Page 38 of Heartache Duet

He turns to me now, his arms crossed as he leans against the counter. “It’s not something I’d normally mention, but if you like this girl as much as you say you do, it’s probably important you know—”

“Dad, just spit it out already.”

His lips part, but no words form, and he’s looking everywhere but at me.

I push my plate away.

Dad rubs the back of his neck.

The clock tick, tick, ticks, the only sound in the room.

“Look,” he starts, crossing his ankles. “When I told Tony—”

“The guy you ride with?”

Dad nods. “When I told him where we moved to, he mentioned the house next door. Apparently, there was an incident a while back with the mother there. I don’t know if it’s your friend’s mom or—”

“What incident?”

“She’s a war veteran, the mom, and I guess she got injured in Afghanistan. A grenade went off too close, and she lost an arm and part of her face.”

“Jesus Christ,” I whisper, my thoughts racing—every one of them on Ava.

“When she got home, things were pretty bad for her. People around here—they’re not used to seeing someone in that state. Anyway—and I’m only going by what he told me…”

I’m all ears now.

All in.

Dad takes a breath. And then another. Preparing. “Apparently, she went into a store one day, and maybe she overheard a couple of guys talking about her… no one really knows. But she lost it. Completely. She went through the aisles knocking products off the shelf, screaming and yelling and threatening people with whatever weapons she could find. They say she was inebriated because she was unintelligible, slurring her words and whatnot, but Tony thinks it might be a side effect of some form of head trauma from her injuries.”

I press my palms against my forehead, waiting for the pounding to stop.

“The kids around here call her the town drunk or the loony lady…”

I stand, my fists balled, and recall those punk kids messing with their house. Insane Asylum.

Dad adds, “They even call her two-face.”

“Enough.” I’m angry, furious, but beyond that, I’m fucking devastated. I picture Ava smiling, hear her laughing, and I wonder how the hell it’s possible she still manages to do any of that when her life… I don’t even know anything about her.

“There’s more, Connor,” Dad says, but I’m done listening.

“I don’t…” I don’t want to know.

“Look, I just think it’s important for you to know everything before you get involved with someone like her.”

“Someone like her?” I spit. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that if you take things further with her, it can and will get complicated. There’s so much more I haven’t even told—”

“With all due respect, if we decide to take things further, that’s our decision. And if there’s more to the story, I’d rather hear it from Ava.”

EIGHTEEN

ava

Connor: Where the hell do you hide every lunch break?

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