Chapter Five | Avalon

Stormy grey eyes. Perfect chiseled muscles. A deep, rugged voice. I replay the image inside my head over and over again as I sip my coffee. The warm liquid soothes my throat, comforting me in a way.

Before I can stop myself, my mind wanders from Alexander to the elephant in the room: my cancer. I allow a sigh to escape and finish the entire mug of coffee. I’ve spent the last week wallowing in self-despair, and in less than two days, I have to go back to work and endure everybodys’ looks of pity. I groan internally.

“What’s wrong honey?” Mom’s sweet voice sounds from beside me. I glance over, realizing she’s sat right next to me now. I offer the best shrug I can.

“I’m just getting stuck in my head again. I have so many emotions coursing through me, and they’re all giving me whiplash,” I reply honestly. Mom reaches over and places a hand on my back.

“I know exactly what you mean. Sometimes life throws us curve balls and we have to learn how to not strike out,” she explains, earning a cynical glance from me.

“Did you really just use a baseball analogy to describe my sickness?” I quiz, earning a chuckle from Mom.

“What can I say… I’m so used to your Dad and his baseball lingo.”

Memories of Dad flood my mind suddenly, and my heart sinks. He passed away when I was only 20 years old. He was coming home late from work one night when a drunk driver hit him head-on. I can still feel Dad’s hand in mine as he laid in that hospital bed.

“Do you remember when we used to go to San Diego and spend all day on the beach? Your father insisted on buying you as many churros as you asked for,” Mom reminisces aloud. Now, a soft smile pulls up my lips.

“I loved those churros,” I remember. Mom lets out a sweet laugh.

“Loved is an understatement. That man would do anything to keep a smile on your face,” she says certainly. Sometimes, my heart feels both warm and cold talking about Dad. It’s like two battling currents right before the start of a tornado. “I’m terrified, Mom. I don’t know how to see the bright side of this,” I confess finally, nearly accompanying the words with a sob. Mom’s expression softens now and she pulls me in for a hug.

“Everything is going to be okay, my sweet girl. I promise.”

I know Mom’s promise doesn’t really hold much weight, but the thought still comforts me. I wipe away a tear hastily.

“Come on. Let’s have one of our famous movie marathons,” Mom suddenly suggests. My ears perk up right away.

“Okay, but they have to be cheesy horror films,” I bite back, earning a satisfied grin from Mom. She refills our coffee mugs while I browse Netflix. We settle on a decent selection and spend the afternoon giggling at the poor actors’ choices. In the middle of the third movie, Mom pauses it and turns toward me.

“You know what you should do?” she says enthusiastically. I cock one eyebrow, urging her to go on. “You should set up a dating profile and meet some eligible bachelors.”

My eyes widen at the idea. Me… on a dating app? I’ve always found myself musing at people who use Tinder and Bumble. Besides, didn’t I just get out of an agonizing four-year relationship? Then again, I have always wanted to experience true love.

“I don’t know… I mean I’m not exactly at a good point in my life to be dating,” I reply uncertainly. Mom waves off the words instantly.

“Avalon, this is the perfect time to date. You’re unsure about the future, and inevitably have to live in the present. Why shouldn’t you make the most of life and have a little fun?” she argues. I listen intently, trying to decipher Mom’s reasoning. In the end, she isn’t wrong. What do I have to lose?

I manage an excited smile and nod.

“Okay, you’re right. I’ll do it!”

Mom makes us some popcorn while I go through and pick out the best selfies from my camera roll. Then, Mom and I come up with the perfect bio - leaving out the sickness part, of course.

When everything is set up, I explain to her how it works.

“So, if I’m interested, I swipe right. If I’m not, I swipe left. If me and the guy both swipe right on each other, we match.”

Mom has a specific light in her eyes as she nods.

Butterflies fill the pit of my stomach, and without hesitation, I view the first person. His name is Evan, and he’s a mechanic at a local Automotive store. He’s 6’1 with auburn hair and green eyes.

“I don’t think he’s your type,” Mom says. I study his profile for a few more minutes before swiping left. The next eligible bachelor is Greg, a 25-year-old cat lover with hair almost longer than mine. The cats are cute, but I swipe left anyway.

Then, we come across Max, a 24-year-old law student with a love for Italian food. Before I can even make my decision, Mom reaches over and swipes right. I turn to her quickly, earning an innocent expression.

“He was too cute to pass up,” she justifies. I groan internally. Suddenly, this dating app is feeling too real. Right as I’m starting to second guess myself, my phone dings loudly. Both our eyes widen as we view the notification.

“You and Max have matched. Say hi!”

I nearly shriek with excitement, the adrenaline coursing through me in waves.

“What should I say?” I quiz, my mind racing for all the potential ice breakers.

“You should use a cheesy pickup line. Guys love that,” Mom says. I glance toward her momentarily.

“I don’t think that’s true,” I muse, receiving a chuckle from Mom.

In the little chat bar, I come up with my best line and press send, following Mom’s advice after all. Not even two minutes later, the phone dings again, and we race to check it.

I love a girl with a sense of humor. Drinks tomorrow night?

This time, Mom lets out a shriek and shakes me excitedly.

“Say yes, say yes, say yes!” she urges. I chuckle and type quickly, coming up with the perfect response.

I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Let’s do seven o’clock at the Bourbon and Branch Bar.

Deep down, I can’t decide if I’m more nervous to meet Max or see Alexander again. Nonetheless, a chill runs down my spine and I can’t stop smiling for the rest of the day.