Ava Comes Home (6 page)

Ava got out of the shower and wrapped a towel around her head. She slipped on the hotel bathrobe and walked back to the king size bed. She threw herself on the mattress, face first, and groaned.

Lola shouted from the open door of the adjoining suite. “That doesn't sound too encouraging!”

“Kill me.”

“Sorry, if I do that, I'll be out of a job and you know I'm up to my eyeballs in debt.”

Ava turned over on her back and smirked. “And whose fault is that?” “Yours.”

“Oh?”

“Yippers. You look so damn good I have to spend a fortune to keep up appearances.”

Ava tugged at her hair, looking for split ends. “What a lot of horse–radish. The only reason I look good is Maurice, and he's not here at the moment, so you have no worries on that score.”

“True that.”

“Besides,” she laughed, “when I'm around, no one looks at you anyway.”

A pillow sailed through the door and landed on Ava's head. Lola followed suit. They tousled with the pillow for a moment but Ava won. She put it over her own face. “Do it. End it all.”

Lola tore the pillow away from her. “No. I'm dying to meet your family properly and see where you grew up. It can't be as awful as you say.”

“Oh, yes it can.”

“So, who cares? I'm still dying to see it. Did you live in a big house?”

“No. It's about the size of my bedroom closet.”

“Then it's gigantic.”

“Hush up, Lo. I don't want to go back there.”

Lola stopped clowning around and sat up against the head board. “Why? It's your family. You sound like you're afraid of them.”

Ava stared at the ceiling. “I guess I am.”

“Don't be silly. They love you.”

When she didn't answer, Lola shoved her with her toe. “I'm right.”

“They don't know me well enough to love me.”

“That's because you don't let people in.”

“Not this again.” Ava sat up. “I let you in, didn't I?”

“And you regret it enormously.”

“You took the words right out of my mouth,” Ava smiled. “I've got to get dressed. What should I wear?”

“Something black.”

“She's not dead yet.”

“Then something white, it might cheer her up.”

“I'll look like an angel come to take her to the other side. I don't want her to have a heart attack on top of everything else.”

“Wear what you want,” Lola shrugged.

“I can see now why I pay you the big bucks. You're indispensable.”

Lola got off the bed and sauntered into her room. “Remember that when my Christmas bonus comes around.” She shut the door behind her and left Ava to fend for herself.

Ava tried on a half a dozen outfits and got annoyed that she was dithering about it. Standing in front of the mirror didn't help. “Just put something on and get it over with.” She walked over to the win–dow and looked out on a typical Cape Breton winter day in February. Everything she had wasn't warm enough. She'd have to buy a winter coat or she'd freeze.

In the end she wore a pair of jeans and an oversized sweater, with her hair in a ponytail. She wanted to be as inconspicuous as possible. Trouble was, with her suede Steve Madden platform booties, Burberry trench coat, and Louis Vuitton handbag, she wasn't fooling anyone. Putting on oversized sunglasses didn't help matters.

Lola came out in a pinstriped pantsuit and did a double take. “You're wearing that!?”

Ava looked down at herself. “What's wrong with this?”

“It's pretty casual, don't you think?”

“So?” She grabbed her hotel key. “I don't want a big fuss.”

Lola sniffed as she grabbed her purse and coat. “No worries then, because no one will make a fuss over you in that.”

“Why do I keep you in my life?”

Lola pinched Ava's cheek. “Because you love me.”

Ava yanked the door open and walked through it. “Don't be so sure.”

Following her out and down the hall to the elevator, Lola said, “Listen kid, if it weren't for me you'd be a mess. We can't have you believing your own press, can we? Who else is gonna tell you the truth?”

Ava punched the elevator button and then put her arm through her friend's, her head resting on Lola's shoulder. “I know. Thank God you're here. Thank you for coming with me, I couldn't have done it alone.”

Lola patted her hand. “That's the second time you've said that. Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere.”

When they got off the elevator a crowd of teenaged girls accosted them.

“Oh please, can I have your autograph, Miss Harris?” they all said at once.

