Fighting for Salvation (18)
Evanescence rang through the house as Ava and Jen worked in the kitchen. They had decided that a time of baking and eating like pigs was definitely in order, and had set aside an entire weekend devoted to that. They had movie and TV on DVD marathons planned that would let them zone out, laugh, and basically just ignore the world around them for two solid days.
Jen watched her friend out of the corner of her eye as she stirred the brownie mix. Ava had been quieter than usual, her mind seemingly elsewhere. Her wounds were healing nicely – she could use her left arm without wincing, and most of the bruises had faded. But something was obviously still troubling her, and Jen was determined to find out what it was.
"Alright," she finally said. "Spill it."
Ava looked at her in confusion.
"Spill what?"
"Whatever's bothering you."
"I'm fine."
"Liar."
"Nag."
"Brat."
"Bitch."
"Hag."
"Whore."
"Slut."
"Floozy."
"Tart."
"Strumpet."
"Bastard bitch of Barney."
"Illegitimate Teletubby."
"Britney-loving prostitot."
"Tone-deaf mer-slut."
Jen stopped at that one, shock and admiration on her face.
"I'm impressed."
Ava smiled. "It's not mine."
"You're allowed to steal in the name game. Who came up with that?"
"Andrea. We were online. After I called her a bottle-blonde band whore."
"You guys have all the fun without me."
"Not our fault you're never online."
"True," Jen conceded. Her smile faded as she looked at Ava more intently. "Seriously, though. What's the matter?"
Ava sighed. "My dad called."
"What the hell did he want?"
"I told you about what he said to Tony, right?"
"On the day the shit hit the fan? Yeah. You said Tony handled it pretty well."
"He handled it really well. Anyway, apparently Dad wants to talk it out."
"Your phrase or his?"
"His."
Jen stopped stirring the brownie mix and turned to her friend. Giving her a gentle look, she spoke with a firm voice.
"You know he's not going to apologize, right?"
Ava nodded, her gaze focused on the cookie dough she was putting onto the cookie sheet.
"He's only going to make you feel worse," Jen continued. "He's going to tell you exactly why he thinks he's right and point out everywhere in your life where he thinks you could be doing better. It's going to end with you crying, and him telling you that you have no right to cry because he's just being honest with you and trying to help you."
The tears were stinging Ava's eyes even as she lifted her gaze to her friend's. Biting her bottom lip, she nodded.
"I know. But I still have to go."
"Why?"
"Because it could be different this time."
Jen sighed. "I get it, but I wish you wouldn't go. Where are you meeting him?"
"Café Blair. We're having lunch on Monday."
"I'm going to be there, too."
Ava frowned. "Why?"
"So that I can kick his ass when he starts yelling at you."
"You really hate him, don't you?"
Jen took Ava's face in her hands so that she couldn't look away.
"You are a beautiful, smart, kind, wonderful person, and I hate the man who has made you doubt that time and again." She wiped away the tear that slid down her friend's cheek. "Now get baking. I want chocolate chip cookies, dammit."
They both smiled and returned to their baking.
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She had only been sitting there for three minutes, and already Ava wanted to leave. Trying to look comfortable, she glanced around the outdoor café, wondering if anyone else could tell how badly she wanted to get out of there. Her eyes rested briefly on Jen, who was sitting across the patio, her nose in a book. But Ava knew that her friend was watching them like a hawk from behind her sunglasses.
“It’s good to see you,” her father said, pulling her out of her thoughts. “I hardly ever see you anymore.”
Ava looked across the table at her dad. He sat there, in jeans and a t-shirt, a New York Yankees hat stuffed onto his head. His moustache and sideburns were starting to show gray, and she knew that under the cap, he was starting to lose his hair. Red shaded his round cheeks, and Ava found herself wondering if he had had anything to drink before their lunch.
Shaking her head, she tried to focus on what he was saying.
“I’ve been busy,” she answered evasively.
“It’s almost as though you’ve been avoiding me.”
She sighed, suddenly realizing that this whole thing had been a catastrophic idea. He was gunning for a fight, and he wouldn’t let it drop until he got it – or until he broke her and she walked away.
“That’s because I have been,” she finally declared.
“Excuse me?”
“Would you rather I lied to you?” Ava asked, staring at her food and picking at it with her fork.
“I’d like to know why you wouldn’t want to see me.”
“It might be because you always find a way to belittle me every single time we speak.”
“I’m just trying to help.”
“By making me feel like shit?”
“Don’t you use that language with me, young lady,” he snapped, slamming his fist down on the table. The glassware trembled.
“I’m old enough to swear now, Dad.”
“Not when you’re talking to me.”
“Why did you call me?” she asked, changing tack. “Why did you want to meet with me?”
“I want to know who that man was.”
“Who?”
“The one I talked to on the phone. The spic.”
Ava pointed at her father with her fork.
