London from My Windows by Mary Carter

propped her laptop on the desk and she sat in front of it, while her mother perched on the sofa in the background. She didn’t expect to reach him right away, so she was startled when she soon found herself looking at one Jasper Keyes, Esquire. He didn’t look how Ava imagined a London lawyer—barrister—would look. She thought he’d be old, and gray, and admittedly wearing one of those white wigs the English still donned in court. She even imagined him dressed like Ben Franklin, except all in red. It was a far cry from the attractive man staring at her now. He didn’t appear to be more than five years older than she was. Not that she was an expert at guessing ages, by any means. For all she knew, all that rain and fog in London kept Brits looking younger. Either way, there was something boyish and vulnerable about him. Maybe it was his wavy hair, the kind you wanted to run your hands through before handing him a brush. He looked tall, even though he was sitting down. He was wearing a navy T-shirt that made the blue of his eyes pop. People always complimented Ava on her blue eyes, but in her opinion his had hers beat. Especially with those eyelashes. Totally unfair. Perhaps his nose was a little big, and there was a hint of darkness underneath his blue eyes as if he could use a good, long nap, but there was no denying it, he was a very attractive man. He focused on Ava, but even though he smiled, he looked as if he’d just lost a dear friend.
    Gretchen sat straight up, smiled at the camera, and adjusted her bandana at least ten times.
    â€œFirst and foremost, I am so sorry for your loss,” Jasper said after they introduced themselves. He looked at Gretchen.
    â€œI love your accent,” Gretchen said. “Very posh.”
    â€œMy loss,” Ava said. His eyes flicked to hers and stayed there. He was in pain. The thought hit her again. Shit. He was going to make her cry. Ava looked away. She wanted to reach out and grab him through the screen. She wanted him to bring Aunt Beverly back to life.
    â€œI was very close to your aunt. We even went skydiving a few weeks back.” Skydiving. Skydiving. Skydiving. With her aunt Beverly. A seventy-something-year-old woman. A million times the woman Ava would ever be. Apparently an adventurous spirit wasn’t genetic. “I jumped right after her. Screaming my bloody head off. But Beverly. She was like a bird.” He stared off into the distance. He loved her. That’s why he looked so sad. A total stranger was grieving over her aunt. She wanted to comfort him, and pummel him at the same time. Her family. Her blood. Yet he was the one who got to love her. Ava wanted to ask Jasper a million questions about her aunt. She wanted to know, urgently, if Aunt Bev hated her. Was ashamed of her. Ever thought of her. She wanted to know if Aunt Bev thought she was handicapped.
    â€œHow did she die?” Ava had trouble spitting out the question. She didn’t want to cry in front of Jasper; what right did she have to grieve for a woman she’d never met?
    â€œShe had terminal cancer. I think it started as breast cancer, but I’m not sure. It had spread quite rapidly. She didn’t even go for treatment.”
    â€œOh God,” Ava said.
    â€œBut she didn’t suffer long. She died in her sleep. Very, very peaceful.”
    â€œUnless she was having a bad dream,” Ava said.
    Jasper looked taken aback. “I don’t think she was having a bad dream.”
    â€œHow do you know?”
    â€œShe looked peaceful.”
    â€œAva always thinks the worst,” Gretchen said.
    I don’t! Ava wanted to shout. How could her mother embarrass her like that? Ava should have never let her in on the call. “Not always.” It was the most she could sputter without tearing into her mother. Every time she even felt a tiny bit of anger it was engulfed by sadness. She hated that. She wanted to retain her anger. Diana