“Isn’t it obvious?” Chris asks. “He didn’t want to lose you. Only, in turn, by being so cautious as to not lose you, he in fact, lost you.”
Makes sense, really. “Okay, but then why get mad at me when I got mad about it? If he knew he was being slick, why not just apologize and try to move forward?”
Chris looks confused, like that’s all the time we have today and he’ll send me a bill later. “Sometimes, when someone knows they’re wrong, defensiveness is an easy out. But are you sure he didn’t try at all? No apologizing? Nothing? Just jumped straight into anger?”
I think back to the night, the sweat and the people around us, the liquor and the love. The hurt. Chris is right. River did try to apologize.
“If you love him,” Chris says, looking me in the eyes so deeply I feel like he can see my soul, “you should tell him. Because if there’s one thing I learned from my love—Jessica—it’s that time is never on our side.”
Sadness looms over him and I pull him in for a hug, I tell him I’m sorry through my tears, and I feel his own on my shoulder.
“It’s never on our side,” he repeats. “So, go after him, Ava.”
Track Thirty-Eight: Something
by The Beatles
AVA
If my life were a rom-com, I would have looked at Chris and without a single word, fled my apartment and ran down Michigan Avenue in the pouring rain straight into River’s arms. He would have randomly been standing there, in the middle of the busy sidewalk, just waiting for me. We would have made out passionately, everyone around us clapping, and then the credits would start to roll.
But this is not a rom-com and I am one stubborn bitch. But I’m also a realistic stubborn bitch, and I need time to process everything that both Jackie and Chris said to me the other night.
“Okay,” Hailee says as she fills a balloon up with helium, “but you are going to call him, right?”
I ignore her, trying to make sure the crew is hanging the Autism Awareness Benefit sign as straight as possible. It’s ginormous and the perfect shade of blue.
“Sorry, Hails.” I take a deep breath. “I think I will, one way or another. I need to talk to him, regardless of what could happen. Whether we end up together, who knows, but I don’t think I could ever be in a healthy relationship if I don’t get closure.”
“Why the hell do you need closure? River is your person. Why are you overcomplicating this?” she asks me.
I’m tired of talking about it—it hurts—and I want tonight to be a good night. I want all the attention on Dillon and the organization that has helped so many people in this city.
“Look, I just want you to be happy, that’s all,” Hailee says. “If it’s by yourself, or with River, or with some random homeless dude, I don’t give a shit. I just want you to be happy.”
I take both of her hands and shake them while saying, “Everything will be okay. What’s meant to be will find its way to me and I am content in not yet knowing what that is.”
She looks at me with an odd expression on her face. “Did you get that from a self-help guided meditation book?”
We laugh and then get back to work on setting up for the benefit.
You’re probably the best big sister anyone could ever ask for,” Dillon says, his smile infectious.
He turns away for a moment to greet one of his friends and I take the time to take him in. He’s got my height beat by a good few inches, but I’ll always be his big sister. I wait as he talks to his friend before turning back to me, his smile still as wide as ever.
“Have I ever told you how proud I am to have that title? To be your big sister?” I ask him.
He squints his eyes and I can almost see him raking his thoughts for an old conversation between the two of us. Finally, Dillon shakes his head and laughs. “Who knows, sis. Doesn’t matter, though. Your words, and all the work you’ve put into this event, mean a lot.”
He’s grown up so much over the last few years. From being completely dependent on our mom and dad, to working hard and striving for his independence, he’s turned into an adult right before my eyes. Sabine runs up behind him and places her palms over his eyes. She giggles and he turns to her, pulling her in for a hug.
The microphone screeches to life with an ear-piercing shrill.
“Good evening, everyone! On behalf of The Leading Way, I would love to invite our event organizer, Ava Keyes, up here to say a few words.” The tall, dark-skinned woman smiles warmly in my direction and I head up to the stage to take my place.
Suddenly, my nerves are on fire beneath my skin. Electric waves of anxiety pulse inside my chest and I suddenly realize that this is the largest crowd I’ve ever spoken in front of. Even talking to aspiring young writers, in crowds of two or three hundred, doesn’t beat this.
Stepping onto the stage, I adjust the microphone and scan my eyes over the massive crowd that fills the large room.
“Hi, everyone. Thank you so much for attending the benefit this evening. We’re so incredibly appreciative for your support. All donations from tickets as well as raffle baskets are going directly to The Leading Way of Chicago.” Taking a quick breath, I glance down before starting in about Dillon and the experience my family has had.
“As some of you may know, my brother, Dillon Keyes, was diagnosed with autism at a young age. Growing up, I watched my parents struggle to gain access to resources that would help Dillon and our family. But it’s vital, as most of you are aware, that children receive early intervention. And because we were told that Dillon was high functioning, it was difficult for our family to get the benefits he deserved.”
I purposely shy away from looking at my family, knowing how emotional they’ll be. I don’t want to make a mess of this by breaking down in the middle of it. “All we kept hearing was how normal Dillon seemed. As Dillon and I grew up, our parents did a wonderful job at educating us of the misconceptions of autism. After we were old enough to fully comprehend the struggle ourselves, our parents told us how Dillon’s teachers would call parent-teacher conferences, frustrated about Dillon acting out in class. They didn’t believe my parents about the diagnosis. There was even a parent in one of my mother’s mom groups that commented on how normal Dillon looked, as if his disability couldn’t possibly be real if she couldn’t see it.”
I throw my hands up and shrug. “Misconceptions. That’s what a lot of this boils down to. My parents battled against many forces but finally got Dillon enrolled in ABA therapy, and our world changed for the better. Let’s fast-forward to enrolling in The Leading Way. Once Dill was able to start taking classes with them, his confidence started to skyrocket. He began to believe in himself and all that he could accomplish. He met other young adults that were going through similar things and he found a sense of community within the very walls of this organization.”
I finally give in and allow my eyes to pan over to my beautiful, perfect family. My dad sits in his wheelchair, which has become quite the staple over the last couple of years, and my mom is holding his hand in hers. Dillon smiles up at me with tears in his eyes.