London from My Windows (33 page)

Ava went to hug Diana until she saw her recoil. These were her people? She'd never realized how cold they could be. Not until she had warmer people to compare them to.

“It's smaller than I imagined,” her mother said.

“What are you doing here?” Ava asked Hillary. She seemed to be asking that question a lot and getting very few answers.

“I'm glad you asked. I'm here because I would like to make you an offer. I want to buy this flat.” Hillary flashed her teeth. Ava wanted to pull down her pants right here and moon her, and she'd never mooned anyone ever.

“It's not for sale,” Ava said.

Hillary smiled. Why was she smiling? “Perhaps you should discuss that with your mother.”

“Mom?” Gretchen didn't answer. She was too busy checking out all the photographs on the wall.

“I knew it,” Gretchen said. “We're not in a single one.”

Hillary approached Ava. “All she has to do is have you declared a nut job and then the flat will legally be hers, and she's already agreed to sell it to me.”

“Mother,” Ava said. “Are you here to have me declared a nut job?”

“And go line dancing,” Gretchen said.

“Mother!”

“Calm down, Ava. We can discuss this calmly later.”

Ava turned to Queenie. “Queenie, tell your niece from hell that you're not going to let her get away with any of her diabolical plans regarding this flat.”

“Better her than me,” Vic said. She lit a cigarette.

“No smoking in the flat,” Ava said.

Vic crawled out to the tiny balcony. “Happy now?”

“Not at all,” Ava said.

Deven picked up the binoculars and aimed them at his place.

“Ava, you think I'm funny, don't you?” Jasper said. The buzzer shrieked. Everyone jumped. Ava opened the door. There was no one there.

“It's the intercom,” Queenie said. “The buzzer is the same.” He answered.

“Hey, bitches!” Franco yelled through the intercom. Queenie buzzed him up. A few minutes later, Franco and Georgie entered.

“Ava,” Franco said. “Remember that cute bartender who gave you drugs?”

“Drugs?” Diana said.

“You're doing drugs?” her mother said.

“Sounds like she's unfit,” Hillary said. “Very, very unfit.”

“Do you have any left or did you use them all yourself?” Vic yelled.

“Unfit,” Hillary said.

“You're having another party?” Georgie said. “Without us?”

“It's not a party,” Ava said. “It's my public execution. What about the bartender?”

“Oh. He asked when you were coming back.”

“He did? He asked when I was coming back?”

“Apparently he sold every one of your napkin sketches,” Franco said.

“You're the one who should be selling them,” Georgie said.

“There are a lot of people in this flat,” Ava said. She was dying to go hide under the bed. But her mother was already contemplating having Ava declared unfit. She couldn't give her any more ammunition. Which meant she had to get out of there.

Ava looked at Queenie. Then Jasper. Then Hillary. Diana was making tea. As if she lived here. Ava's mother was picking up the photographs and looking behind them, as if one of her could be lurking there. Franco and Georgie were hanging around the piano, going through sheet music. “I could stay here all day,” Franco said.

“Me too,” Georgie said.

“Great,” Ava said. She picked up her purse. And her keys. Then her sketch pad and pencil. Ava didn't have to wait for an opportunity to escape. Every single one of them was staring deep into his or her own navel. Nobody even looked up when she walked out the door.

CHAPTER 34

For once in her life, the fear of being inside the flat with all those people who were upset with her, or wanted something from her, was more overwhelming than being outside. Ava took a left on the street instead of crossing it, a direction she had never gone before. The shops soon disappeared and tree-lined homes replaced them. She clung tightly to her sketch pad, and looked at nothing, just kept moving. She plunked herself down on a top step shaded by an alcove. She got out her pad, and began sketching the footpath, the weeds poking through the cracks in the sidewalk, the generous front tree, and the back of a lorry as it trundled by.

Soon a boy and his mother strolled down the street and she began to sketch them. They didn't even notice her. It was almost like looking outside her windows. Maybe she didn't have an invisible disability; maybe she was just invisible. She thought of the woman from Buckingham Palace and her dyslexic son. She'd promised that woman she would look into the group, but she'd lied. What good would joining them do? In the past she might have said it would have made her feel less lonely, but she wasn't lonely anymore, was she? Then again, she'd just left everyone in her flat to be on her own. Her heart began to trip; the colored dots appeared. She wasn't cured. But they didn't happen right away. That was progress, wasn't it? She tucked her sketch pad under her arm, kept her eyes fastened on the sidewalk, and began to walk home.

She was almost to her own flat when a black limo pulled up in front of the building. Ava stopped. “There she is,” her mother called out. Ava turned. Jasper, Queenie, Vic, Deven, Franco, Georgie, her mother, Diana, and Hillary were on the stoop.

