Page 12 of Truth, Lies, and Second Dates
“Yes, and—shit.”
“Beg pardon?”
She was looking around. “I’ve misplaced my purse. I just had it—IthinkI just had it—” She tried to remember when it was in her hands last. Just after the memorial was finished, she’d set it aside to gulp down more water. “Shit!”
“I’m sure it’s around here somewhere,” Mama Monahan said, giving off clear “not that I care in the slightest” vibes. Not that Ava could blame her. If the shoe/purse were on the other foot, Ava wouldn’t care, either. But then—
“Hey. Ava.” Dennis emerged from wherever he’d been, waving a black clutch at her. “This what you’re looking for?”
“Yeah, thank goodness.” After a quick scan, she was reassured nothing was missing. “You ready?”
“Yep.”
And just like that, they fled the Crisp and Gross Funeral Home for the dark sanctuary of the bar. A bar. Any bar.
Five
“… and then Grandpa Pat literally threw the guy off the porch. Grabbed him and hoisted him andheavedand the guy went flying and kicked up a bunch of dust when he landed.”
“Probably should have taken Pat seriously when he said ‘no comment.’”
“Right? Like trying to set the guy’s rental car on fire wasn’t enough of a hint? Anyway, that was the height of the media mess.”
“Nightmare.”
“Yeah. But it didn’t get any worse, and after that there were fewer reporters, and then one day, we got up and saw they’d all left.”
“Like the swallows on their way to Capistrano.”
Dennis snorted. “Sure. Exactly like that.”
They were imbibing in the Tamarack Tap Room, because Ava could get behind a place with the motto “Beer, Burgers, Bourbon.” Dennis was sucking down a liquid that was so dense and black, it looked like something he had to drink because he lost a bet; Ava was content with rye and ginger.
“Hard to believe it’s been ten years.”
“Agreed,” Ava replied. “Depending on the day I’m having, it either seems like too long a time or not enough time. And I can’t imagine—I mean, this had to have been hard for you.”
“It wasn’t a boatload of chuckles for you, either.”
“Yeah, but you lost a twin.” She shook her head. “Can’t imagine. You know I’m an only.”
“I know that’s why you hung out at our place all the time,” he teased. “You were literally the only person in town who envied Ava for having too many weirdo relatives.”
“I think ‘weirdo’ was unnecessary.”
“Hell, for a time people thought you and Danielle were twins. Remember when you both got the same haircut and matching dark dye jobs?”
“Argh, don’t remind me. It took so long to grow out.” As soon as the words were out, she could have bitten her tongue. Because Danielle’s never had a chance to grow out. And the reminder of how desperately Ava was looking for an identity back then made her cringe. Hell, they’d even dressed alike more than once.
“Aw, c’mon.” Dennis nudged her, doubtless picking up on her mood. “It was cute. We all thought so. Even the nursing home you guys volunteered at—remember?”
“Vaguely,” she lied. She remembered everything: Ava volunteering at Shady Oaks—which provided neither shade nor oaks—and quickly realizing it wasn’t going to be what she thought. She’d been picturing grandparental figures, loving proxies. Instead, the residents were real people, and weren’t there to fulfill Ava’s fantasies of living in a big extended family. The third time she’d had to wipe shit off Mr. Wilkin’s ass, she’d decided enough was enough and told her folks she was quitting.
Which led to the “you took on this responsibility and will see it through” lecture, hilarious given how often her parents shirked their own responsibilities. Oblivious to the irony, her mom and dad had then left for their semiannual trip to Vegas.
After crying (and ranting) on Danielle’s shoulder, her friend suggested they take turns being Volunteer Aide Ava. It was such a silly, sitcomesque idea, so of course Ava was all over it. So while Volunteer Aide Ava was on the schedule three afternoons a week, theactualAva only went once or twice, while Danielle picked up her other shift. The work was still gross and grueling, but knowing they were “gaming the system” made it interesting.
Ava shrugged off the memories, started to ask something, then cut herself off.
