Fearless Read-Along: Chapter Twenty-Seven

 She’d been at school three weeks when Maggie’s usual phone call took on a shivery edge. They talked about class and Aidan’s typical stupidity back home as Ava picked through a microwavable lasagna at her tiny apartment table. All alone. No roommates. Just her and her books and her mother’s voice.

               Maggie said, her words becoming tiptoe careful, “I got a phone call today.”
               Ava knew, before she swallowed her burned hunk of noodles, exactly who’d called. “Really?” she asked, tone casual, as her heart accelerated.
               “Ava,” Maggie said. “I gave him your address.”

And here we have Maggie Teague once again winning Mother of the Year. 

Okay, that's not fair, and I don't really mean it. I always let the readers decide whether Maggie is a "good" or a "bad" mom. For me, she's not only a sympathetic one, but an empathetic one. She understands Ava's heartbreak acutely. When she cries when they drop Ava off in Georgia, she's sad to be away from her baby, yes, but mostly she's very afraid of Ava's mental state. From detachment, to outburst when Mercy left Knoxville, and back to complete and total detachment - shutdown, even - Ava presents a portrait of very shaky mental stability. Likewise, she knows Mercy isn't doing well, to put it mildly. When he calls, she weighs the pros and cons of telling him where Ava is. She decides - or hopes, rather - that, out from under Ghost's judgmental gaze, they can comfort one another. 

Needless to say, the comfort's a little cold. 

               Mercy’s large, rough hand settled in the middle of her back, a warm brand against her skin, some silent communication she didn’t know how to read.

               “I don’t know you anymore,” she said again, voice broken and shivery, “and that’s the worst part.”

               She listened to him get to his feet, straighten his clothes. He kissed her, one lingering stroke of his lips against the top of her head, and he left. Again.

               The next morning, as she pressed a cool washcloth to the dark circles under her eyes, she cut him out of her heart for good.

               At least, she thought she did.

There are always things that I know that the audience doesn't. If we play the What If game with this chapter, Mercy would not have broken down the door if Ava hadn't opened it. Both of them know this, but the threat of it offers Ava a glimpse of his pain. A small one, and one that, after they've crashed together on her apartment floor, she's able to dismiss in the face of her own pain, and post-coital clarity/regret. 

Instead of reconciling, Mercy and Ava both walk away from this moment with nothing but another helping of hurt. 

I've said it before in these read-along posts, but going back ten years later and truly reading the book, word for word, as opposed to keyword searching to write later books, hits totally different than when I was writing it. While writing, I'm mentally rubbing my hands together. "Haha, yes, this is going to be so angsty!" But coming at it from a reader, it's just sad. It's tragic, and stressful, and frustrating. I find myself most frustrated with Mercy, because he won't tell her here what happened; he should have totally thrown Ghost under the bus, professed his undying love for her, and lived happily ever after. I understand now why I get all those "I was so angry!" responses. And I love it. 😈

This marks the last of the big flashback chapters. Next time, it's back to present day, and all the chaos that's about to unfold.