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“All I saw was you being a dick, and if you want to keep going, you can leave.”
“Ava.” I grasp her shoulders, get her to face the kitchen, where her mom’s still going with those pointless flashcards. “She has two piles,” I start.
“I know this,” Ava snaps.
I overlook her attitude and continue, my hands still on her shoulders. “The ones on her right are the ones she gets correct. They’re single-syllable words. Everything else is on the left, and they’re more than one syllable. But she can say those words, Ava. She just can’t connect them to the picture. Like when she was looking at the basketball, she didn’t say it was a basketball. She said it was a ball, and she got frustrated about it. But when I talk to her, when she’s having a conversation, she says the word, and she says it easily and clearly.”
Ava’s shoulders drop as she inhales a sharp breath.
“Those flashcards,” I say, “they’re useless. You just need to talk to her.”
After a long moment of quiet, Ava calls out, “Hey, Mama? Do you remember Trevor’s pet that he kept in his room? His name was Fetch.”
Jo nods.
“Do you remember what animal it was?”
“Turtle,” Jo answers, not skipping a beat.
“Oh, my God, Connor!” Ava turns to me, her arms going around my neck. “How did I not see that earlier?”
I don’t have an answer, so I don’t respond.Instead, I hold her to me, her cheek to my chest.
Their front door opens, and Trevor walks in. Without looking up, he slips off his shoes and demands, “Love me! Feed me! Honor me!” He turns and sees Ava and me, our arms wrapped around each other. “Oh, so we’re doing this again,” he mumbles.
Ava giggles, releasing me. “Connor’s just here to do some homework.”
“Oh yeah,” he responds, walking past us and into the kitchen. “I remember when I called it ‘homework,’ too.” He places his hand on Ava’s mom’s shoulder and kisses her right on her scars. “What’s up, Mama Jo?”
Miss Diaz taps his hand lovingly. “Connor, six-five is here.”
“I see him. You giving him more pointers on his jump shot?”
Jo clicks her tongue. “Weak.”
I can’t help but chuckle.
Trevor goes to the fridge and grabs a beer, then looks at our homework we have spread out over the table. “What are you guys working on now?”
“Serial killer,” Ava responds.
Trevor shakes his head. “I swear to God, one day the FBI is going to come knocking on our door suspicious about your search history, Ava.”
Ava shrugs, taking my hand and leading me back to the table.
Trevor says, “So, I assume I’m not being fed tonight?”
Ava grimaces. “Sorry, I lost track of time.”
“Pizza?” Trevor asks her.
Ava replies, “Sure.”
He points at me. “Pizza?”
“I’m down.”
Then he points to Miss Diaz. “Pizza?”