Ava put on her fake smile and murmured, “How sweet. So kind.” That was Lola's cue. She put her hands up. “Girls, it's lovely of you to come out tonight, but Miss Harris is here on personal family business. It's a sad occasion, so I'm sure you understand. Thank you.” Then she pulled Ava along through the protesting girls and managed to hustle her into the car.

“Sometimes I get tired of this,” Ava sighed.

“And sometimes you don't, you little diva.”

Ava watched the scenery go by on the twenty-minute car ride to Glace Bay. Most of it was familiar, but there were a lot of changes, enough to make her realize she was away a long time. Ten years, a significant portion of her life—she was only twenty-eight. (Though Trent insisted her official biography read twenty-three.)

New businesses had popped up everywhere along Welton Street, with big box stores built in and around the Mayflower Mall. There were more fast food restaurants than she remembered. She was happy to see The Tasty Treat still going strong. They always did have the best ice cream.

They passed the drive-in theatre, now closed for the winter. The huge ratty old sign board read “_lose_ for th_ sea_ _ _.”

When they drove by the cut-off for the town of New Waterford, more memories crowded in, ones she wanted for forget, so she tried to erase them from her mind by concentrating on the cemetery to her right. Forest Haven looked especially peaceful on this particular day, a vast expanse of undisturbed white snow covering the brass grave markers on the ground. Her grandparents were buried there, but she couldn't remember where exactly.

“Will you stop that?” Lola said.

Ava was aware of her heart beating too fast. “Stop what?”

“Biting your nails. You ruin every manicure you get.”

“Sorry.” Her hands were in her lap for about ten seconds before she started again.

Lola shook her head and looked out the window. “It's so funny here.”

“Funny?”

“All the houses are made of wood or vinyl siding. I don't see any brick anywhere.”

“I never really noticed.”

Lola pointed to a half a house. “And what the heck is that?”

“That's what they call a company house. For the miners. Two units were built side by side. If one side falls into disrepair, sometimes they bulldoze it and leave the other half standing.”

Lola continued to gawk. “But one side of that house has shutters and a porch and the other side doesn't have anything. And to make matters worse, they're not even painted the same colour. I love this place!”

They turned up Water Street, a winding narrow road that followed the harbour's edge. The houses were built facing in every direction because of old laneways that dissected some of the prop–erties.

Ava broke out in a cold sweat as they approached her father's house. She looked at the harbour, expecting it to be changed as well, but everything was exactly the same. Bright colours adorned the fish–ing boats tied up on shore for the winter. Seagulls looked like security guards as they stood on the wharf watching for anything that might resemble food. But it wasn't until she got out of the car and smelled the sea air that she realized she was home.

“Is this it? Why, it's a sweet little house,” Lola cried. “Just like a movie set!”

Ava tried to see it through Lola's eyes but wasn't very successful. It was an ordinary shingled house in need of a fresh coat of white paint. A small porch led to the front door that no one ever used. To make your way in, you had to go around back, by the coal shed and garage. The house had two stories and a pitched roof and it was about as nondescript as it could be except for the large iron anchor that marked the property's edge. The anchor, from her great-grandfather's Cape Islander boat, now did duty as a signpost. The block of wood hanging from it read, The MacKinnons. It had been crooked when she left and it was still crooked.

“It looks like Anne of Green Gables' house!” Lola said.

“Don't be ridiculous.”

“Well, maybe not, but is sure looks homey.”

“I can't believe eleven people lived in this house,” Ava said. “It's so small.”

The words were no sooner out of her mouth than the back door opened and out flowed the family.

“If it's big enough for this lot,” Lola laughed, “it can't be that small.”

They were swarmed and hustled inside, with Aunt Vi letting loose on some of the neighbours who gathered with their video cameras to catch a glimpse of the local girl who made good. She stormed across the yard, shooing people away as if they were chickens. “Git, the lot of ya. No use gawkin'.”

Her next-door neighbour, Thelma Steele, got a lip on. “Oh, stop being so bossy, Vi. It's only natural people want to have a peek.”

