Page 58 of The Unseelie Court

Years of living with someone who had to watch their salt intake because of medication would do that. Ava couldn’t stand salty food now—every time they went to a restaurant, she’d find herself chugging water in desperation just to get the taste out of her mouth. She didn’t know how people did it.

Putting a brownie on the plate for her mom, she slid it over to her. “Want some milk?” She chuckled. “Brownies and milk, right?”

“I’d prefer a beer.” Her mother laughed.

“I mean, if you’re serious.” Ava pushed up from the table.

“Why not.” Her mother leaned back in the wheelchair with a noise that was part exhale, part grunt, but all pain.

Disease.

She was watching someone fade away. Little bit by little bit. Piece by piece. Like a book left on the windowsill, the slow decline wasn’t noticeable day by day. Not really. It wasn’t until the book was picked up and turned over that the damage was noticed—how faded, how washed out, howgoneit really was.

For Ava, it was the photos stuck to the fridge with magnets that were the originals she was comparing to. Pictures of her, her mom.

And her dad who’d abandoned them. She studiously didn’t look at those photos.

Opening the fridge, she grabbed two beers. A non-alcoholic, kinda shitty brand for her mom—sheclaimedshe preferred the watered-down taste, but Ava really didn’t buy it. Ava just suspected that her mother didn’t like the taste of beer but wanted to pretend. The second bottle was a double IPA. Ava liked her alcohol to taste like something.

Cracking them both open with the wall-mounted bottle opener, the caps falling into the little receptacle with atink, tink,she headed back to the table and set the non-alcoholic beerin front of her mom. “Careful now, don’t start dancing on the table.”

Her mom laughed and put her hand atop hers. And for a moment, that pervasive, overwhelming sadness blanketed them both.

This was the last time they’d celebrate Ava’s birthday.

They both knew it.

And they were both desperately trying to pretend that was okay.

When it very much was not.

Leaning down, she kissed the top of her mom’s head. She wore a wig, even around the house—said it just helped her feel more normal, and Ava certainly wasn’t going to argue. Chemotherapy was a bitch.

Walking back to her chair, she sat and picked up her brownie and took a bite. The batter hadn’t been blended as well as maybe it would have been in years past, with little clumps of flour or whatever—but it was the best tasting brownie Ava could remember having.

She burned it into her mind. She wanted to remember this moment for the rest of her life. “These are great, Mom.”

“They’re terrible and you know it.” Her mom laughed again, a sad twinge to her smile as she took a bite. “But it’s just so hard for me to hold the mixer up.”

“I know. It’s okay. You know me, you put anything chocolate in front of my face, it’s gone. Doesn’t matter how crappy it is.” Ava grinned, trying to cheer her mom up. “I still say they’re great, so they’re great.”

Her mom’s sad smile didn’t quite fade. The expression on her face was like she was a ghost already, watching Ava from beyond the grave. “Twenty-two years old. Look at you. What a young woman you’ve become.”

“Eh.” She shrugged. “A loser who sits around and plays video games all day? Hardly.”

“Only because of me.” Her mom took a swig from her beer. “You should have stayed in Boston.”

“And then what? Who was going to take care of you?” Not this argument again. She didn’t want to do this on her damn birthday. “Thatasshole?—”

“He’s still your father, Ava. You can’t talk about him like that. He’ll come back. You’ll see. This was all just too hard on him. We have to respect that.”

No. No, she didn’t have to respect that. But she also didn’t want to bicker with her mother. “Whatever.” She ate another bite out of her brownie. “I’ll go back and finish my degree someday.”

“Sooner rather than later.” Her mother’s words hung in the air like a winter draft.

“Mom.”

“Don’t kid yourself, Ava. It is what it is. And we’ve done our best. What’s the point of living if you’re just waiting to die?”

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