Page 77 of You're So Vine

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I’m glad the Dodge’s interior lighting is subpar. I don’t want Ava to see how red my face is getting.

“I don’t blame him,” I say. “He’s the oldest brother and even though he acts the clown, I think he feels a responsibility to the family. To make sure everyone’s okay.”

Ava’s quiet, listening, but in the dark, I can’t tell what she’s thinking. I plow on.

“After the … incident … in the workshop between me and Lee, I was a mess. Never felt so ashamed. I mean, she and Billy were my friends. They’d been nothing but good to me, and I’d abused that. Abused their goodwill and their trust, and all because I couldn’t get my act together. I let myself be ruled by anger and frustration. Only other time I’ve felt that bad about myself was during the…”

No. Don’t want to go there. Not yet.

“Anyway,” I say. “I was so desperate to make amends, I made it worse. Hung around the house and the office, offering to do odd jobs or errands, anything to be useful to Lee and Billy. Billy saw that I was agitated but he was a practical guy, so he took me at my word and gave me work to do. Lee tried to keep things normal, but after a while of me hanging around like a bad smell, she was forced to give me the hard word. She was polite but firm, told me to back off. And Jackson overheard…”

Which is probably why he still gets under my skin. Saw me at my weakest and worst.

“He came down to the workshop later that day and confronted me. Demanded to know what was going on between me and his mom. Course, I told him it was none of his fucking business, and he came at me swinging. And for a moment there, I was ready to pound him into the dirt. But my inner Doc Banner took over from my Incredible Hulk, and I let him hit me. Right in the jaw. Rookie mistake. Probably first time Jackson had hit anyone, and he didn’t know to aim for the soft parts. Split his knuckles and almost broke his hand. Game over.”

I’ll skip the part where I fetched the same first aid kit Lee had used for me.

“I got us both a beer and told him there was nothing going on between me and Lee. He accepted it because he’d run out of fight, but he never fully believed it. That’s why he had a go at me tonight.”

Even if it’s only a few seconds, the time spent waiting for Ava’s response seems to drag on forever.

When she finally speaks, her voice is quiet, subdued. “It’s tough feeling like you always fall short.”

Not exactly sure who she’s referring to here. “Are you talking about Jackson or me?”

I see the flash of a smile. “Allof us, dummy,” she says.

Can’t take offense—she’s correct. When it comes to how humans work, I am dumb as a post.

Because while I can see why her remark might be relevant to me and Jackson, I can’t see how she can group herself in with us. Far as I know, before she got sick, Ava succeeded at everything she put her mind to.

“When have you ever felt you fell short?” I ask her. “You were a college track champ, a star horse rider. You—”

“Were,” says Ava. “That’s the key word. I was. Iused to bethose things. What am I now?”

I know this question. Know it well. For seven years, I had the answer: I was a soldier. I was a good soldier, too, capable, strong. And then I wasn’t. I didn’t see the end coming the way it did. Thought the odds were high I’d be injured physically, but I never considered the real damage would happen to my mind, my spirit. It was like I’d been erased, like chalk on a blackboard, rubbed down to nothing but dust. If it hadn’t been for Billy and Lee, who knows what might have happened to me? At least now I feel like I have a home, and some kind of purpose, even if it is just making barrels and fixing stuff. But it took a long time for me to get there.

I’m starting to understand what Ava means. When you have to rebuild your life from scratch, it can seem an impossible task. And it’s even worse for her, because of the uncertainty around her health. She’s in limbo, which probably feels more like purgatory.

What comfort can I offer her? It’s not like I’m the greatest example of how to get your life back on track.

But maybe that’s not what’s needed here. Maybe all Ava needs now is the comfort of knowing she’s got support…

“Hey, this might be stupid idea,” I say, “but do you want to come with me to the therapy riding class on Sunday? Maybe help out?”

“Do I get to watch you ride?” she asks with a quick smile.

“Hell, no,” I reply. “I walk alongside. And keep well away from the parts that bite and kick.”

“You never did tell me why you volunteer there,” she says. Not accusing, just curious.

Hoo boy. There’s a verygood reason for that. It’s the secret. The biggest one I have. Question is: do I have the courage to go there?

“It’s a long story.” And before she can speak, I add, “But I’ll tell you if you want to hear it.”

Ava’s quiet for a moment. “This is about the war, isn’t it?”

Every part of me constricts, like I’m being crushed by an invisible weight. I’m struggling for breath. My fingers have the steering wheel in a death grip.