Beyond the Point(83)

“Thanks for having me, sir.” Noah shook Hank’s hand firmly.

“Well, she refused to come if we didn’t invite you, so we really didn’t have a choice,” Hank said jokingly. “Can I get you a beer? We’ve got Yuengling.”

They moved into the kitchen, where Avery introduced Noah to her brothers. Caleb, now twenty-one years old, had the same sheet of blond hair covering his eyes that he’d had since he was sixteen. The tongue of his Rolling Stones T-shirt looked as if it was trying to lick Avery’s chest as Caleb reached out to hug his big sister, who now was several inches shorter than him. No longer in his awkward phase, he’d stretched nearly six feet tall and was considering applying for film school in California.

Blake looked exactly as he always had—thick brown hair, with a square jaw and clean-shaven face. He’d just finished his residency and had moved back to Pittsburgh to practice family medicine. The most boring kind of doctor, in Avery’s opinion: he’d be treating colds and hemorrhoids the rest of his life.

“Hey.” Avery’s older brother shook her boyfriend’s hand. “Heard a lot about you, man. This is my wife, Carolyn.”

“Carolyn.” Avery smiled, reaching to hug her sister-in-law. “How are you?”

From the looks of it, Carolyn had either gained thirty pounds or was three months pregnant—Avery couldn’t be sure and wasn’t about to ask. They hadn’t spoken since Christmas, when Carolyn had given Avery an extremely ugly sweater from Ann Taylor Loft that still hadn’t come out of the box.

“I’m good,” she said, reaching for a Yuengling from the counter. Not pregnant, then, Avery assessed. Carolyn lifted her beer toward her husband. “Blake’s been forcing me to go to the gym with him. Me! In the gym! Can you imagine it?”

No, Avery wanted to say. I’d rather not.

“Where’s Mom?” Avery asked Caleb.

“In the back. Sweet sleeve,” Caleb said, noticing Noah’s arm of tattoos. “How long did that take?”

While Noah showed off his body art, Avery walked toward her parents’ bedroom, where she could hear the low hum of her mother’s hair dryer.

It was strange to watch your parents age, Avery realized, inspecting her mother’s reflection in the master bathroom mirror. She finished drying her hair, then applied lotion to the sagging skin on her neck. In your twenties, time was measured in milestones: marriages, new jobs, promotions. But later, time marked itself with wrinkles, like scars. Her mother looked great for her age—her skin glowed and her hair was an enviable shade of gold—but something in her eyes betrayed a quiet sadness. Like she was embarrassed by what she saw in the mirror.

“Mom.”

“Oh, Avery!” Lonnie jumped. “You scared me!”

They embraced tightly, rocking back and forth, before Lonnie pulled back and got a bright glint in her eye. “Is he here?”

“Yes,” Avery answered, rolling her eyes. “Don’t make a big deal out of it, okay?” No questions about her job. Not even a question about the drive. Her mother had jumped straight to the one thing she cared about: Avery’s relationship status. “We’re taking it slow,” Avery added.

“Well, it is a big deal.” Her mother fished a pair of pearl earrings from a jewelry dish on the bathroom counter and slipped them into her sagging lobes. “Meeting the family.”

“Just be cool.”

“I’m cool!” Lonnie said. “Oh, before I forget, something came in the mail for you.”

Her mother led the way across the hall to Avery’s childhood bedroom, which Avery expected to have remained untouched, like the rest of the house. But when the door opened, rather than her pink-painted walls and queen-sized bed, she saw the room had been transformed into a home office, complete with a large desktop computer and a rolling ergonomic chair. Gone were her AAU basketball trophies and the bouquets of dried flowers, hung upside down on the wall like trophies of their own—artifacts of relationships long past.

Avery’s mind tried to quickly catch up to what her eyes were seeing. Everything of hers had been removed. A stack of cardboard boxes waited in the corner, with her name written on them in Sharpie marker.

“What happened to my room?”

Her mother looked amused by Avery’s surprise. “You’ve been gone for six years, Ave. I needed an office.”

“For what?” Avery said cruelly. Her mother didn’t work. “And what about Blake’s room?”

Her mother’s face stiffened. “Blake still comes home, believe it or not.” She walked to the desk, picked up a white envelope, and handed it to Avery. “It’s from West Point. I didn’t know if it was important. You’d think they’d have your current address.”

Lonnie walked out the door toward the kitchen, muttering something about checking on the pot roast. When they entered the kitchen, Avery mindlessly ran a finger under the envelope’s sealed flap. While Noah traded workouts with Blake, a single sheet of paper unfolded in Avery’s hands.

Our records show that you were listed as a plaintiff in the Department of Defense Case #03–2754, Department of the Army vs. Jonathan T. Collins.

Avery closed the letter quickly. The warmth disappeared from her face.

“What was it?” her mother asked from the other side of the kitchen.