Summer's Never Looked The Same

"I'm proud of you, Ava." Ryan smiles as we sit cross-legged on the floor of the familiar garage room.

"Thanks, Ryan. Dad looked at me like I was crazy when I told him your answer to his question." I reply, tracing patterns on the cold pavement with the tip of my finger.

He cackles, then says, "I can imagine him being freaked out. Man, I miss you guys."

"We miss you too."

"Are they making any new movies soon?"

"They're thinking about it. I don't know all the details though." I say. We didn't say much of anything else until a question pops into my head.

"Did it hurt?"

"Did what hurt?"

"The crash. Did you feel anything?"

"Nah. It was really quick. I hit my head and it was like a permanent black out."

I sigh in relief. "Half of the reason why I was so bothered by the crash was that they didn't know if you and Zach died from blunt force trauma or the explosion."

"No, it was definitely blunt force trauma. I'm pretty sure it was the same for Zach."

"Where is he by the way?"

"I don't know. But we usually hang out somewhere else."

"Is it basically heaven?"

"I don't think it is. It doesn't really feel like it. When I was younger, all the people at our church said that you feel nothing but happiness when you're in heaven. And that there are gold streets and all that shit. It's nothing like that. It's just that I'll end up in the most random places. Like a forest or lake. And I've only been bothered by one emotion, and that's sadness. I miss all my friends and family." He says sadly. "But I've been hanging out with the people I knew who passed away before me."

"Well, we miss you too, Ryan. But... why did you drink and drive? Even after I warned you not to when we were on the phone?" I interrogate him, feeling a little angry now that I remember our phone call hours before he died.

"I didn't feel anything when I left the bar. We started driving and I felt like something was wrong right after we left. Then we crashed."

"Were you trying to do a stunt?"

"I don't think so. I can't really remember if I was or not."

"In all honesty, I wish you had been more careful. Even if you had just one beer, I wish you had called a taxi instead."

"I know, I'm sorry."

"Well... it's too late now. I wish it wasn't true, but everybody's gonna have to face it."

He looks up in the corner behind me, then looks back at me. "You're going to be waken up by Bam in a minute. I'm gonna go. I'll see you later, okay?"

"Okay."

Everything fades to black.

I open my eyes when I feel someone shaking my shoulder.

"Ava! Come on, I'm hungry! Come get something to eat with me!" I hear Bam exclaim, shaking me even harder.

"Ow! Stop it! I'm up!" I yell, sitting up from my laying position. "Do you know what they have for breakfast this morning?"

"Nope. But I hope it's better than yesterday's food." He answers, scrunching his face up in disgust.

I laugh at his expression as I stumble out of bed. He's still in his pajamas. I don't care if we go down to the cafeteria in our pajamas. Almost everyone does it every morning.

It's been three months since Bam and I were admitted to the rehab facility. It isn't as bad as I thought it'd be. For me at least. Bam went through hell when he was withdrawing. I felt so bad for him. But I'm glad he didn't have to face the withdrawals alone. I was by his side whenever he thought he had spiders crawling all over him. Or when he thought his fingers were turning into snakes.

We plan on staying until the 19th, one day before the one year anniversary of Ryan's death. Bam feels ready to leave. So do I. We could've left last month, but I wanted to make sure we'd be strong enough to go out into the world clean. We wanted to take extra precautions.

Bam and I are best friends again. Like nothing between us ever happened. I also reunited with my dad and the rest of the Jackass crew again. I feel better knowing that we're all okay with each other now. And I've been talking to Brooke more than ever. Like Dad and the guys, she tries to call as much as she can to see how I'm doing.

Ryan has been in my dreams almost every night since the dream at the warehouse. I don't know how long he's going to stay. Whether it'll be my entire life or if he'll be staying for another while until I'm finished with rehab. I've been meaning to ask him, but I keep forgetting to because of the happiness I feel whenever I see him again.

No one knows about my encounters with Ryan. I have no idea if my therapist would think I'm crazy and put me on prescriptions for schizophrenia or some other 'disease.' But even if she didn't, I still wouldn't feel right about telling anyone about it. It's something between me and Ryan. It's our time. No one else's.

Bam and I head down to the cafeteria where we gather our food and sit at our usual table in the corner by the window, where the sun shines and lights up everything outside.

"Are you gonna go to group today?" Bam asks before taking a bite of his eggs.

"No idea. I don't really feel like it. But I don't want to get in the habit of bottling my emotions and feelings up again." I reply, stirring my fork in the syrup that isn't on my French toast. After our fourth week being in rehab, and after we decided we would stay another month, they granted Bam and I the option to miss out on group if we wanted to. But talk time with our therapists is always when it is. We can't skip it. But we aren't forced to talk if we don't want to.

I pick the little sausage that is next to my French toast up and hold it out to Bam, who takes it gladly and takes bites of it in between eating the rest of his food.

"Well, you've been going almost everyday since we got here. I think it'd be okay to take a break every once in awhile." He says.

"Are you gonna go?"

He smiles at me and says, "I kind of have to. I'd feel better about it."

"Two more weeks, man. Then we're out of here." I say randomly, totally off the subject. "The first month went by fast, second month went by just as fast, this is going by pretty quick... Before you know it, it'll be the 19th and everybody will be waiting for us outside."

"I'm scared and excited at the same time."

"So am I. I... I kind of want to go to the cemetery on his anniversary." I admit, not looking up at him. Though I'm across the table from him, I can already feel him freeze. I quickly add, "You don't have to go if you don't want to."

"Ava, don't you think it's a little soon? You'd be out of rehab for only a day when the time comes. Don't you think you'd relapse just by visiting?"

My emotional strength since coming here has heightened profusely. I don't feel like I'd relapse if I did go. "I want to leave something there." I state, totally throwing away his question.

"Whatever it is, I think he'd like it." He tells me. I can hear a smile in his voice. I smile down at the table. "Do you want to go?"

He stays silent. I wait until he finally says, "Maybe. I'll fly to West Chester with you. But I'll have to think out actually going to the cemetery more."

"Ask your therapist what she thinks about you going. She has obviously helped you the past month and a half. She can help you with deciding that part out."

"You're right."

"I always am." I say sarcastically, giving him a cheesy smile and making us both chuckle.

It's announced by the group runner that group will be starting soon. I look at Bam. "I'm gonna go back to our room. I need to get some writing in."

I get up and throw my uneaten food away as I make my way back to the other end of the building to mine and Bam's room. My writing is just the basics; my feelings, how I'm doing, etc.

I pull my journal out from under my bed and the pen I keep in the drawer of the table between our beds. I open the journal and go to the next blank entry after my last entry. I position my hand over the paper and start writing.