Chapter 23
Rituals
Rory’s brother, Nick, drove us all to the airport Sunday morning and Andy drove the luggage. We hugged each other goodbye over and over and then boarded our flight. Julia and Rory weren’t speaking. They had had an awful fight the night before after Rory announced, while looking over our new house with us, that he would not marry, ever. Julia did not take this news kindly and refused to sit near him on the plane. Ari gave me the window and took the middle seat for his own while Julia took the aisle. Rory sat in the seat in front of Ari and August sat in front of me.
I quickly fell into that half-awake, half-asleep state of mind so common to air travel. I had my head on Ari’s shoulder and could see that Julia had her head on his other shoulder. August turned around and stage whispered to Ari, in a pathetic attempt at an American accent, “Atta boy, eh?” I gave him a little rap on the back of his head, not too hard, but enough to get my point across. Then I stood up, made Ari move to the window seat and shoved Julia’s sleeping body to her armrest. Then to boycott Ari further for allowing Julia to use his shoulder, I put my head on Julia’s shoulder. I fell asleep to Ari and Rory shaking with laughter as August rubbed the back of his head.
We arrived at Montréal-Pierre Elliott Trudeau International Airport several hours later and took a couple of rented cars to my childhood home. The caretaker, François, and his wife Marie met us at the front door.
“Bonjour, je suis Ava,” I introduced myself and they both wrapped me up in giant hugs.
“Mais bien sùr, Ava, bienvenue! Nous étions les amis de votre mère. Et ces sont vos amis? Entrez, entrez!” François exclaimed, telling us that he had been a close friend of my mother as he unlocked the door.
We walked into the house and I stepped back in time. The rooms looked exactly as they had when my mother and I lived in them. There were still photographs of the two of us hanging on the walls. I was taken by how young I had been and how different I had looked.
My mother’s gardening shoes were still on the mat at the back door and her raincoat was still strung on its peg. François showed me through the house, making sure there was nothing he had missed.
“Et le piano?” I asked. François led me to the piano and I quickly played a few notes. The tuning had been done and the piano sounded perfect.
“Merçi bien encore, François!”
We walked back to the front door.
“Comment bien vouz avez fait! C’est parfait!” I thanked him and he smiled, happy that he had helped.
François and Marie let themselves out and explained that if there was anything we needed during our stay just to ask.
I turned around and saw Ari with a huge smile on his face.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing, I just love it when you speak like that. It is incredibly hot.”
“Je peux parler en français aussi, Ari,” August chimed in, reminding Ari in a teasing way that he could speak French too, and then he winked.
I laughed aloud.
“What did he just say to me?” Ari demanded.
“It was just a bad joke, Ari; don’t worry about it,” I said as I moved up the stairs to show everyone to their rooms. Thankfully, Rory and Julia had made up during the last stretch of the plane ride. He had apologized profusely and said that of course he wanted to get married, maybe even some day very soon. I am not sure how honest he was really being, but Julia didn’t seem to mind. I gave them my mother’s bedroom and gave August the guest room next door to it. Ari and I took my old bedroom.
Looking around, I recalled that I had not been the average thirteen-year-old girl. There was not a drop of pink in that room and no dolls or games. I had always liked reading more than toys. . .my room looked more like a guest bedroom than anything else. I picked up my old copy of Go Ask Alice and thumbed through it. Ari sat on the bed; he looked exhausted.
“Did you guys just leave in the middle of the night or something?”
“What do you mean?” I asked, taking a seat next to him.
“Well, doesn’t this room, the whole house in fact, look as if you still live here? I mean, seriously, Ava, your toothbrush is still in the bathroom.”
He did have a point.
“My mom got a sudden job offer and she had to accept right away. We just bought all new stuff when we got to Chicago. I think she had always planned on us coming back as soon as she wasn’t needed anymore.”
“Yeah, but she went out of her way to put this house in your name before she died and she gave you specific instructions not to tell Margaux. Doesn’t that seem a bit odd to you?”
“Yeah, but that was just the way my mom worked. I sometimes think that she despised Margaux more than I do. My mom never told her where we lived when we were here; everything came through a post office box. But that all changed when we got to Chicago – Margaux visited us whenever she was in the city on business.”
“Maybe they made up,” Ari said with a yawn.
I stood up, not wanting to think about them anymore, grabbed a change of clothes, and slipped into my closet to undress. When I came back out, Ari was already in his boxers and under the sheets waiting for me. I crawled in next to him and he was out in a matter of seconds.
I stayed awake for hours unable to sleep. Ari’s iPad kept me company and I stayed up reading the news. When I got tired of that, I checked my email. I had received a message from Nora in London. August had been on top of things and had emailed to tell her that we were going to be visiting the states for a while. I had some guilt about leaving London without saying goodbye but she didn’t seem angry about that. She said the wedding would be in late July and wondered if we would be able to attend. She added that she didn’t have an address for me and so could not send August or me a proper invitation.
I really did want to go to Nora and Adler’s wedding, but the thought of returning to London made my skin crawl. I sent Nora a lengthy email back keeping her posted on my own recent engagement, my new home and my sweet reunion with Ari. I let her know I would check with August and Ari about planning a trip to London for her wedding and let her know as soon as possible.
