40. Forty

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LEVAN

I watch Ava from the kitchen; she sits on the floor of the living room, invisibly working on a sketch. I stir the boiling soup occasionally, biting down on the inside of my cheeks, trying to come up with reasons to stop myself from asking Ava to come to Ten's performance. Excuses, mutters my subconscious, not reasons, Levan, they're called excuses.

Shaking my head, I start to list down excuses why I shouldn't ask her to come with me. One, she's working, I'll probably bother her. Two, she'll get bored, kids her age don't like plays, do they? Three, even if I ask her and she agrees, what are we going to talk about? It'll be beyond awkward, not like I need more of it. A complete no. Four, between the kitchen and the living room, there's an ocean, there are probably sharks in there. I frown. Five, I hate her.

But do I? I look at her for several moments, making sure that I do.

I do hate her, I have to, she killed mom...I tell myself, gripping at the edge of the counter. She killed mom, she killed mom, she killed mom, I chant inside my head. The deafening silence returns, piercing my ears with its sharp noise. I cover my ears tightly and crouch down to the floor. Salted water from the nearby ocean licks at my feet, the sharks get dangerously close. The silence? It only grows.

I feel the very terminal need to scream, so I rush out of the house, letting the door shut with a bang behind me. I let out several infuriated grunts and groans as I kick around the lawn. The piercing sound of the silence makes me clench my teeth and my blood come to a boil, just like the soup. I return to my crouching position only when the silence starts to slip back away from me, the water recedes and the sharks leave without ripping me. I take so many deep breaths that I lose count so I count a million onwards. I close my eyes to let it wash over me with each breath that I take.

She didn't kill mom. It was just meant to be.

My whole body sways as realization seeps into my skin like water in sand. The weather, having a mind of its own, takes a one eighty and the clouds start to growl at me. What have you done Levan? You're terrible. They say. Except I can't answer, so I stare at the sky in silence.

"Levan?" says Ava, making my head whip to her direction. She's cautiously standing at the door with her hands to her sides. Her bright blue eyes are wide as she gawks at me. It's as if, for once in more than a decade, we connect. Blue eyes to blue eyes.

"I'm sorry," I blurt, overcome by how weighed down yet lightweight I feel looking at her. All worry washes away from her face and it's replaced by what I can only comprehend as a complete calm. Her mouth falls open, her eyes gloss over, she struggles for words. I want to tell her that I'm struggling too, and I can't tell her how awful I've been feeling all this while.

I hold my breath and only let it go when she nods quietly. I close my eyes and feel the sky as it wraps me up and leaves me drenched with its embrace. I'm still heaving from the tidal wave of thoughts and emotions that ran through me, but I stand up just fine.

"Are you okay?" she asks, her voice only a whisper. She takes a step in my direction as I walk back toward the house, I feel the ocean between us reduce to nothing.

Swallowing the final rock that holds my words, I nod at her, "I'm okay. You hungry?" I ask, offering her a hand. She stares at my hand nervously for a moment. When she looks up, her blue irises, which remind me of mom's, send a sharp sting down my spine. It's weird, and it's hard to, but I make myself flash her a smile, "Come then, lunch is ready..." I say to her, before she takes my hand. I hold her hand firmly, wanting to tell her I'd never let go, as we walk back into the house and it's as if the dead house livens up in a long, long time. Almost like it never really was dead.

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