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sixty-three f

The Visit

T he next year or two blur in my memory. Dancing, drugging, and drinking occupied most of my time. I continued stalking the self-help shelves of the library, hoping to find a way out of my self-induced misery. I’d find sobriety for a day or two, but then the bottle, pipe, and line called to me. The substance was stronger than my will.

My fortieth birthday in March 1984 came and went. No one in the clubs knew my true age. Dancers hit their peak in their mid-twenties. Most died or retired before they reached thirty. I knew I was on a path to destruction and couldn’t last much longer.

In my clearheaded moments as Ava Novak, I prayed my soul would be reborn. The rest of the time as Ava Martin, I ran on automatic. Depression and insecurity governed my world.

A phone call that spring changed everything.

“Hey, doll, guess who?”

“Mike!” It took a moment to realize I was hyperventilating.

I sat on a kitchen chair to keep myself from collapsing. Was he out of prison? Out to kill me?

“That’s all ya have to say?”

“W-why are you calling?”

“Just wanna say hi. Catch up on old times.”

“How did you get my number?”

“I got my ways,” he said.

“Where are you?”

“Allenwood. Y’know, the country club ya sent me to.”

“You sent yourself.”

“No hard feelings. I been thinkin’ ’bout ya. Gets awful lonely here.”

I stayed silent.

“How’d ya like to come for a visit?”

“In prison?”

“I thought maybe we could start over. Let bygones be bygones.”

“I don’t know—”

“Please, doll. It’d mean a helluva lot to me.”

“I guess I could.” I couldn’t believe I was falling for Mike’s bullshit.

Two days later, armed with a large coffee and a road map, I set out on the two-hour journey. I fantasized about our meeting and rehearsed what I’d say to Mike, until my car came to a stop on the Pennsylvania Turnpike. I watched as police cars and ambulances hurried past.

An accident. I’ll be stuck for hours.

A light turned on in my brain. What was I doing? I wanted Mike out of my life. He didn’t deserve a visit from me.

The traffic began to crawl. I made my way to the next exit, turned around, and headed home.