Page 163 of How You See Me
Setting down my coffee and muffin, I cross the room and wrap her in a hug, careful of the wires and lines. “I told you I’d be right back, and I found someone who wanted to say hi.”
Her gaze flies to Josie behind me, joy making her bounce in the bed.
“Hi, Ava,” Josie says, stepping forward. “It’s so good to finally meet you in person. I brought you something.”
A hush falls over the room. Shock frozen on everyone’s faces to see me with someone.
Kayla lifts from the bed, the first to break the trance, as Ava unwraps the painting. She tosses the tissue paper aside and holds the canvas up. “Hot air balloons.It’s perfect.”
“I painted it on the flight here,” Josie says, lowering to sit beside Ava. “I was really scared, but I kept thinking about how brave you are. I wanted to be like you.”
Ava’s lip quivers. “Thank you. I’m so glad you’re here. You make Haysie happy.”
“And he makes me happier than I knew was possible.” Josie reaches for me.
“I really missed you,” Ava tells me, blinking back tears.
Bending, I press my forehead to hers then kiss her there. “I missed you more.”
“You’re so pretty,” she says to Josie.
“Thank you. So are you.”
“How long can you stay? He’s less grumpy now that you’re here.”
“Hey,” I protest to get a rise out of her.
The rest of the room chuckles, lightening the mood—but the moment fractures slightly when my father shifts to sit beside Victoria.
“Just tonight. My flight leaves really early tomorrow.”
Like an alarm reminding us of our limited time, Josie’s phone rings, and she quickly digs it out of her purse. Grant’s name and photo lights the screen, but she cancels the call.
“Sorry about that.” She cringes and puts the phone away. “I may have left in secret.”
“You didn’t tell Grant where you were going?” I ask.
“It’s a long story. I couldn’t risk him talking me out of it.”
Mom looks between us, worry rippling through her wringing hands, but she recovers quickly and welcomes Josie with open arms. “I’m so glad he didn’t. Can I hug you?”
Josie’s giggle surges through the room, dulling the awkward pulse bouncing between me and my family.
“We brought art stuff.” Ava tugs at Josie’s shirt. “Will you paint with me?”
“I’d love to.”
???
All the excitement wears out Ava, and she falls asleep while we wash brushes hours later. I even got in on the painting—if you can call a giraffe that could have passed for a lopsided tree “art.”
She laughed at my lack of artistic talent so hard she snorted, which made her cough, then made her laugh again once the fit passed. Her breathing is lighter now, shallow but steady. The monitors beep in rhythm with the rise and fall of her chest. She’s found peace. And for the first time in days, so have I.
Outside, dusk slants through the windows, the sun’s last blush coloring the sky orange and violet. It lightens everything intangible in the room, lessening our burdens.
Mom drops the last takeout container from dinner in the trash on her way to us at the sink. She holds up a set of car keys.
“Why don’t you two get out of here and enjoy each other? Your dad and I will sit with her tonight.”