“She's come to visit her dyin' Ma, Thelma. She's not traipsing around for your gratification.”

Thelma got huffy. “No harm done if I just stand here.”

“Oh, go way with ya.” Vi turned around and practically ran back to the house. Thelma yelled to her. “Are you on sweets at Club on Wednesday?”

“Is the Pope Catholic?” Vi yelled back before she disappeared from sight.

Ava and Lola were ushered into the kitchen by way of a small back porch. Ava knew it was like no entranceway Lola had ever seen. There was an ancient washer and dryer on one side, with laundry piled up on top of it, on hangers above it and hanging off brooms and mops— something even hung on the nail holding up a calendar. The area was filled with boots and shoes of all sorts, the cat's dish with dried goop in it, the kitty litter box shoved to one side, raincoats, overalls, baseball bats, the dog's rawhide chew, a box of potatoes and a crate of apples. For some reason, there was even a lemon pie in a cardboard box.

Then it was on to the kitchen, but it was hard to see what it was like with the number of people in it. The one great thing about it was the smell. Fresh baking sat on racks everywhere. Lola was in heaven.

“Look at all these goodies. Did you do all this?” she asked Aunt Vi. “This? Holy Moses, this ain't much. Let me grab you a plate,” she said as she bustled off. Uncle Angus tried to steer Ava towards the rocking chair in the corner but she managed to slip from his grasp.

“Lord, child. You're like a slippery eel.”

“Sorry, Uncle Angus. I'd prefer to take a look around. Not much has changed, I see.” She took off her sunglasses and her eyes swept the kitchen. Her family looked at her. Rose reached up and touched her hair. “This is a fantastic colour. It's like honey. What's the name of it? I should get a box.”

“It's about fifteen different shades,” Ava grinned. “It takes Maurice three hours to work his magic. No box involved.”

Her nieces all gave a collective sigh. “Who's Maurice?” one of them asked.

“My hairdresser and makeup man.”

They sighed again. Before they asked her anything else, she cut them off. “I'm having trouble putting names to some of the younger kids. Who's who?”

Not that she could remember them all, but she did listen carefully as each of her brothers and sisters proudly pointed out their offspring and listed the ones absent. Her eldest brother Johnnie had two sons, almost her age. Lauchie had one daughter, Hugh three boys, Sandy two girls. Gerard never married, but declared he had offspring in ev–ery town on the island. Bev had a boy and a girl, Maryette two girls, and Rose two of each.

Quite a few of them looked like their parents as Ava remembered them when she was growing up, so it wasn't as difficult as she imag–ined keeping everyone straight. Vi insisted that they sit at the kitchen table for a cup of tea and a quick bite before venturing upstairs to see Ava's mother. At first Ava wanted to object, but she thought the better of it. She realized she hadn't eaten all day and maybe that was why she was feeling lightheaded.

Lola raved about the food. “Mrs.—sorry, I don't know your last name—”

“It's MacIntosh dear. But call me Aunt Vi. Everyone else does.”

“Well Aunt Vi, I say we bundle you up and take you back to California. You'd make a killing with these delicious desserts. Wolfgang Puck could use you as a pastry chef.”

One of the kids laughed. “Wolfgang Puck is a person? Who'd name their kid Wolfgang?”

“Mr. and Mrs. Puck, obviously,” Lola laughed.

“Do you have a mansion?” one of the girls asked Ava.

“No. It's nice though. It's in Malibu.”

This elicited more squeals. Then one of the boys spoke up. “How come we never go and visit you?”

The room became quiet. Ava had a hard time swallowing her blue–berry cake, so she took a gulp of strong tea. “I guess that's because I'm not home too often.”

“Why?”

“I travel a lot. Movies are made all over the world now.”

Rose's daughter Vicky spoke up. “I saw your picture in People maga–zine. You were on their 50 Most Beautiful People list. Were you excited?” Ava spoke to her plate. “More embarrassed than anything.”

Aunt Vi, who had her hands in the sink washing dishes, turned around and wiped them on her apron. “Don't be so foolish, child. Look at ya. Why, anyone can see you're a looker.”