Chapter 27 - Avett

Misha had grown accustomed to having Thursdays off, but the old gal was nice enough to cart me and Lily into town on that particular Thursday for my fated introduction to her mother. Lily was uneasy; she kept telling me to slow down and prolong the inevitable. I told her, “Sir agreed I’m perfectly qualified to do the job. Don’t you trust him?”

“I do,” she sighed, wiping her hands on her tights. “I just wish nobody had to meet her at all.”

“Why?” I asked. “Is she as formidable as you?”

“I don’t know,” Lily groaned. “She’s nice enough, I guess. To other people.”

“‘Other people’ meaning, people other than you?”

“Yeah.” She looked out the window. The sun hung low over the hills and its rays warmed our little cockpit like a conservatory. I rolled down my own window an inch. “She’s a narcissist.”

“The two of us will get along just fine, then.”

She released a tiny laugh. “No, I mean she’s like, clinically diagnosed. Like a real one. You at least care about other people, even if you don’t admit it.”

“You flatter me.”

“She’s the opposite. She acts like she cares, but she really only cares about making herself look good.”

“Why do you care, then?” I asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, screw her, right? If she makes you so miserable, why not just cut her off completely?”

Lily looked at her hands. “Because she’s my mom. She’s the only family I’ve got.”

“Lily.”

“What?”

I looked back at the road. All the words that were always adamantly streaming into my consciousness and competing to pour out had suddenly halted, as if hitting a dam. If only Adrian was around, he’d know just what to say. I said, “Nothing.”

“Okay.” The road hummed underneath and the air whooshed through the narrow crack in my window.

Eventually, I remembered the surprise I had for her. “Hey, reach in the backseat and see what you find. You’ll love it.”

“Okay...” She said, cautiously turning around. Her fingers brushed a bit of suede and she retrieved a white cowboy hat, which she held at arm’s length to inspect. “What is this?”

“What’s it look like?”

“A hideous hat.”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s not the best part. Check this out.” I fished around in the back, nearly swerving off the road in the hasty process. Straightening up, I draped a brown fringed jacket over her chest. “That’s the best part.”

She looked between the hat and jacket, conjuring a mental picture. “Ohhh,” she said in recognition. “Eli Cash.”

“Damn straight, darlin’,” I said like a Texan.

“He doesn’t even have that accent,” she griped, throwing my precious Stetson into the backseat.

“My rendition of him does.”

She’d moved on to studying the jacket. “Where’d you even get all this?”

“It’s Sir’s.”

She looked at me, stunned. “It is?”

“No, stupid. I went to the mall while you were in class. Evidently, they have impeccable Western wear in Natick.”

“You went shopping without me?” The look of betrayal on her face was damn near comical.

“Jesus Christ. Don’t act like I kicked a puppy.”

“Well, where am I supposed to get a costume?” She whined. “I don’t have any of Margot’s clothes.”

“Oh, relax,” I said. “Just dress like the scene where she’s in the bath.”

“Hey!” Lily swatted me with my new jacket, fringes flying.

“Easy, now,” I scolded. “Listen, we don’t know if we can even go to the party yet, so why don’tcha unbunch your undies until we do?”

She crossed her arms, sulking. “Not fair,” she mumbled.

“Hey.” I grabbed the hat again. “Put this on. It’ll make you feel better.”

“Nope.”

“Fine, then. I’ll wear it at your mom’s and talk in my accent the whole time.”

She wailed, exasperated. “Avett, I swear to God. If you put that on right now, I will tell Sir that you touched me.” Her venomous eyes met mine. “In my no-no square.”

Goddamn. “Away it goes.” The hat landed in the back once again. I knew when a woman meant business.

She settled in her seat. The hint of a smile crept onto her lips. I had made her feel better after all, simply by ceding the upper hand.

As we approached town, I said, “I’ve been meaning to tell you: that little dominatrix act you pulled on Adrian was killer. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

She giggled. “I didn’t either.”

“Just ... Don’t even think about trying that shit on me.”

Her smile was now wide and wicked. “Why, you scared you’d like it too much?”

“Not a chance, nympho.”

“Oh, we’re doing name calling again?” She scoffed. “Scaredy pants.”

“Loser.”

“Scumbag.”

“Slut.”

“Degenerate.”

“Glory hole.”

“Gimp.”

“Crybaby.”

“Idiot.”

“Dummy.”

She looked away. “ ... Dick.”

“Oh my God, do you wanna fuck already or what?”

She recoiled into her hands, groaning. “Avett! We’re about to see my mom!”

“What, you don’t usually roll up to your mommy’s with a pair of sullied panties?”

“Ughhh.” She threw her arms over her head. Someone had clearly been studying Adrian’s embarrassed dramatics.

“You know what? Try your act on me all you like. I’ll just switch you right off with a little flick of a button that reads, dummy girl. That’ll remind you,”

“Grrr,” she growled.

“Not so fun when other people discover your weaknesses, huh?”

