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Avery followed Greta down the hall. As they passed Tom’s office, he grabbed a notebook and joined them, and the small group settled in the conference room. They didn’t say much at first.
Tom nodded his head in thanks when she handed over his smoothie. The light bounced off his bald, tattooed head. He seemed the type to be seen riding a motorcycle down the highway, but his rough exterior was just a shell protecting his gooey inside.
“Thank you for meeting with me. I’ve got a bit of news,” Avery started.
“You’re not moving Victoria, are you?” Tom asked, concern weaving through his tone. If Avery didn’t know him, she would assume it was because he didn’t want to lose the steady money her mom brought to the facility every month. “It’s just because we’ve finally gotten her stable,” he added, twirling his wedding ring around. Just as she suspected. He always had her mom’s best interests at heart.
“No, nothing like that. She’s happy and settled here, and I couldn’t ask for a better care team. I wanted to bring up that starting next month, I won’t be able to visit for nearly six months.” Avery tapped the table with her thumbs. Even if she got kicked off the show early, she still couldn’t visit until they were done filming. “I’m going on a show. I know it will be a long shot to win. I mean, there will be twelve other women there vying for the attention of one main person. We’ll be living in a house and I can’t leave. Hence the time away.” She grabbed her smoothie, biting the straw to keep herself from saying anything more.
She hadn’t processed the guilt of leaving her mom, but she tried to justify it with the potential of getting out of debt. Any extra money she had went to her mom’s care. Social programs paid for some things, but there seemed to always be a bill at the end of the month that Avery was getting crushed under.
The time away from her mom was a necessary evil, even knowing how disruptive it would be. Thinking about being unable to visit for months was another thing to add to her overburdened plate. Fortunately, the small team sitting with her had helped her transition her mom four years ago from at home care to the long-term care facility, and Avery trusted them to keep her mom safe while she was away.
At twenty-seven, she was surprised she didn’t have more gray hair. Somedays, like today, she wanted to throw the container on the ground and run. Run away from the responsibility that was nearly killing her. Run away from the pressures of life. Just run.
Greta and Tom exchanged glances. “I’ll write up a new care plan, and leading up to the extended leave, we’ll work with Victoria to get her used to the idea.” Tom’s calm, unassuming voice helped ease some of the guilt. “Let’s set up weekly meetings until you have to leave. We’ll ensure this transition is as smooth as possible.” He wrote a few notes in his book.
“Avery, just remember, you must also take time for yourself. You’re no good to your mom if you continue to burn out. It’s important to keep track of your spoons. Don’t give them all away. You need some for yourself as well.” Greta grabbed her hand and squeezed. Although it was probably to get her thumbs to stop tapping, it still felt comforting.
“That damn spoon metaphor. I always forget what you’re talking about. But it’s something like having enough support to handle things in life. If I give all my spoons away, I won’t have anything for myself.” Avery nodded, trying to picture how many spoons she had left. All she could come up with was a broken slotted ladle. “I don’t know what I’d do without you two.”
Avery slumped in her chair, feeling lighter than she had in a while. Maybe she now had a flimsy plastic spoon to add to the pile. This was going to work. It just had to.
“Hi, Mom, how are you doing?” Avery knocked on her door and stepped inside.
A few days had passed since the team meeting, and she’d visited on every one of them. They were all working hard to set up Victoria for Avery’s leave. There hadn’t been an issue yet, but Avery still held her breath every time she walked into the room.
Their lives had always had an undercurrent of chaos. Living with her mom going on and off her bipolar meds, Avery didn’t always know what would meet her when she walked into a room. Sometimes she wished she’d stayed with her dad in Minnesota, but as a teen, the lure of California had reeled her in. It got better once they found the right combination of meds, but a few years ago, her mom had a stroke and, a month later, was diagnosed with early onset dementia. At nearly sixty, her once vibrant mom became a shell of herself right before Avery’s eyes. The long-term care facility had helped a lot, but it also caused a financial strain.
Avery swiped away a piece of hair that had fallen into her mom’s eyes. Their dynamic, even when she was a kid, was always of her taking care of her mom. Especially when her parents divorced when she was eight. She’d spent most of her time with her mom then, knowing she needed support.
“Avery. They have a piano player coming for lunch. Isn’t that grand?” Victoria held a hand to her chest, tapping to the nonexistent beat.
They’d stopped that program almost a year ago now. Avery’s mood dimmed. Maybe her mom’s good days were slipping a bit.
“Somebody stole my clicky-clack.” Victoria frowned at the empty spot where the remote usually sat.
Glancing around, Avery saw the device on the other bedside table. “It’s over there, Mom.” Avery grabbed it and put it on the side her mom still had control over.
“So it is. Where’s Tally?” Victoria looked behind Avery to the empty space.
Avery smiled. “We broke up six months ago. Remember?” Sometimes gentle questions worked, and other times, not so much.
“So you did. Do you know where my clicky-clack is?”
Around and around they went. It wasn’t the worst visit. Tom assured her Victoria was doing okay, but Avery couldn’t help noticing the worry in his eyes as they discussed her decline. Greta and Tom were still confident they all could handle Avery’s upcoming absence, but that didn’t stop Avery’s gut from churning. At least she had images of Stella to comfort her at night. However, even those were fading into the wisps of her memory.
“I’ve tried everything, y’all. And before you say it, no, I’m not about to give some blow job to an executive.” Stella held her hand up to her two best friends as a shudder wracked through her body. Partly from memories of sleazy executives making a pass at her, and partly because of the shot of whiskey she’d just taken.
“I wouldn’t dare. But babe, it’s legitimately absurd you haven’t been called back for anything. How is that even possible with your adorbs hair, all these unique freckles, and just general know-how on getting someone to tell their life story in under a minute of meeting someone? You’re made to host.” Amy swayed on the kitchen stool. “Bro, get me a refill.” She slid her empty glass over to her brother Ethan, who was standing behind a wall of alcohol that lined the counter.
It was nearing three weeks since Stella had left Avery in the hotel room. Stella knew that because the bruised rings of Avery’s love bites up her thigh were fading. She was tempted to re-mark herself just to hold onto the memories a little longer since she’d had some serious self-loving sessions off the memory of Avery, but that seemed a step past pathetic.
She pressed at the nearly faded bruise on her wrist where Avery’s thumb had imprinted on her skin. Stella pushed her empty tumbler over the counter. Ethan hadn’t had the chance to get comfortable with how fast they were slamming drinks down their gullets.
“You’ll find something, Stella. You’ve put too many hours in not to see something come to fruition,” Ethan said as he topped off the glass.
Stella pouted at the dark liquid that wobbled in front of her. “You’d think something would have happened by now. I’m lucky my family’s still willing to support me.”
