I press the folds of my skirt down — I’m dressed up for the occasion.
“So what did you want to talk to me about, Mischa?” she asks, clearly very curious.
“It’s about Ava.”
She nods quietly, as if she expected this conversation — it was just a matter of time.
“I know about Ava. I know she’s Brian’s.”
She nods again — no words.
“I’m surprisingly okay with it,” I tell her. “I wasn’t at first, but I’ve come to terms with it these past few weeks. It was a long time ago. It was a one-night stand.” I don’t say that Brian never loved her because that just seems cruel, and I certainly don’t want to antagonize her.
“Yes, and I’ve never asked anything of Brian.”
“I know.”
She brushes a hand through her long locks. “Did you just come here to tell me you knew?”
“No… there’s something else.” I don’t quite know how to broach the subject — it’s very delicate.
Her words are cold and measured when she asks, “What else is there to discuss?”
“I have reasons to believe that Ava might know too.”
Her gaze fixes mine for a beat, so full of emotion. I’ve caught her off guard. “What makes you believe that?”
“She told me to tell you that she knows all about your secrets,” I say. “And she also said that it would be nice if you told her the truth, if she knew where the hell she came from, or who she was or something along those lines.”
She sits up straighter, suddenly larger than life. “When were you even talking with her?!” she scoffs. “You shouldn’t be anywhere near my daughter.”
I shrink in the light of her accusations. “Just today.”
“Seriously, what are you doing talking to my daughter?!” she snaps. “Stop stalking my family. You have no fucking business being anywhere near Joel or Ava. Why don’t you focus on your own family and leave mine alone.”
“I’m sorry,” I say softly. “I was just trying to help.”
“I know all about your helping,” she goes on. “I know about how you told Joel about Ava’s cutting because you were stalking her on Facebook, you fucking psycho. I made her change her privacy settings.”
I’m livid now. She’s woken the tiger, or poked the bear, as they say. I have a short temper and it’s rarely seen but when it is, oh boy, it’s powerful. It acts fast, doesn’t give me the chance to take a deep breath, to think logically, to be wise with my words. It releases my emotions for the world to see, raw, unfiltered and naked. “Well, it’s good that I’m a fucking psycho and was stalking your daughter because it’s not like you give a shit, you selfish narcissistic bitch. You were too busy screwing Mr. Silver Fox upstairs to notice that your own daughter was hurting and cutting.”
She springs up like a jack-in-the-box, the scary creepy kind. “Get the fuck out!!”
My heart is pounding, in full flight mode. I have a sudden vision of my dead bloody body, rolled up in the oriental carpet under my feet, carried out of the store by Renee and Grant, and tucked into a large black SUV. I don’t waste a second getting out of there. She nips at my heels as I scurry up the stairs as fast as I can before she kills me.
Just as I’m about to step out the door, I turn to look at her and Grant one last time.
“I never want to see you here again,” she calls out. “And if you go anywhere near my husband and my family, I’ll call the cops and get a restraining order, you fucking psycho.”
“Suit yourself, bitch,” I say just before stepping out.
I finally breathe when I’m outside.
Well, that didn’t go quite as planned.
It might have not have gone as planned but I achieved what I wanted. Our little talk, as unpleasant as it was, will probably spark a conversation between her and her daughter. That family needs to talk, to get everything out in the open, and if it takes a psycho meddler like me to make that happen, so be it.
I just want Ava and Joel to be happy.