Her flushed face emerged slowly from its shield. “Torture me too much and I’ll stop taking my birth control.”

Ah, it appeared we were at an impasse. “Touché.”

We neared the destination on the GPS. I asked, “Is this your old stomping ground?”

“No,” she answered. “Just my mom’s apartment. She sold the house I grew up in when I went to college. I’ve only been here a couple of times.” She chewed her lip. “I should visit more.”

“From what I’ve heard, you shouldn’t.” She just shrugged. I said, “I better get my ducks in a row. What’s her last name?”

“Same as mine. Carroll.”

I grinned. “You’re a descendent of ol’ Lewis, perhaps? No wonder you like creepy white rabbits so much.”

“Oh, maybe I am!” She perked up. “That’d be awesome.”

“What’s her first name?”

She de-perked. “ ... Don’t laugh.”

“Why would I?”

“It’s Alice.”

I laughed and laughed and laughed. She crossed her arms in a huff. “You’re making that up, kid,” I panted, breathless with delight.

“I truly wish I was.”

I reined in my laughter until only subtle snickers shook me. “That’s okay,” I said. “I have a silly name, too. My last name’s ‘Well-Endowed.’ Hyphenated.”

She couldn’t contain her slight smile. “Is it really?”

“Yup. Middle name, ‘The.’ Avett The Well-Endowed. That’s me.”

“Huh.” Her grin widened. “Is that German?”

We pulled into the parking lot of an unassuming apartment complex. “This it?”

“Yep. That building right there,” she pointed.

I parked. We eyed the looming concrete box with its rectangular windows all in stern rows. I wasn’t one to judge, but Lily’s disdain for the place seemed to seep out of her and sway me towards spite. That, and her nerves. We were both bundles of prickly energy. “I should have brought flowers,” I mused, unbuckling.

“She’d kill them,” Lily muttered, climbing out.

I joined her on the asphalt, locking Misha. “Your sunny outlook is inspiring, doll.”

“Let’s just get this over with,” She sighed.

“Let’s get into character,” I corrected, cooling my jitters with a deep breath of my own. I took her hand. “Remember, we’re a young, happy, totally normal couple. We’re like two scoops of vanilla ice cream on a monogamous cone, that are very much in love.”

“Ha.” She dragged me to door and jabbed a button on the intercom.

“Give me a kiss,” I said, puckering. “It’s called ‘method acting.’”

“I hate you,” she said.

“No, no, silly. That’s not right,” I said. “Someone didn’t memorize their lines. The word you’re looking for begins with L.”

“ ... I loathe you?”

A prison-like buzzer sounded, and she yanked open the door. “No elevator,” she said, so we scaled three flights of sterile stairs.

At the narrow landing she rapped on the white door. Dropping my hand, she clasped her hands behind her back and rocked on her toes, back and forth until the door finally opened. “Hi, Mommy!”

Her mom’s eyes drifted uninterestedly over her and landed on me. She was short, like Lily, and just as razor thin, but her hair was more yellow than blonde and her eyes more frigid blue than forest green. Still, she didn’t look much older than Lily at all; only the faint wrinkles by her eyes gave it away. She was wearing faded scrubs, and her fingernails produced little acrylic taps as she drummed them against the door.

I bent to Lily’s ear. “I think we have the wrong place,” I said. “We’re supposed to be visiting your mom, not your older sister.”

The woman broke into a smirk wholly reminiscent of Lily’s own coy smile. “Very funny.” Her voice, throaty and dry, was jarring coming out of someone so petite, especially since I was used to Lily’s girly gabble.

“Ms. Carroll!” I exclaimed, as if greeting an old friend after far too long. “I’m Avett. Lily’s told me all about you.”

I stuck out my hand and she took it for a limp shake. Her hand was twiggy and cold. “All good things, I hope.”

“Only the best,” I said, beaming.

She finally focused her gaze on her daughter, though not on her face. She scanned Lily’s body instead, and scowled. “Come in,” she said, stepping back to make room. “You’re early. I was just about to change out of my scrubs.”

I followed Lily past her mom into a squat living room that smelled of tobacco and was cluttered with boxes and an old tube TV. “Don’t let us stop you,” I said. “But let me say, you have a killer home.” My hand brushed the boxy television set. “Retro’s my jam.”

“I would have tidied up more if I had the time,” she said. “But my profession is very demanding.” She’d already retreated down the hall. “Make yourself comfortable,” she called, shutting her bedroom door.

We stood uncomfortably in the living room. Out of the corner of my mouth, I asked, “What’s her profession, again?”

“Medical assistant at a pediatrician’s office,” she whispered back.

“Gotcha.”

I drifted around the room looking for something interesting, but her mom’s belongings appeared to exist overwhelmingly in plastic bins and laundry baskets rather than within reach. I knelt to examine a storage bin. It was crammed full of designer purses of various sizes and colors. I asked, “When did she move in, again?”