Page 85 of My One
“My …” I stammered. “My name’s Avery too.”
“No shit?” And then I watched as his face fell and something occurred to him. He held up a finger. “Hold that thought.” He turned and left the bar, walking toward the street, and leaving me confused as fuck once again.
I looked toward my wife. “What the fuck?”
She shrugged. “That’s one hell of a coincidence.”
I took a long gulp of my beer, so many thoughts going through my mind. What were the odds? Did Edna know and that was why she sent us here? But she had to know that it wasn’t my father because he’d died in a car crash, so why would she tell us to come to a bar that was named after my mother’s favorite flower and where the bartender was named Avery?
When I heard the voice from behind me, I got my answer. “Avery?”
I turned around and saw an angel, her graying-blonde hair blowing in the wind. I blinked. “Mom?”
“Mom?” Nicole whispered as she turned.
My mother smiled and rushed to me, wrapping her arms around my neck. “You came.”
“I … What?”
My mother pulled back, kissed my cheek and then hugged my wife. “And you must be Nicole.”
Nic looked over my mom’s shoulder toward me, her blue eyes the size of silver dollars, and just as speechless as I was. What was happening? Did we die on the way here and this was heaven? My version of the afterlifewouldbe with my wife on a beach but …
What. The. Actual. Fuck?
Mother let go of Nic, a beaming smile spread across her face. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.” She turned to Avery, who was standing in the sand a few feet from us. “This is your father—yourrealfather.”
Avery stepped forward and stuck out his hand. “It’s good to finally meet you, son.”
Still speechless, I took his hand and shook it for a second time in five minutes. I looked at Nicole, and she had her mouth open in shock.
“Mom?” I questioned.
“I know,” Mother responded. “You’re confused. There’s so much to tell you.”
“You can start by telling me what the fuck?” I clipped.
Mom turned to Avery—my dad—myrealdad—and grabbed his hand. “We live across the street. Let’s go over there and talk. I’m making dinner, and there’s enough for all of us.”
Who was this woman? She looked like my mom, sounded like my mom, but wasn’t acting like my mom. My mother was always quiet, letting Doug speak for her and shit.
“Bring your drinks,” Avery suggested, and he and my mom started to walk away.
I looked toward my silent wife, and she shrugged, clearly puzzled, and grabbed her strawberry drink. I grabbed my pint of beer and followedmy parentsas though this was normal. As if we were going to their house for dinner like we did every week. However, eating was the furthest thing from my mind.
We walked across the street and into what seemed like a one-bedroom cottage. It was the exact opposite of the house in Santa Barbara. It was quaint with blues, greens, yellows, pinks, reds, and every imaginable color spread across the living room in the furniture, pictures, and décor. It felt like a home, a home surrounded with love and not that hospital feel the Santa Barbara house had.
“Have a seat.” Mom motioned for Nic and me to sit on the blue couch.
We did, and I drained the rest of my beer. Avery Senior handed me a fresh Corona in a bottle. “Thank you.”
He nodded and took a seat on the loveseat next to us. My mother sat beside him. She took a deep breath. “So, we’re alive.”
I snorted. “Or we’re dead.”
Mom smiled. “You’re not dead.”
“How?” Nic asked.