“Ava,” Jasper called out first. “We were so worried.” He ran up and hugged her.

“We were going to look everywhere,” Franco said.

“In style, apparently,” Ava said. “Why didn't you pick me up in this at the airport?” Ava said. Jasper laughed.

“It's
my
limo, luv,” Franco said. “I have friends in low places.”

Her mother and Diana approached. They were pale. Diana's hand flew to her turtleneck.

“Are you guys okay?” Ava said.

“Ava,” her mother said. “You're out.”

“You make it sound as if I've been in prison,” Ava said. Although she had been. Self-inflicted solitary confinement.

“You're not having a panic attack?” Diana said.

“The colored dots just started,” Ava said. “I'm going back in now.”

“Shouldn't we all go out to dinner?” Diana said. “Now that you're out?”

Shit.
Ava was done. She wanted to go inside. Alone. Jasper came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her.

“You should all go to dinner. In the limo. Ava and I have already made private plans for dinner.” Ava leaned into him, more grateful than she'd ever been in her whole life. He knew her better than her own therapist. Ava and Jasper waved from the stoop as the gang piled into the limo.
British luck to you
, Ava thought.
With my mother and Diana in tow, you're all going to need it.

Jasper ordered curry. Ava poured wine. The sun was starting to set over London. It was only looking out at the lights twinkling, and having finished a delicious meal, clinking wineglasses with a man who was totally into her, that she realized something. Good and bad, today had been the best day of her life. Jasper grabbed her hands and kissed them. “You should have seen the look on everyone's face when they realized you were gone.”

“Oh, God,” Ava said. “Did you look under the bed?”

Jasper flushed, then nodded. “First place I checked,” he said. Ava laughed. She wished she could have seen the looks on their faces.

After dinner Jasper pulled out the list. “You have two weeks left,” he said quietly.

“I know,” she said.

“Do you want to strategize?”

“That depends,” Ava said, grabbing him by the tie and pulling him toward her. “Can we do it horizontal?”

“Right after we give vertical a fair shot,” Jasper replied.

 

Late that evening, Diana and Gretchen returned from dinner and Jasper went home. Ava hated to see him go, but it was a little crowded in the flat with her visitors. Even Queenie packed a bag and headed out. Diana and Gretchen set about exploring the flat while Ava made tea. It was her “go to” now, the thing she did when she was tense. Although with those two in the house, she might have to resort to her old “go to”—the minibar.

“It's small,” her mother said, once again coming into the kitchen.

“It's London,” Ava said. “It's actually quite big, considering it's London.” Was her mother always this negative? Ava couldn't remember.

“I think it's quite lovely,” Diana said, stepping in.

“Thank you. Would either of you like a cup of tea?” Ava watched her mother's face. Gretchen was definitely thrown. Ava had never offered anyone anything to drink in her life. How awful was that? The pair sat at the kitchen table, slowly, almost reluctantly, as if they didn't trust what Ava was going to do next.

“I'd love a cup of coffee, thank you,” Diana said.

I didn't offer you a cup of coffee.
Had Diana always been this passive-aggressive? She could get out Queenie's espresso maker, but that was a lot of work. Not to mention she was on shaky ground with him. “Sorry, all I have is tea. But there are coffee shops within walking distance if you fancy.” Her mother finally accepted the tea, but Diana simply frowned and played with her turtleneck. At last she dived into the sugar cookies that Ava placed on the little table.

“We just had a big meal. I don't know if I can do tea,” her mother said.

“Just pretend then. It's like breathing here. You have to at least go through tea-like motions.”

“Interesting,” Diana said.

“Isn't this some view?” Ava said. She would change the subject. Chitchat for once like a normal person. She would not let Diana or her mother get to her. Not anymore.

“It is a nice view,” her mother said. “How much is this flat worth?”

“I think it's poor form to discuss things like that,” Ava said.

“You've changed,” Diana said, jabbing a sugar cookie in Ava's direction. She watched the crumbs fall to the floor.

“I'm glad you noticed,” Ava said. “I
have
changed. There's no need for either of you to be here.”

“I'm your mother,” Gretchen said. “I have a right to visit my daughter, don't I?”

“Of course.” The teakettle shrieked. Ava wished she could shriek along with it. She poured the tea, one for herself, and one for her mother. “Would you like sparkling water?” she said to Diana.

“God, no,” Diana said.

“Tap water?”

“Coffee.”

“I don't have coffee.”

“You used to drink coffee.”

“I used to hide under the bed too.”

Diana squinted and bit into another cookie. “We both know you still do,” she said. “There's not a speck of dust under that bed.”

