In the morning Ava woke, her mind a blank until she underwent the daily torture of remembering. Grief had its own atmosphere that cascaded around Ava each morning. She recited to herself the litany of facts that had become her habit in the past weeks. Her place and circumstance, a retracing of steps. I am in the costume room at my grandmother’s house in New Orleans. My mother is dead. I came by train. She recalled the backseat of the cab, the ride to Chicago with Kaitlyn, the funeral, the hospital. She’d been at a friend’s birthday party when Kaitlyn called to say her mom was sick. She was surrounded by eight other girls, eating pizza and watching Twilight.
She heard sounds, water running, the scrape of a chair, and went toward them, her heart pounding audibly. She experienced a dread that she was used to, ever since the hospital. A feeling like wherever she was, it wasn’t where she was supposed to be.
The sounds came from the kitchen. Lane sat at the table, drinking coffee and reading the paper. She looked up, smiling, but when she saw Ava her face froze.
“I thought you were Oliver,” Lane said.
“Nope, it’s me,” Ava said. “Good morning.”
“Well. Want coffee?”
“Yes, please,” Ava said. Louise had never let her drink coffee, but sometimes Ava would sneak it. She and her friends used to walk to the Java House and buy lattes in secret. Lane poured a glug of cold brew in a glass over ice, added milk, and handed it to her.
“Are you hungry? There’s probably something in there. Help yourself.”
“Thanks,” Ava said.
The pecan bars were on the counter from the night before. She put one on a plate and carried it to the table. She waited to see if her grandmother would reprimand her for having cookies for breakfast, but Lane didn’t seem to notice. Oliver appeared in the doorway with a paper coffee cup.
“There you are,” Lane said. “Everyone’s crawling out of the woodwork.”
“Good morning,” Ava said.
Oliver grunted and poured his coffee into a mug. He leaned against the counter and took a long sip.
“Oliver’s always like this in the morning,” Lane said. “You have to let him warm up.”
Oliver nodded to the girl. “I might have had too many mojitos last night. Possibly.”
“Big night?” Lane said.
“John took me to this tiki bar in Central City. Super sketch. We couldn’t sit outside because we heard gunshots. Nice drinks, though. Muddled cucumber and whatnot. Fresh herbs in everything.”
Ava struggled to make sense of this speech. After a moment she said, “Who is John?”
“My boyfriend,” Oliver said. “You got a problem with that?”
“No, of course not,” Ava said.
“Good,” he said. “Miss Nosy.”
He set his coffee cup down and pulled a small wooden pipe and lighter from his pocket. He lit it, inhaled, and handed it to Lane, who did the same. Ava knew what it was, but she was astonished by how casual the adults were, smoking in front of her.
“Is marijuana legal here?” Ava said.
“Not technically,” Oliver said.
“You’re just like Louise, aren’t you?” Lane said, inspecting the girl. She didn’t sound pleased about it, Ava thought. The sugar from the cookie coated her teeth.
“So,” Oliver said. He took another hit off the wooden pipe and spoke through his held breath. “I’m sorry about your mama. That’s a tough one.”
“Thank you,” Ava said. That’s how she had been responding when people said things like this.
“How long are you staying?” Oliver said.
“I don’t know,” Ava said. She glanced at Lane concentrating on the newspaper. “Do you live here?” Ava asked Oliver.
That got a laugh. “No, darlin’. I work here. You think I’d be this side of Canal if I wasn’t getting paid for it?”
Ava had no idea what canal he was talking about. “Can I take a shower?” she said.
“Yeah, use that bathroom off the hall, there’s towels in there.”
“Thanks,” Ava said.
The old lady was still sipping coffee as though Ava weren’t even there. She went to take a shower, glad to be away from the two of them. What kind of people were they? Doing drugs right in front of her.
After the shower she dressed and found Lane and Oliver in the kitchen. They were still smoking, or smoking again, from the wooden pipe, and speaking in low tones when Ava entered. They stopped abruptly and looked at her.
Ava said, “Is it alright if I use your phone? I should tell my mom’s friend I got here okay.”
“What, are you out of minutes or something?” Oliver said.
“I don’t have a phone,” Ava said.
“Huh,” Oliver said. “Where the hell did you come from, now?”
“Iowa City, Iowa.”
Lane stood. “I’ve got to work,” she said. “Oliver, can you—?”
“Yeah, yeah,” he said. “We’ll get out of your hair. Get some shoes on, Iowa. You’re coming with me.”
“Where?” Ava said.
“Errands. Come on.” He was already leading her out of the kitchen.
In Oliver’s car she pushed some trash aside with her foot. Go-cups, a free newspaper, a torn shirt on the floorboard.
“Is everything okay?” she said. “With my grandmother?”
“She works a lot. Try not to bother her, alright? She needs quiet.”
Ava nodded, peered out the window at the city. The dusty thick glare, horns honking, people on the street, waiting in the heat for their buses. Brightly painted houses snugged right up to the sidewalks, dead palm fronds piled high in the gutters.
“But she forgot I was coming, didn’t she?” Ava said.
Oliver shrugged. “She’s not great with those kinds of things. But hey—you made it. Here you are.” He smiled at her and turned into the Costco parking lot. “Got to pick up some stuff in here. But first things first. Let’s go get you a phone. Never seen a kid without a phone before, it’s too damn sad.”
“You’re buying me a phone?”
“Well. Lane’s footing the bill, but yeah. Why don’t you have one already? Are you like Amish or something?”
“No. My mom didn’t believe in screens.”
“What the fuck does that mean? Sorry. I got a dirty mouth.”
“I don’t mind,” Ava said. “She read a lot of articles about child development and stuff. She said phones are bad for creativity.”
“Well, you want one, or not?”
“Yeah, I begged her for one.”
“Come on, then.”
Inside the store, he helped Ava pick out a prepaid phone, then left her to choose a case while he went to get paper towels and groceries for Lane. He was happy to do a little something for the girl. She needed to cheer up or she was going to start getting on his nerves.