Missed Connections

Chapter 50 - From the Inside Out

I shift my weight and cross my legs, never letting go of Louis' hands. I close my eyes for a moment, letting the still rich heat of the ebbing afternoon sun warm my skin. The rays warm my insides. Nature, still my nerves. Deep breath. Share.

"Where do I start? Ava has been so entwined in my journey and I've come so far... I'm not sure where to find the starting of our narrative thread. Her words, her advice is knitted into who I am. It's like the powers that be sent an amazing seamstress into my life, and she has done such a neat set of whip stitches that you can't tell the garment is handmade..."

Louis watches me with a look of amused interest.

"Oh shit," I say, putting my hands over my mouth. "That probably didn't make any sense."

"Your poetic lyricism was brilliant, but just a little too cerebral for me to follow."

"Damn. It's weird to talk about Ava. Up until now, I've only told Tegan and Paisley about her. The rest of my Toronto crew is oblivious."

"Then I'm all the more honoured to be included," replies Louis. His voice is soft and comforting. Crinkles of affections are visible in the corners of his eyes. Louis' long lashes shine in the sunlight. He looks angelic.

"Be careful, babe. Your nurturing side is showing, " I tease.

"Shh, don't tell." Louis winks.

My tummy flip flops.

"So, what happened with Wes really rocked me. To my very core. Definite PTSD material. Ava helped me tons during that time. Makes sense, right? Grief counseling and all that. Processing the trauma." I pause and swallow deliberately. The lump of emotion I associate with Wes resumes its beloved position in my throat. Pangs of hurt begin to radiate down into my chest, crushing the part of my heart forever devoted to my first love.

Breathe. Accept. Repeat. Go on.

"Most people assume that's when I started seeing Ava.  It's not.  It was during my  last year in high school.  My home life was strained,  especially things between my mom and I.  Wes urged me to find someone I  could talk to. Like, really talk to. Delve into some of my feelings, process them, and whatnot. But I dragged my feet. I always thought it was only weird people, ones who can't handle life, who went to counseling. Wes said that was bullshit, and kept on me to go.

"He said that it took a whole lot of balls to confront your inner demons. And that taking this first step could lead to something amazing; I just needed to be open. He said having faith requires a giant first leap, but the journey usually gets easier from there. Wes was so determined, and he nagged me for almost 4 months. Good thing, too. Just after New Year's, the vicious cycle of negativity between my parents came to a breaking point."

My eyes flick towards Louis. No weird judgement there, stupid. He's a pretty fucking amazing person. Don't forget that.

"My father has never really been...domestic..." I struggle with my words, gesturing randomly. "He was always around when I was growing up. But not engaged, if that makes sense."

"Sort of," replies Louis.

"Let me put it this way," I say with a smile, "If anyone could ghost on being a dad, it's him. I always got the impression that he liked the idea of being a father, rather than the practicality of it. And it annoys the shit out of Mom. She orders him around and directs him like he's my older sibling, rather than the person who helped create me. It does not make for a happy dynamic. They are both resentful as fuck, and I'm stuck in the middle."

"Add my mother's anxiety into the mix, and it's the perfect shit storm. That woman has an honest-to-God anxiety disorder, I swear. But damned if you can get her to believe it or get diagnosed. No, she's too fucking stubborn. She knows what is best for herself and everyone else. Yet, if one thing goes a stray in her plan, her world comes to an end. It may seem like an exaggeration, but I have seen her nearly lose it because she couldn't find her favourite brand of yogurt at the grocery store..."