Of course, the rest of the place had changed as well. Gone were the Persian rugs her father and mother had bought in Tehran during their last visit, replaced with two beige couches and a leather recliner that Leslie had picked out. Gone were the gold-footed coffee table and the silk swags on the windows that Ava used to play among when she was little; in their place was a glass table and modern wooden blinds. Ava wasn’t sure what Leslie was trying to erase—her husband’s heritage, or his ex-wife’s legacy.
They reached the front door, and Ava went up on her tiptoes to give Alex one more good-bye kiss. Ava was tall, but he still had a good six inches on her. “Call me when you get home,” she said.
He nodded. “Love you,” he said, kissing her lightly on the forehead before stepping outside.
“Ava?” she heard from upstairs, as she shut the door behind him. “Is that you?”
Her father appeared at the top of the staircase wearing a white terry cloth robe he would have never bought for himself—clearly a Leslie purchase. His graying hair was mussed, the way it always looked when he was working late, and his wire-frame glasses hung low on his nose. “How’s my girl?” he asked, just the hint of an accent left in his voice.
“Everything is great!” Ava winced, realizing she’d injected far too much enthusiasm in the lie. But to her surprise, her father didn’t catch it.
“I’m glad. Good night, jigar,” he said, using their old Iranian term of endearment. Ava felt a sudden rush of affection for her father. With all her stress about the Nolan stuff, she hadn’t spent enough time with him lately. She resolved to change that.
“Good night,” she replied, watching as he headed back into his room. She started up the stairs, then changed her mind and went to the kitchen for a glass of water, fumbling for the light switch on the wall.
“Hi, Ava,” came a slurred voice from the darkness.
“Leslie!” Ava jumped at least a foot into the air. Why are you sitting in the pitch-darkness like a total creep? she wanted to ask. Her fingers found the switch, and the kitchen was suddenly flooded with light, revealing another room she barely recognized, with its glossy granite countertops and new cabinetry. Leslie sat perched on one of the stools, her long, tanned legs crossed, her blond hair loose around her face, and an empty bottle of Chardonnay next to her on the table.
Just looking at Leslie filled Ava with frustration. Her mother had been short and frumpy, with frizzy reddish hair that she kept in a bun. Nothing like this hard, brittle woman. And her father had loved her mother for her mind: She’d been the head of the math department at UDub, brilliant and flustered and funny. Ava still wasn’t sure if Leslie even had a mind. And what brains she did have, she seemed intent on drinking away.
“I think the question is, what were you doing, sneaking your boyfriend out late at night?” Leslie challenged.
“It’s nine PM, and we were watching a movie in the den. Last I checked, that was still allowed.” Ava crossed her arms over her chest defensively.
“I think you’re spending too much time with him. I’d like it if he didn’t come around here anymore,” Leslie said slowly.
“Oh yeah?” Ava shot back. “Well, good thing it’s not really up to you.”
Leslie barely flinched. “I’m worried about you, Ava.” Her voice dripped with false concern. “I heard some troubling things about you recently, about the sudden . . . upturn in your GPA. I’d hate to have to share them with your father.”
Ava gasped. How in the world would Leslie hear those rumors? Another mother? Did lots of parents know? “Th-those are just nasty rumors that an ex-boyfriend started,” she stammered.
“See?” Leslie smiled, showing her too-white teeth. “It’s always about boys with you, Ava. What am I supposed to do except ask you to stop seeing this Alex person?”
Ava’s hands clenched into fists at her sides, and she struggled to control her breathing. Even in death, Nolan Hotchkiss was still managing to ruin her life.
The spring of sophomore year, Ava and Nolan had dated for several months—Ava didn’t normally run with his crowd, but Nolan had sought her out and had been so persistent that Ava couldn’t say no. And while certain things about Nolan annoyed her, she had to admit it had been, well, fun being Nolan Hotchkiss’s girlfriend. Freshman girls parted for her in the hallway, the way they normally did for Julie Redding and Parker Duvall and their minions. Everyone kept offering her things, study guides and hall passes and invitations to country clubs and lake houses. When she heard that Nolan was bragging about how he was going to sleep with her after junior prom, she wasn’t even as bothered by it as she should’ve been—and she hated that now, hated that she hadn’t had the self-respect to see what a scumbag he was. She’d been too wrapped up in his dazzling smile and his lying words, and she went ahead and did everything he wanted.
It was afterward, while Nolan was in the shower, that she picked up his iPhone to put on some music—and saw the texts. There were naked shots from dozens of girls in their class, including one from Delia Marks just an hour earlier. I want to see you, she had texted. Tomorrow night, Nolan had replied—while he’d been with Ava. Can’t wait to see you. Every inch of you.