Turning off Ari’s iPad, I tried again to sleep but it was futile. At dawn, I slipped out of bed and made my way down to the kitchen and the big coffee pot my mom kept there. I made the coffee and then poured myself a giant cup and sat down at the piano. Reluctant to wake anyone, I played very softly. The keys felt wonderful under my fingers. After about an hour of Mozart, I was startled when August sat down on the bench next to me. He put his hands on the keys and began to play “Grace Kelly.” I took the low notes, joining in on his intended duet. We both sang the fabulous French version and when it was done, we wiggled our fingers together and gave a loud “cha-ching.”
“Was that Mika?” Ari said standing behind us.
“Yeah, I guess it was,” I said. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
“No Baby, its fine. I’ve been listening from upstairs for a while.”
“Come here; I’ll teach you,” I patted my fingers on the bench as August got up to get a cup of coffee. Ari took a seat and I showed him which keys to hit for a very simple version of Heart and Soul. He wasn’t horrible and when we finally got through it, he kissed me on the cheek and smiled.
“Did you sleep at all last night?” he asked with concern.
“No, I guess I just had too much on my mind. By the way, we have been invited to Nora and Adler’s wedding. It’s the weekend before ours -- are you guys interested in going?”
“Yes!” August hissed a bit too excitedly. “Adler’s friend Smith is going to be there and I’m planning on making my move.”
“I’m sure Smith’s girlfriend will love that, August.”
“Please, Ava, that girl doesn’t have a clue.”
“Well, good luck with that, Aug. What about you, Ari – do you want to go? We don’t have to.”
“No, of course I want to go.”
I hesita
ted a bit before saying, “I’m not sure I want to go back there.”
August gave me a disappointed look.
“Ava, seriously it’s a wedding and it’s Nora’s wedding at that. You have to go.”
“Mmm,” I wrinkled my nose, “I think Ari and I may fly there and back in the same day. I don’t think I want to stay overnight in that city ever again.”
“Fine,” August grumbled, “you guys do whatever you want. I am going to stay a while.”
“Ok, just remember to be in California on August the Fourth at seven o’clock,” I looked him square in the eye to make sure he wouldn’t flake on me, then got up to start on breakfast for everyone.
We had arrived in Montréal just in time for the Franco Foiles festival that takes place in the middle week of June each year. The festival showcases different events each night downtown. On our first evening, we went to see the hottest new French singer, Brigitte. She was wonderful and we had a fantastic time. We didn’t make it home until very late into the night. I fell right asleep in Ari’s arms and I was met by nightmare after nightmare on the other side of my consciousness. I woke up screaming twice and sent a very sleepy Ari into near hysterics. He was super sweet to me; knowing I had no control over when and how menacing a dream might be.
He had the best way of calming me down, by stroking my face and talking to me really quietly, just as he had the first few nights my screams brought him into my dorm room so long ago.
This ritual provided an avenue for us to learn even more about each other, and I found out something new about Ari every night. I learned that he had broken his nose twice, once when he was eight and had been learning to surf with his dad, and then a second time when Rory punched him in class.
I learned that his favorite food is a gyro and that he’s been grounded only one time in his life, and that was when he and Rory snuck a whole bottle of ouzo and drank it all. They both got really sick. Ari said he didn’t get grounded for the drinking but for ruining his mom’s carpet when the ouzo came back up.
He even told me about his first kiss. This story made me laugh so hard, I giggled all night long, keeping him awake. He was only thirteen years old, he was shopping with his mom and sister at the market and some girl just walked up to him and started kissing him. Aggie had to shoo her away and she told Ari to get used to it. He told me he had never been more embarrassed in all of his life.
I know that he reads Ernest Hemingway and Edgar Allen Poe and he can watch the waves crash on the sand for hours without ever getting bored. Most importantly, I have learned that Ari loves me more than anything else in the whole world and he would do anything to make sure I never forget it.
Ari does not like to be asked who he is, in fact, he has never even told me. But one look at him and if you know anything about Greek history, you can tell who he is – Ari Cal Alexander, son of Agatha and Andrew Alexander, descendant of the two most beautiful deities ever known Adonis and Aphrodite.
He is perfect. Square jaw, straight nose, despite the fact it has been broken twice, and perfect skin. His eyes are a never-ending clear brown and his smile lights up every room he enters. There isn’t a soft spot on his entire body. He is lean, firm, and athletic. Ari is much more than an incredibly pretty face; he is a genius. His mind is extraordinary. I love watching him think, and argue and debate. His form of speech is always articulate and eloquent. He is never wrong, unless of course, his argument is with me, and then he’s up against it because in my opinion I am never wrong. Above all, Ari is kind and compassionate. He has the biggest heart and most unadulterated soul of anyone I have ever met. Ari’s love for his family and for me eclipses all else.
That night, he asked, as always, if I wanted to talk about my dreams and my answer was always the same: “No.” My nightmares were nothing new; no new information and no signs of No. 6, who failed to show himself. I hoped that my killing his five brothers had scared him off, but deep down inside my gut told me I was grasping after a false hope.