“DON’T use those words around me. ESPECIALLY when you are talking about one of my friends.”
“Are you sleeping with him?”
“Excuse me?” she exclaimed, her voice rising. People were starting to look at them.
“Let me put it in language you’ll understand. How long have you been fucking him?”
“That’s it!” Ava yelled, standing up and throwing her utensil onto her plate loudly. “I could take it when you were just badmouthing me. But I will not sit here quietly while you insult people I care about!”
Her dad stood, leaning over the table. “How you can you betray me like this?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“You know how I feel about people like that.”
“Like what?”
“Spics. Niggers. Are you getting back at me by letting a dirty rat like that touch you?”
Her hand lashed out before she could stop it. The slap was loud and sharp, and his face turned a deep shade of purple as his anger boiled over. His right arm pulled back slightly and she saw his hand ball into a fist. She steeled herself for the blow she knew was coming.
And then Jen was there, stepping between them. With a hard shove, she pushed against Ava’s father and sent him back a few steps.
“Don’t you even THINK of laying a hand on her!” she bellowed, not caring that everyone was staring at them. “I have sat back and kept quiet long enough. This is OVER!”
“Oh?” he sneered at her. “And what are you going to do about it?”
Jen crossed her arms and smiled at him tauntingly. “Go ahead. Hit her. I’ll have the cops here so fast –“
“You think I’m afraid of a simple assault charge?”
“Try assaulting a federal agent. Because that’s what your daughter is. Forget the police. I’ll call CTU, and you’ll have a squad of agents on your ass, cuffing you and dragging you out of here in front of all these people. How do you think mommy and daddy will feel about that? Will they come to your rescue like they always do?”
“You little bitch –“
“Go to hell, Jim,” she spat, turning her back on him.
Without another word, she grabbed Ava’s arm and dragged her away from the café.
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That Thursday, Tony showed up for their weekly hang-out. He brought a bottle of Peachtree schnapps after noticing that Ava had been almost out last time he was there. Not bothering to knock, he walked right into the kitchen, surprised when he saw her pulling a tray of cookies out of the oven. When she saw him, she gave him a small smile.
“Hey.”
“Hey. You’re baking?”
Ava shrugged. “Didn’t really have anything else to do.”
Tony looked pointedly at her as he set down the bottle he was carrying. “Ava, I’ve known you long enough to know that baking by yourself is not a good sign. What’s wrong?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Well I do.”
Ignoring her glare of protest, Tony turned the oven off and took her gently by the elbow, leading her through the dining room and into the living room. They sat down on the couch, Ava staring at her hands clasped in her lap. Tony watched her for a minute and then broke the silence.
“Talk to me,” he said gently.
“I met with my dead this week,” she murmured, not meeting his gaze.
Tony’s eyes widened in surprise. “How did it go?”
“Awful.”
“What happened?”
“He saw I was betraying him.”
Tony frowned. “How?”
Ava fell silent again, her eyes fixed on the floor. She mentally kicked herself for telling him anything – her problems with her father were constant and frustrating. She didn’t want to get used to unloading it on Tony. And she definitely didn’t want to tell him what her father had called him. Tony seemed to read her mind, though, and he put a finger under her chin to gently make her face him.
“I won’t be offended,” he promised. “And I don’t blame you for his opinions.”
She took a deep breath. “He asked me how I could let…someone like you…touch me.”
“Someone like me? You mean Hispanic?”
“Non-white,” Ava corrected.
Tony smiled at her. “Your dad’s an idiot, Ava. Don’t let him drag you down.”
“I know. I shouldn’t have agreed to meet with him in the first place. It goes the same way every time. He tells me how much I’m screwing up my life, I get upset, and then he tells me I’m being immature or irrational for getting upset.”
“Then you won’t go see him again. From what Jen has told me, you’ve given him enough chances. Just step back and wait for him to decide that he’s made a mistake.”
Ava frowned. “Jen talked to you about my dad?”
He nodded. “I asked her about him once while you were in the hospital. I wanted to know if he was that awful all the time.”
She looked down at the floor again. “I hit him.”
“What?”
“We were standing and yelling at each other, and I just couldn’t take it anymore. He called you a horrible name and I just snapped. I slapped him.”
“What did he do?”
“He was about to hit me back.”
She felt Tony’s entire body tense next to her. “Did he?”
“No. Jen got there in time. She stepped between us and shoved him back. Then she warned him that if he hit me, he’d be assaulting a federal agent and CTU would take him in.”
“We’d kick his ass, too,” he told her, chuckling lightly. Reaching his arm around her, he pulled her against his side. “How about we make dinner and then watch a movie? Your pick.”
“Something action-y.”
“That doesn’t exactly narrow it down.”
Ava thought for a moment. “Die Hard.”
Tony laughed. “Die Hard it is then.”
She smiled at him. “Yippie kai-yay, motherfucker.”
