“Ava, sweetie. I need you to come out here.” I heard my dad’s voice in the hallway outside of my room, and while I wanted to talk with him, a small part of me considered burrowing into my bed and hiding. Whatever was going on, it couldn’t be good.
He opened the door. “Ava? Did you hear me?” He walked over to the edge of my bed and put his hand on my back. “I need to talk to you and your brother, okay? Will you come to the living room with me?”
“What’s wrong?” I asked, rolling over to look at him. My voice felt like it was strung an octave higher than usual. I sound like Mama. “Just tell me.”
“I will, baby,” he said, and dropped his gaze to the floor. “But come out so I can tell your brother, too.”
Feeling like someone had poured lead in my body, I slowly climbed out of bed and walked with him into the living room, where Grace was sitting on the couch with Max. She was still in her work clothes—black slacks and a fancy-looking blue blouse—but she had taken her jacket and shoes off and her red hair was messy, like she’d just gotten out of bed, too.
“Grace,” my dad said. “Do you mind if I talk to the kids alone for a few minutes?”
Grace frowned and her eyebrows shot up, but only for a second before she rearranged her face to look like she wasn’t surprised. Then she nodded. “Sure. Okay. I’ll just be in the den.” She stood and walked slowly into the other room, glancing back at my dad with worried lines scribbled across her forehead. I could tell she thought she should stay, but I was happy he made her go into the other room.
Dad sat down with us on the couch, in between Max and me. His skin looked gray.
“What’s going on?” I asked again. “Is Mom okay?” My blood pumped so hard through my veins, I felt dizzy.
He took a deep breath. “No, honey. She’s not.” My dad’s eyes filled with tears and I put my hand on my chest to help me stop breathing so fast. I’d never seen him cry before. His words came at me in slow motion—I fought the urge to push them back and clamp my hands over his mouth.
“She got sick,” my dad said, reaching out to hold one of each of our hands in his. “Really sick. So fast we didn’t even see it coming.”
“But she’s okay,” Max said quickly. “She’s in the hospital and the doctors will fix her and make her better. Right? ’Cause that’s their job.” The hopefulness in my brother’s voice reached in and squeezed my lungs until I thought they’d burst. Don’t say it. Please. Don’t say it. Please, please, please.
“I’m so sorry, Max, but they can’t fix her. They tried, but . . .” His voice trailed off a moment before he swallowed hard and almost whispered the words. “Your mommy died today.”
Max erupted off the couch and yanked away from his father’s touch. “You’re a liar!” he screeched. “My mom’s not dead!” His hands formed fists and the tendons in his neck extended tightly beneath his skin. Dad stood up, still holding my hand; I stared at the carpet, my shoulders shaking. He let go of me and reached for Max, but my brother cringed and leapt backward, as though Dad had tried to hit instead of hold him. Max sped down the hall toward his room, sobbing.
Tears began to stream down my cheeks. My whole body jittered; it felt like an electric current was shooting through it. I couldn’t speak. This isn’t happening. This is all just a horrible dream. I’m still lying in my bed, waiting for my dad to come home. I’m going to wake up, and this all won’t be true.
Dad looked at me, helpless, his eyes still glossed with tears. “Grace?” he called out, and she rushed in from the other room, stopping short when she saw me glare at her, then quickly look away. I didn’t want her anywhere near me. I wanted her to leave.
“Go,” she said to my dad, somehow knowing what had happened. She must have been listening from the den; she must have heard everything. It was a small house; it wouldn’t have been hard to do. “It’s okay.”
Max wailed in his bedroom, a high-pitched, keening cry that pierced through the walls. My dad bent down and touched my face, pushing my hair out of the way. “Ava, baby? I’m so sorry, honey. It’s so, so sad.”
I nodded briskly but didn’t look at him. “Is it okay if I go talk with your brother?” he asked me, and I nodded again. I didn’t know what else to do. “Grace will stay right here, if you need her. I’ll be right down the hall, and then I’ll come back.” He left, and I sat with Grace in silence for a few minutes. She knew Mama was dead when she picked us up. She knew and she didn’t say anything. I sniffled a little, then raised my eyes to hers.
“I don’t need you,” I said. “I have a mom.” My words were ice. Fury swelled inside my chest, trying to claw its way out up through my throat. Grace remained unmoving, with her hands in her lap. All the color drained from her face and she blinked, but her expression didn’t change. She didn’t frown, she didn’t twitch; she just sat still and spoke in a calm, measured tone.
“Of course you do,” she said. “I would never try to take her place. Never. But I can be here for you as a friend, if you want me—”
“Well, I don’t.” I stood up, arms stiff at my sides, fists clenched, tears still streaming down my face. “I hate you! I wish you were dead!”
Grace’s green eyes went wide. “Ava—” she began, but before she could continue, I spun around and ran to my room, slammed the door, and locked it tight behind me.