“Why are you checking underneath my bed?”

“To see what you've been up to,” Diana said. “And I can see you're still doing it.”

“Not as much,” Ava said. “I have made significant improvement.”

“Hillary wants to buy the flat from us,” Gretchen said.

Ava stepped closer to her mother. “Us? There is no us. It's my flat. Or maybe Queenie's. But either way, it's not yours, and it's not Hillary's.”

Gretchen set her teacup down and placed her hands on the table as if bracing herself. “I have taken care of you your entire life.” She looked up at Ava and did not break eye contact.

This was it. Ava might not ever get the chance again. Especially with a therapist in the room to referee. “Taken care of me? Or enabled me?”

“What are you saying? I'm to blame for your condition?”

“My agoraphobia. You can't even say it.”

“It's a ghastly word.”

“It's a ghastly way to feel as well, Mother.”

“I did everything I possibly could,” Gretchen said. “I sent you to psychiatrist after psychiatrist.”

“Some were better than others,” Ava said with a glance at Diana.

“Baby steps,” Diana said. “There's no cure.”

“I thought you were afraid to fly,” Ava said to Diana. Diana glanced at Gretchen. One look and Ava knew the story. Gretchen had promised Diana a chunk of the profits from the sale of her flat. “Look at me, Mom.” Gretchen looked out the window. “Why aren't you happy for me? Can't you see how well I'm doing?”

Finally, Gretchen looked at her. “I do see. And I'm proud of you. But what's the game plan? Live here the rest of your life?”

“Why not?”

“You don't belong here. I'm too far away. You're doing very well at the moment, and I'm thrilled for you; I am. But what's going to happen when things aren't going well?”

“I'm not selling the flat.”

Gretchen set her teacup down. “Our only other option is to go to court and explain to them that you have a disability.”

“I see,” Ava said. “And why is that?”

“So that man doesn't get the flat!” Gretchen said.

“That man is my friend. And I have decided to abide by Beverly's wishes. I only get the flat if I complete the list.”

“That's absurd,” Gretchen said.

“I've done several already.”

“Show me the list. Show me which ones you've done.”

“Drink your tea, ladies,” Diana said. “It is rather soothing.”

“I shouldn't have to show you the list. I told you what I'm going to do. I need you to be on my side this time.”

“I'm trying to help you. Let's go to court and tell them to throw out this ridiculous list.”

“I'm going to do the list.”

“Walking a few blocks down the street is not the same thing as riding the Tube, and touring the Tower of London,” Gretchen said.

Ava put her tea down. She wished it was scalding. She'd drink it. She'd welcome a burning sensation along her throat. “How long have you been talking to Hillary?”

Gretchen slammed down her teacup. “She called me. That's a lot more than I can say about my own daughter lately. Do you have any idea how worried I've been?”

“I've called you numerous times. You don't always answer.”

“Are you referring to the call where you said, ‘I know,' and hung up?”

“Oh, we talked after that. Selective memory, as usual. Shall I remind you what we were fighting about?” Before Gretchen could respond, Ava exited the kitchen and went to the bookshelf in the living room. She pulled out the picture of her father's headstone and handed it to her mother. Gretchen sipped her tea and barely glanced at it. “Queenie said she stayed on for days. Even missed a matinée performance trying to see me.”

“What kind of a name is Queenie?” Diana said.

“It's a nickname,” Ava said. “He's a drag queen.”

“Fascinating,” Diana said. “And he doesn't drink coffee?”

“You're in London,” Ava said. “Drink tea.”

“You've run out of your Xanax, haven't you?”

“That depends,” Ava said. “Do you have any on you?” Gretchen reached underneath her seat where her purse was stashed. She reached into it and removed a stack of papers. “I think you should at least look at Hillary's offer. It's more money than either of us have ever made in our lives.” Ava grabbed the papers and took them straight to the stove. She turned on the gas, touched the edges of the papers to the flame, and held them over the sink as they burned.

“Ava,” her mother said. “Stop that.”

“Interesting,” Diana said.

“I am never selling my flat to that woman,” Ava said. “Did you know that Jasper used to date Hillary? She dumped him. Then I came along, and guess what? He fell for me. Me. Now she's jealous and it's the only reason why she wants me to lose this flat. What she really wants is for me to be out of Jasper's life for good.”

Gretchen went to the living room window and looked out. “Is that where the terrorist lives?”

“I'm going to kill her,” Ava said.

“Now
those
people drink coffee, I bet,” Diana said, joining Gretchen at the window.

“Deven is not a terrorist.” Vic never did answer Ava's question about the lucky charm. That wench had it. Ava just knew it.

“This is a terrible city,” Gretchen said. “You don't belong here.”