Page 103 of Beautiful Lies
“What does he want?” Marie called out from behind him.
“I’d like to talk to you. Both of you. Is this a good time?”
Lars ran a hand over his hair and let out a sigh as he held the door open wide. “Come on in.”
I walked past him and held out the bouquet to Marie. Powdered sugar or flour dusted the green apron she wore over a sweater and jeans. She planted her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes. “What’s this for? Did Ava send you?”
“Ava doesn’t know I’m here.”
She sniffed and stared at the flowers without making a move to take them out of my hand, but still, I held them out to her, waiting for her to accept them. It was pathetic how much I needed her to acknowledge this small token.
“Someone brings you flowers, you accept them with a thank you,” Lars said gruffly, surprising me.
Marie straightened her spine, took the flowers from my hand then turned and walked into the kitchen without saying a word. I followed her, uninvited, into the warmth of her cheerful yellow kitchen, the scent of butter and sugar from freshly baked cookies scenting the air. I watched her snip off the ends of the flower stems with scissors, her back turned to me as I stood awkwardly in the middle of her kitchen, unsure what to do. Lars pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and gestured for me to sit.
“You want a drink?” he asked then cleared his throat. “Water or—”
“No. I’m good. But thank you,” I said, remembering my manners. That had been part of the problem. I’d never gotten off to a good start with them, constantly on the defensive as a teen. I’d talked back, acted surly, and flew off the handle more than once in my dealings with her family. Not Lars so much, but Marie who knew how to push all my buttons with just a glance or a sharp word.
Marie filled a glass vase with water, arranged the flowers in it then carried them to the kitchen table and set them down in the middle. “The flowers are pretty,” she said grudgingly. “Festive.”
“Glad you like them.” I waited for her to sit at the table across from me, worried that she wouldn’t. That she’d leave the room and refuse to speak to me. Finally, she pulled out a chair and took a seat, her back ramrod straight, arms crossed over her chest.
“If Ava didn’t send you, what are you doing here?” she asked.
“We haven’t really met yet. I thought I should introduce myself. I’m Connor Vincent.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she scoffed. “We know perfectly well who you are.” She pressed her lips together in a flat line, but I ignored the judgment on her face and didn’t let it dissuade me from continuing.
“No. I don’t think you do. We didn’t get off to a good start and that was my fault,” I said, willingly accepting all the blame for my past behavior. I’d been through enough counseling and had attended enough meetings to know that the first step in trying to make amends was to accept responsibility for your actions and acknowledge it. “I’m sorry for all the hurt I caused you in the past. For all the times I was disrespectful. I’m sorry for a lot of things and I just wanted you to know that. That’s why I came over here tonight.”
She clasped her hands on the table and for a few long moments, nobody said a word. My apology hung in the air between us, unacknowledged. But she was still sitting at the table so maybe that was a small victory. “I feel like we lost Ava,” she said, and I heard the hurt in her voice. “She picked you over us. And like I told you before, you never deserved her. You caused her nothing but heartache and misery. Our girl…she was the perfect daughter until you came along and filled her head with all kinds of ideas. None of them good, mind you.”
I took a deep breath and let it out. I’d expected this. I’d prepared for it. But that still didn’t make it easier to hear. I tried to choose my words carefully, not wanting to be on the defensive. “I loved her. I still love her. I’ll always love her. Ava is her own person, she makes her own choices, and in my eyes, she’s always been perfect just as she is. I broke up with her just like you asked me to because I felt like I didn’t deserve her. I went back to drugs and I’m so ashamed of that. I’m ashamed of all the bad things I put her through. All the sleepless nights and the empty promises…all of it. All I can do now is try my best not to fall back into my self-destructive ways. And I work hard every single day to make sure I don’t. I’m not asking you to like me. I’m just asking you to give me a chance to prove myself. Not for me but for Ava’s sake. If I’m going to be a part of her life again, which I hope I will be, I don’t want Ava to feel like she has to choose between me and her family.”
“She hasn’t even called me. I haven’t spoken to my own daughter in almost three weeks.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You should be. You came prancing back into her life and turned it upside down again. That’s what you do. You make it so she can’t even think straight. She loses sight of the important things in her life whenever you’re in her life. Family comes first. And now you come here with your flowers and apologies and you expect us to forgive you? After everything you’ve put her through? You’re asking a lot.” She fixed me with a look that would normally send me right out the door. Pissed off. Feeling like shit. But this time I stayed and once again I dug deep and tried to find the right words.
“I know. But I’m asking anyway. I’m trying to be a better man. I have struggled with right and wrong all my life. When I was a kid, I knew the difference. It was all so clear to me. I wanted to be good. I wanted to change the world. Right the wrongs. Fight the injustice. But somewhere along the way, I lost touch with that boy. I escaped into drugs. I kept secrets. Told lies. I never took responsibility for my own actions. And I was delusional enough to believe that the people around me, the people I loved, should just accept me as I was and love me anyway. Because none of it was my fault. It was Seamus’ fault. It was society’s fault. My mother’s fault.” I stopped and took a breath, my gaze swinging from Lars whose face was neutral to Marie who refused to meet my eye. “And not so long ago, I barged back into Ava’s life and I turned it upside down again. But despite everything I have put her through, Ava still loves me. I don’t know how it’s possible or how I got so lucky to have her in my life, but I can promise you that if she’ll have me, I will do everything in my power to make her happy and to give her the kind of life she deserves.” I’d said too much or maybe not enough. Hell, if I knew. Nobody had said a word to interrupt my little speech which had sounded a lot like something I would say at an NA meeting. But it was honest, and I had meant every word of it so that was the best I could give them. I stood to go, grabbed my leather jacket from the back of the chair and placed the art exhibit invitation on the table.
“What’s this?” Marie asked, eying he invitation but not making a move to pick it up.
“An invitation to an art exhibit. If you want to see Ava the way I see her, stop by. All my paintings…they’re all Ava.”
“Will she be there?” Lars asked.
“I don’t know, but I hope so,” I said honestly. “Sorry to interrupt your evening. Place looks good. Festive.”
“Well, it should,” Marie said. “We’ve been decorating for days.”
Lars stood and escorted me to the door, turning the handle and holding it open for me. This visit had not been a success, and I was no closer to gaining acceptance than I had been before I walked in this door tonight.
“Wait a minute,” Marie called after me. “Let me pack up some of these Christmas cookies. I made enough to feed an army.”
“I’m good. I don’t—”
