‘What do you mean?’
‘Just stop by the cottage and we’ll talk,’ he patted her arm comfortingly.
‘Fine,’ she blew out a breath.
She watched him walk back across the cemetery as she reached into her bag and pulled out a bottle. Taking a deep gulp of the lukewarm water she headed toward her dog who watched her approach with a thumping tail. Kneeling down next to her Ava slowly poured the water into her hand and watched as Bailey lapped it up enthusiastically.
‘Is that better girl?’ She stroked her head gently, ‘wanna go for a ride? Huh?’ She rubbed her fur soothingly, ‘looks like we’ve got somewhere to be.’
Bailey jumped to her feet as Ava stood and slipped the half empty bottle back into her bag, dusting off her jeans. She turned and took one last look at her mother’s grave as it was being filled in. Her heart suddenly thudded dully in her chest and her mouth turned down. Everything suddenly felt so final.
Bailey nudged her legs with her blunt nose as if sensing her hesitation.
‘Come on then,’ Ava sighed and headed back toward her truck.
Opening the door Bailey jumped up into the cab and curled up on the bench next to her. Pulling away she flicked the radio on and idly flipped through the stations for a few minutes before finally switching it back off.
She drove through town slowly, barely registering the bustling farmers’ market. Turning onto one of the main streets her eyes were once again assaulted with a cacophony of bright colors. It was Bisbee pride and everywhere she looked were rainbow flags, brightly dressed people in elaborate costumes and rainbow beads.
She smiled; she couldn’t help it. She could feel it in the air, the sense of community. It was a celebration, filled with music and laughter, but despite the flamboyantly dressed patrons her heart still ached, and one thought pounded in her aching head like a relentless bass drum. Mom is dead… mom is dead…
She wound her way through the streets leaving the sounds of celebration behind her. Bisbee, Arizona wasn’t such a bad place to live considering some of the shit holes her mom had dragged her through over the years. Although Bisbee had been one of her mother’s favorites, probably because Baz was there, it hadn’t called to Ava, she didn’t feel it in her soul.
She’d always thought she’d know it, the place she would call home. She’d traveled far and wide, both with her mom and on her own as soon as she was old enough, but she’d never found it, her place in the world, the sense of belonging she craved. Lately she’d begun to wonder if her soul was just as restless as her mom’s had been.
Before long she pulled up outside Baz’s place. What he’d affectionately referred to as ‘the cottage’ was in reality a rather squat, single storey building with chipped clapboards and peeling yellow paint.
Ava glanced over at Bailey, who’d lifted her head and pricked her ears.
‘What do you think?’ Ava asked her.
Bailey cocked her head, blinking her large dark eyes as her tail thumped rhythmically against the torn seat.
‘That’s what I thought,’ Ava sighed. ‘Come on, let’s get this over with.’
Opening the door and stepping down onto the sidewalk she felt Bailey jump down behind her. They crossed the dry, sparse patches of brown grass and headed for the house which had a beaded curtain instead of a screen door.
Shaking her head, Ava reached out, parting the strands of shell colored beads to reveal an open door.
‘Baz?’ she called out.
‘Come in,’ his disembodied voice echoed back, ‘something to drink?’
Stepping through the curtain with her dog she followed the voice through to the back and found Baz in the kitchen.
‘No thanks,’ she shook her head, ‘I’m good but can I have a bowl of water for Bailey?’
‘Of course, of course,’ he nodded bustling around the kitchen as he filled a brightly colored clay bowl and set it down on the tiled floor before reaching into the refrigerator and pulling out a beer for himself. He popped the top and took a deep swig, swallowing with an audible gulp as his eyes locked on hers.
‘Come,’ he nodded toward the doorway and pushed away from the counter with Ava following behind him, leaving Bailey contentedly lying on the cool tiles lapping at her water.
The room he led her into was a warm inviting living room. The walls were covered with bright hand painted murals of forests and sunsets. Sun catchers hung from the ceiling, rotating slowly with the displacement of air as they passed beneath them. Along one wall was a sagging couch and beside it stood a roughhewn bookcase covered in photos, some framed, others simply propped against each other, their edges curling with age.
Ava froze as her gaze fell on one in particular. She reached out with trembling fingers and lifted the dusty frame from the back of the shelf. Her dark eyes studied the image even as her fingertips traced the lines and curves of the picture.
A young man stared back at her through the lens of the camera. His long dark curly hair reached the base of his neck and hung forward into his laughing eyes. Bare chested and barefoot, and wearing nothing but cutoff jeans he sat astride a gorgeous black 1944 Indian Scout. Incidentally, the same motorcycle which she knew would claim his life only months after this photo was taken. She glanced down to see the smiling five-year-old girl in front of him wearing pigtails and aviator sunglasses, her grin almost identical to his.
She looked across to Baz who’d settled himself comfortably on the worn out old blue couch with a huge glass bong planted between his legs.
‘You still have this picture of me and my dad?’
Baz wrapped his lips around the end of the pipe and inhaled deeply, the water in the bulb of the glass bubbling slightly as he pulled away and leaned back against the cushions, his head falling back as he released a long slow stream of smoke.
After a moment he blinked and spoke.
‘Yeah.’
Ava moved over to the seat opposite him and sank down slowly onto the tasseled afghan cover and waited. She’d spent enough time with her mother over the years to know how to deal with a stoner.
She waited patiently.
‘He was a good man,’ Baz spoke again after a few more moments, his voice low and raspy, his gaze pensive. ‘He loved you and your mama.’
‘Yes, he did,’ Ava replied quietly as her gaze was once again drawn to the photograph in her hands.
‘He was my best friend,’ Baz murmured, ‘nearly broke your mama when he died… guess they’re together again at last.’
He leaned forward over the bong and sparked up his lighter, taking another deep pull.
Ava placed the photo frame down on the untidy coffee table in front of her and glanced up at the wall above Baz’s head. It was almost impossible to believe that the guy sitting in front of her lugging a bong was a bona fide lawyer, but it was true according to the framed certificates and credentials on the wall.
‘Baz,’ she sighed in frustration, ‘what did you want to talk to me about? I don’t mean to be rude but everything’s still a little raw. I’m not really ready to sit here and reminisce about my dead parents.’
‘No,’ he agreed as he exhaled another thick cloud of smoke, ‘you’re here for the reading of her will.’
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a rumpled piece of paper. Smoothing out the creases he laid it on the couch next to him and began patting down his torso as if he couldn’t quite recall what he was looking for.