Avery
I definitely had a boyfriend.
Sort of.
Maybe.
Every day that I got home from class, there was a surprise waiting at my door. Sometimes it was something as sweet as a single, long stem rose, but other times it was something clever, like the copy of the Kama Sutra with highlighted passages and notes telling me to pencil him into my schedule and to stretch.
My favorite surprise was a burned CD. Inside the case, he drew a picture of a house with two hearts. In marker, the CD simply said, PLAY ME.
I popped it into my laptop and smiled as Harry Styles Sweet Creature played. It immediately became my favorite song. Our song.
I loved the lyrics. Two hearts in one home, arguing and making it hard. Being drawn to a place by another person…
Every day I left campus, my steps quickened at the thought of Noah. My apartment no longer seemed like a place I leased. It felt like a home. It was a strange notion, being that even Blackwater hadn’t felt like more than a shelter after a lifetime of living there. Blackwater would always be a mistake I’d been born into. It would never be my home.
At night, before my appointments, we’d share a quick meal, usually at his place because I didn’t cook. Then, as soon as I wrapped up with my clients, he was there, carrying me to his bed or mine.
There was no balance, no structure. There was no decided bottom or a top. It was whatever it had to be in that moment, whatever one of us needed. And whoever needed it most usually got their way. Strangely, that seemed to work for us.
It had only been a week since the tension broke and we could be ourselves without wanting to freak out on the other, but it was an incredible week, the sort of week that made you lose sight of reality and wonder if you ever had to live in the real world again.
I wanted to stay tucked away in our cozy world forever, where the snow kept us in, and Winston kept others out. But life still found a way to intrude.
My mother was out of money again, and that meant my phone was ringing nonstop. When I finally got back to her, she was impatient for an excuse as to why I’d been avoiding her.
“I’ve been busy, Mom.”
“Do you think I was born under the stupid tree, Avery Dean? You’re shirkin’ your responsibilities and I ain’t had heat since the boiler went last Tuesday.”
“Did you have someone come look at it? Maybe you’re just out of fuel.”
“It ain’t the fuel. I had a man out yesterday. He says the whole thing’s shot and I need a new one.”
“How much does that cost?”
“Two grand.”
“What? Mom, I don’t have that kind of money. I just paid my tuition, and I need to save for student teaching.”
“School before family?”
“It’s my internship. I have a commute now, and I need a ton of supplies, including an iPad—”
“Oh, well, don’t let my need for heat and hot water get in the way of your fancy techy needs.”
“These are requirements. I can’t help what they tell me to get.”
“Avery Dean, you figure out a way to get me that money before my toes fall off and my hair catches a squirrel because it’s so filthy. Or so help me Jesus, I’ll take a bus to Philadelphia and come stay with you until the weather breaks.”
“No, don’t do that.” My mother absolutely could not come here. “I’ll figure out a way to get the money. I just need a few days. I’ll get it.”
“I can’t go another week like this, Avery. I’m lucky the pipes haven’t burst.”
“I’ll figure something out.”
After the conversation with my mother, I was so distracted I could barely focus on my studies. I was supposed to be writing up my first lesson plans and researching the staff at the school so I’d remember everyone’s names, but I was consumed by anxious worry that my mother might show up on my doorstep uninvited.
I wasn’t a terrible person. But my mother had a way of making everything about her and nothing about me. If she came here…
I just couldn’t let that happen. She’d see how I was living and feel entitled to everything I owned. She’d never return to Blackwater and having her close would feel like an albatross around my neck.
She embarrassed me too many times for me to trust her in the vicinity of my clients. Micah wouldn’t know what to make of her. And Noah… I couldn’t bear the thought of him seeing anything or anyone associated with my past in Blackwater.
I needed to get that money, and I needed it in as soon as possible. Hating that I had to dig to the bottom of the barrel for a solution, I called my least favorite client, Don, but he didn’t answer.
“Hey, Don, it’s Avery. I haven’t heard from you in a few weeks. I was wondering if you had plans tomorrow night. Call me.”
When he didn’t call, I left another message. He usually got right back to me. He was the only client that I could wheedle a few grand out of in a matter of hours and not feel guilty for taking advantage of him because he was a gross, old pervert. Exactly why he wasn’t one of my regulars.
By Friday, when Don still hadn’t called back, I started to panic. I wasted so much time banking on the fastest solution and blew my chances to earn money in other ways. The weekend was here, and I had nothing.
“Fuck!” I tossed my phone onto my lesson plans as I got Don’s voicemail again. Why wasn’t he returning my calls?
My mom had left six more messages that day, each one promising that she’d be on a bus to Philly if the money wasn’t on its way by Monday. I called Don again.
“Hello?”
Caught off guard by the female voice, I stilled.
“Hello? Who is this?” the voice repeated.
“Is … Don there?”
There was a strange pause. “How did you know my dad?”
My stomach twisted as too many realizations bombarded me at once. One, I never wanted to picture Don’s children or speak to them. Two, why was this woman speaking in the past tense? I knew why. On our last date, Don could barely cross a room without getting winded.
Oh God… He was dead, and I couldn’t do more than sit there in silence.
“Hello? I know you’re there. I can hear you breathing.”
I hung up the phone.
Should I cry? Was there something wrong with me for not crying? My only regret was the loss of income his death caused. What kind of fucked up person thought like that?
Me. I thought like that. Don was my last resort, the one person I always felt better than even when things were at the worst, and I shamefully posed like a teenage girl as his fat, sausage figures snapped pictures and he panted.
God, I knew he masturbated to those pictures, and I didn’t care. I just wanted his money. Even Micah didn’t know how low I’d go when in a pinch and now I was out of options and probably crossing a line into that of a sociopath because I felt no grief over his actual death.
How could I when I was still panicked my mom would show up? I needed to do something.
Rubbing my head, I reached for my phone and dialed the only other person who might give me that kind of money, but it wasn’t the same as asking for it from Don. Don was gross. With him, I knew I earned every nasty penny. But asking Micah…
Micah already did so much for me. My debt to him was becoming top heavy, and my simple services no longer felt reciprocal to the many luxuries he provided. It was wrong to ask for more than he already offered, and I hated taking advantage of his generosity.