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The apartment was dark when Ava let herself in. Kicking the door shut behind her, she moved into the kitchen, setting down the covered platter she was carrying. She turned on the lights and then ventured into the living room.
“Jack?”
He was sitting on the couch, staring into the shadows. His beard was longer, hanging about an inch below his chin. Ava had tried to get him to shave, but he just wouldn’t be bothered with it – shaving was a trivial concern compared to the grief and guilt he was carrying.
She walked across the room, standing in front of him until he finally registered her presence. His blue eyes met hers, but there was nothing behind them.
“What do you want?” he asked quietly.
“Haven’t heard from you in over a week. Thought I’d check up on you.
He nodded, but didn’t answer her unspoken question. She decided to try another route.
“I brought dinner. Spaghetti. Mimi’s recipe.” No response. Ava sighed. “Come on, Jack. You have to eat.”
“I’m not hungry.”
The growl from his stomach betrayed him.
“Liar.”
She grabbed one of his hands and pulled him up from the couch. Without a word, she led him back into the kitchen, pushing him into one of the chairs at the small table. Then she turned to the platter she had brought in, and as she pulled off the plastic wrap, Jack saw steam rush up at her.
“It’s still hot,” he commented.
Ava nodded. “I cooked it and covered it and came right over. It never tastes quite as good if you have to reheat it in the microwave.”
She pulled down two plates from a cabinet and put a generous portion on each. Then she poured them each a glass of milk and set the table, taking a seat across from Jack.
“Eat,” she ordered, digging into her own food.
He acquiesced and they ate in companionable silence for a few minutes. Ava smiled as she watched Jack devour what she had put in front of him – he obviously hadn’t eaten in awhile. Wordlessly, she stood up and refilled their plates and glasses.
“How’s Kim?” he asked suddenly, halfway through his second helpings.
“She’s good,” Ava answered around a mouthful of food. “She has a new boyfriend.”
Jack raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Who is he?”
“His name’s Miguel.”
“Have you met him?”
Ava nodded.
“Please tell me he’s better than the last one.”
She smiled. “Much. I like him. I think he’s good for her.”
Jack nodded slowly. “Good. So…she’s happy?”
“Yeah, Jack,” she said softly. “As happy as she can be right now.”
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Ava nearly poked her eye out with her eye liner pencil when her cell phone rang. Whispering a curse, she answered it.
“Connelly.”
“Do you always answer your phone in such a business-like manner?” Jen asked.
“Well, work always manages to call me in at the most inconvenient times. And since this would be very inconvenient, I was expecting them.”
“Why inconvenient? Do you have plans?”
“Yeah, actually I do.”
“I’m hurt. I thought you didn’t have a social life outside of me.”
“Ha ha,” she said sarcastically. “I’m about to leave for
“On a Saturday night?”
“Yeah. I’m…I’m singing.”
“What? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you get weird when it comes to the religion thing. I didn’t want you to feel obligated to go or anything.”
“Which church?”
“
“I’ll meet you there.”
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Jen smiled as she watched her friend step nervously to the microphone. Despite her beautiful voice, Ava was always nervous when it came to singing in front of others. She had a deep-seated fear that she wasn’t good enough, that people were only placating her when they told her how wonderful she was.
It bothered her that her friend hadn’t told her about her date to sing in church. She knew that she wasn’t always the most open when it came to religion and faith, but she hoped that Ava knew that she would want to be there for her regardless. But they could discuss that later. Jen quieted her thoughts as Ava began to sing.
It's not easy trying to understand
How the world can be so cold, stealing the souls of man
Cloudy skies rain down on all your dreams
You wrestle with the fear and doubt
Sometimes it's hard but you gotta believe
There's a better place, where our Father waits
And every tear He'll wipe away
The darkness will be gone, the weak shall be strong
Hold on to your faith
There will come a day, there will come a day
Wars are raging, lives are scattered
Innocence is lost, and hopes are shattered
The old are forgotten, the children are forsaken
In this world we're living in
Is there anything sacred?
There will come a day, there will come a day
The song will ring out, down those golden streets
The voices of earth with the angels will sing
Every knee will bow, sin will have no trace
In the glory of His amazing grace
Every knee will bow, sin will have no trace
In the glory of His amazing grace
There will come a day, there will come a day
Oooh there will come a day
I know there's coming a day, coming a day
As the last note faded, Jen found that her eyes had closed during the performance. The words sunk into her subconscious, and she found herself suddenly wondering if maybe Ava was on to something.
The young woman was nearly back to her seat next to Jen, when a sudden noise caught her attention. Her eyes snapped to the double doors leading outside just as they crashed open and men in black clothing came pouring in.
The parishioners were in such a state of shock that for a crucial minute they just sat there, slack-jawed. Ava’s eyes roamed around the cathedral, looking for some kind of explanation as to what was going on. Then shots were fired and a woman began screaming.