She had to quarantine at her apartment for two weeks after she got home. Zoey showed up at her place every day, lingering on the other side of the open door, six feet apart, both of them wearing masks and face shields. Meyer and I joined them a few times via the trusty old iPad, and I gotta be honest...this whole thing has given me an even greater appreciation for technology than I previously had.
And eventually, when the two weeks were up, it was time for me to leave my Jazz Manor for the first time in nearly six months. I loaded up my Porsche 911 that had been parked for the majority of the year with a few essentials, hit the road, and only stopped to fill up the tank. I pulled into the Austin city limits eight hours later and—at Zoey’s behest—went straight to an urgent care clinic for a rapid result test. Another thirty minutes later, I had a negative result and was cruising down a highway nestled between rolling, tree-covered hills. Beyond the hills was a wide, glittering river, and beyond that was the city skyline, and I remembered seeing this view for the first time months ago in Ava’s little profile picture. It was pretty spectacular in real life, and I decided I could live here just fine if that’s what she wants.
And finally, finally,finally...after a day’s worth of driving, after two weeks of her quarantining, after five weeks of her being in the hospital, and six weeks after I let her walk away from me...I pull into Ava’s apartment complex, and park my car. Armed with a mask and proof of my negative COVID status, I knock on the door and wait.
The door swings open to reveal Zoey, also wearing a mask and standing at a distance. She holds up her hand like a stop sign. “Let’s see the test result.”
I hold it out to her, she inspects it, and then steps aside. “Come on in. But don’t try to hug me or anything. I don’t really like hugging anyway. I think that’s the one thing I’m going to keep avoiding when all this virus crap is over.”
I smirk. “No worries. I don’t need a hug.”
I step over the threshold and glance around the apartment. It’s actually a lot nicer and more spacious than most of the apartments I was used to in New York before hitting it big. The walls are plain and white, but there’s a cushy, cream-colored couch, a blonde wood coffee table, and a slate blue rug. A wide mirror with a simple, gilded frame hangs above the back of the couch. Dark wood side tables with matching lamps flank the sides, and two matching overstuffed chairs sit perpendicular to the center. The atmosphere has a subtle scent of cinnamon and vanilla, and it’s all very serene and feminine. Clean and cozy. Simple, but veryAva.
A short hall stretches between the living room and small, open kitchen, and Zoey notices me peering down it. “Her room’s back there, and she’s napping.” She folds her arms across her chest and shifts her weight. “She’s better, but this thing did kick her ass, and it’s going to be a while before she’s got her stamina back. Her immune system is kinda fucked, so she’s going to be prone to other little illnesses for a while, so just be prepared for her to do a whole lot of lying around, doing nothing and not feeling so great from time to time. She’s lost a lot of weight, and her appetite is still basically nothing, but try to get her to eat a little every few hours. Make sure she takes her vitamins every day. Keep her hydrated and try not to let her drink much alcohol. Ideally none at all.” She raises her eyebrows. “Donotfuckingsmokeanywhere near her.”
I shake my head. “I quit smoking weeks ago.”
“Good.” She offers a single, deft nod and sucks in a deep breath before exhaling long, but quietly. “I guess that’s pretty much it. If y’all decide to go back to New Orleans, make it a straight shot, and if any of those people at your house are going out again, keep them on a separate floor. She really needs to limit her germ exposure for a while.”
I cross my heart. “I’ll guard her with my life.”
Zoey bends down to pick up her phone and keys off the coffee table, and then stands up straight, casting me a severe look. “You better.” She points at me. “And if you hurt her again, you’re gonna answer to me. I’ll one-hundred-percent risk catching that virus to come to New Orleans just to kick your ass.”
I hold up one hand like I’m taking an oath. “I swear on my life I won’t hurt her again.”
“Good.” She offers a casual wave and heads for the door.
“Thanks again for everything, Zoey,” I say earnestly. “And I do mean everything. You’re a real lifesaver.”
“I know.” She smiles smugly and pulls open the door. “Happy lovey-dovey make up time.”
I can’t help smiling as she closes the door behind her, and then I set down my bag in one corner of the living room. I peel off the mask and scrub my hands in the kitchen sink, then dry them, and slip my hand into the pocket of my jeans.
Still safely tucked inside is the ring I bought after Ava called me in her panicked delirium and sobbed that she loved me and needed me. It took about two weeks of shopping online before I found just the right one. I have no idea if she’s going to say yes or not, but it’s a chance worth taking, and I intend to find out the answer shortly after she wakes up.
Quietly heading down the hall, I nudge the door open, and my breath catches at the sight of her.
She’s just sleeping peacefully. Curled up in the center of the bed, on her side with one long, slender arm stretched out across the comforter. Her dark hair is spread out on the pillow behind her head. There’s nothing extraordinary about the sight of her silently snoozing away, but after everything that happened over the past six weeks, she is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and I’ve never loved anything this much. Not even close.
I silently step out of my sneakers and peel off the old gray hoodie—no fancy-ass suits necessary for a day like today—and drape it on the bedpost. I quietly make my way across the room and gingerly,carefully, ease onto the bed behind her. Wrapping one arm around her middle, I internally wince at how much smaller she is after the ordeal, then nestle my face in the crook of her neck and pull her close against my chest.
Ava stirs slightly, inhaling a deep breath and exhaling quietly. I lay as still as possible, and I listen.
She breathes.
A long, easy inhale.
No hitches. No catches. No hint of a struggle.
An effortless, extended exhale.
The air enters and exits her lungs, carefree and involuntary, exactly the way it should.
If I were standing, the subtle sound of it would knock me to my knees.
The simple, basic, steady rhythm of her drawing air into her lungs without a struggle is like the most heavenly song; music to my ears. I press my lips to the skin of her neck and close my eyes, and gratitude the likes of which I’ve never felt crashes over me.
I think of every nurse and doctor at that hospital; most of whom I never learned their names, most of whom I never saw their faces, but I’ll never forget a single one of them, because they are the ones who gave me this gift. I couldn’t give them anything in return other than a handful of words over FaceTime just before Ava was getting ready to go home.
