And the worst part?
I still needed a plan for what to do about it.
CHAPTER 11
AVA - TRYING TO REWRITE THE ENDING
The first glass of wine didn't help.
Neither did the second glass. Or the third.
But we kept pouring anyway.
We sat on the worn old couch in our shared apartment, the kind that sagged in the middle and still had a red wine stain from Remi’s birthday last year. My bare feet were tucked under a blanket; my cardigan tossed somewhere behind me. My hair was piled in a mop of a bun with the scrunchie I had found on the couch. The TV flickered with something meaningless in the background. I couldn’t even tell you what.
Remi didn’t say much. She never did at first. She just handed me the corkscrew, then sat beside me, quiet and steady. She was wearing one of her favourite sundresses, which she said didn't have a season because you could layer it... and then looked at me as if she were saying,obviously. Did I think she was crazy for wearing a dress in December?Yes. Would I tell her that?No.
And she really did have the knack of layering sweaters. Her long frame would handle a flowy skirt and chunky sweater; mine could not.
I took her in for a moment, about who she had evolved into since we left home. Remi was what people would call a lighthouse, and she was terrific at being that for anyone and everyone. But she made me worry sometimes, because who guides the lighthouse home when it gets lost?
I pushed that cheerful thought away and dove right in.
“I feel like I’m drowning,” I said finally. “And not even in a dramatic way. Just in the slow, hopeless way. Like I’m treading water in a system built to let people like Sofia die.”
Remi sipped her wine. “I know.”
“She was doing everything right. She got out. She went to therapy. She believed us when we said she deserved better.”
“You helped her believe that” Remi said softly.
“Then what the hell was the point? She still ended up...” My throat closed. I couldn’t say it. I still couldn't get the words out. “I don’t know how you keep doing this.”
Remi’s gaze flicked toward me, then away. “Because it matters, Ava. Even when it ends like this. Maybe especially then.”
“Yeah, well,” I muttered, “I’m tired of this kind ofmattering. I’m tired of planning safety plans that don’t keep anyone safe. Of watching the bad guys smile at funerals like they didn’t crush someone’s windpipe with their fucking hands.”
Remi didn’t flinch. She never did.
“I know,” she said again. “But we’re not done fighting. We just have to fight smarter.”
I closed my eyes, trying to breathe through the fire climbing up my throat.
“Do you ever think about giving up?” I asked.
She didn’t answer right away.
“Yeah... no... I don't know,” she said finally. “Maybe once, I did. But not today. Not anymore.”
We sat in silence again. The kind that meant something. I reached for the wine, poured another glass, then shoved it into her hand.
“Misery loves company.”
“I’m not miserable,” she said with a slight smirk.
I gave her a look.Thatlook.
“I’m not,” she said. “I’m just... tired. And trying not to lose sight of what we’re building. Like if I slow down or stop, I will lose the big picture.”
