Page 20 of This Love
He opened the rear door and pushed the dress to one side.
Ava slid onto the seat, immediately pulling her knees to her chest.
Marcus closed the door and sat next to me. “Everything all right?”
“Yeah,” I said, aiming a stream of cooled air to the back of the car.
I glanced at Ava in the rearview mirror from time to time as I drove us home. She stared out the window, sometimes sitting up to peer at something more intently.
I had no idea what it was like for her at these times, waking up in a foreign place, surrounded by strangers. She had no memories to comfort her, no experiences to guide her to what was safe or dangerous.
The doctors had explained over the years how hard this was on her system. To have a full vocabulary, to understand speech and language, but not to know what things truly meant. You could say, “Let’s go to the park,” and maybe she could conceptualize that you were suggesting going to a place, but she couldn’t picture swings or grass. She had no idea what to expect when she got there.
Her singular focus at the moment was the book, thanks to the tattoo she got when she was eighteen. This worried me. In the string of resets she’d had after being forced to change meds a few years ago, we’d tried to refine the book.
The first one she’d assembled when she was eighteen was too frightening, full of warnings about her mother, men in general, and to trust no one. She’d prepared it after living at a women’s shelter.
The next one had mainly photos to avoid the scary parts, but at her next reset, she hadn’t had the patience to stare at the images and figure out who people were.
We determined that she needed something to grab her attention like her tattoo did, and we created a mixed scrapbook of warnings about her mother, plus images from her current life to prove to her who her allies were.
Except it wasn’t current. We hadn’t updated it in years.
Maybe she would watch the videos this time since she’d already seen one. They helped the most if we could get her to sit down with them. Ava always listened to herself intently once she realized who was talking to her.
Marcus turned to me. “We’re almost there. Do you have a plan?”
I knew what he meant. “We’ll try videos.”
“I can hear you,” Ava said. “I want the book.”
We both frowned. Ava was smart. She wanted the handwriting that her tattoo talked about.
My phone buzzed. When we got to a light, I pulled it out.
It was Marcus.
Marcus: Did you fix that scrapbook? She ran from us over it before. We almost lost her.
He’s right.
I glanced over at him. “It needs updating,” I said.
He typed rapidly.
Marcus: Maybe I can distract her while you go through the book and fix it.
I nod. “Okay.”
He could make her some food. I would say I’m going to go fetch it. And I’d make sure the book was in good shape before I gave it to her.
“I’ll get the book,” I told Marcus. “I’ll bring it to the kitchen. Maybe you can get her something to eat.”
The light turned green, so I set the phone down and focused on getting us home.
This had to work.
I needed this time to be easier.
