and watched his eyes glint as we talked about the best hunting places.
I pictured her face, those green eyes wide with terror as Ivan squeezed the life out of her. No, I wouldn't let him do it. I knew I would have to stay away from her while he was around. Perhaps forever.
I told her I had to go away, but didn't give her a reason. She wanted one, but I didn't give in.
Ivan and I ran up near the Canadian border where the trees were so thick you had to change course to not smash into them. We passed logging trucks and abandoned snowmobile camps. There was still snow in some places. I enjoyed the squish of it under my feet as we ran. I'd missed snow.
Ivan fed, but I didn't. He didn't bother asking if I want to share. We spend the next few days going along the border with the United States.