Chapter 4- The Names We Keep
1586 Words
Ava
The call to Maya wasn’t easy.
Ava stared at the number for ten minutes before pressing the dial.
It rang twice. Then a voice—older, steadier than she remembered.
“Hello?”
“Maya,” Ava said. “It’s me.”
Silence.
“Aelia?”
“Yes.”
Another pause. Then a breath. “I thought you were dead.”
“I wasn’t,” Ava said. “Just gone.”
Maya didn’t speak.
“I need to ask you something,” Ava continued. “About the pack. About the twins.”
Maya’s voice was cautious. “Why now?”
“Because I’m remembering. And because Evergreen won’t tell me.”
Maya sighed. “Luca and Celie Moreno. They were quiet. Always together. Celie got sick. Luca disappeared after the vigil.”
Ava closed her eyes. “Do you know what happened?”
“No,” Maya said. “But Ruth said Kaleb was involved. She left town after that.”
Ava didn’t mention the report. Didn’t mention Elias.
And she didn’t mention her parents.
Jonathan and Marissa White.
She wasn’t ready.
Maya continued. “Jesse tried to find Luca. He went to Kaleb’s cabin. Never came back.”
Ava’s throat tightened. “You think Kaleb—”
“I don’t think,” Maya said. “I know.”
Ava didn’t ask how.
She thanked her. Hung up.
Then she wrote the names down.
Luca. Celie. Jesse. Ruth. Maya.
And herself.
Seven faces. One mural.
She stared at the list until her phone buzzed again.
Carson.
She hesitated. Then answered.
His voice was low. “I heard you’re back.”
“I am.”
“I need a favor.”
Ava waited.
“It’s about Emilia,” Carson said. “She’s not talking to anyone. Not even me.”
Ava’s chest tightened. “Why me?”
“Because she trusts you. Because you were the only one who didn’t leave her behind.”
Ava didn’t speak.
Carson continued. “She’s unraveling. And I can’t reach her.”
“I’ll try,” Ava said.
“Thank you.”
He hung up.
She stared at the phone.
Emilia. The girl who stitched Ava’s wounds in silence. The girl who never asked questions.
Ava would find her.
But not tonight.
Tonight, Ian had asked her to dinner.
She changed slowly. Jeans. Sweater. Nothing fancy.
They drove to a quiet diner outside town. Booth in the corner. Two plates. One candle.
Ian didn’t speak until dessert.
“She said the twins were Luca and Celie,” Ava said. “And Jesse went after Kaleb.”
Ian nodded. “And your parents?”
She shook her head. “Not yet.”
He didn’t press.
He reached into his jacket. Pulled out a small box.
Set it on the table.
Ava stared at it.
“I’m not asking now,” Ian said. “Not officially. Not until you’re ready.”
She opened the box.
Simple ring. Silver. No stone.
“I just want you to know,” he said. “That I’m here. That I’m not leaving. And that someday, if you want—”
She closed the box gently.
“I don’t know who I am yet,” she said.
“I do,” Ian said. “You’re Ava. You’re Aelia. You’re both.”
She didn’t cry.
She just reached for his hand.
Outside, the mural waited.
And so did the rest of the story.
Emilia didn’t answer the first call.
Or the second.
Ava didn’t leave a message. She just drove.
The house was still there. Same porch. Same wind chimes.
She knocked once.
Emilia opened the door slowly. Her eyes were tired. Her hair was pulled back.
She didn’t speak.
“I came because Carson asked,” Ava said.
Emilia stepped aside. Let her in.
The living room was dim. Blankets on the couch. A half-finished sketch on the table.
Ava sat down. Emilia stayed standing.
“He said you weren’t talking to anyone,” Ava said.
“I’m not,” Emilia said.
“You’re talking to me.”
Emilia looked away. “That’s different.”
Ava waited.
Emilia sat down. “I saw the mural. I saw your face.”
“I saw yours,” Ava said.
Emilia’s voice cracked. “I didn’t know if you were real.”
“I didn’t either.”
They sat in silence.
Then Emilia said, “Celie was my friend.”
Ava nodded. “I know.”
“She didn’t deserve what happened.”
“None of us did.”
Emilia looked at her. “Are you going to tell the cops?”
“I already did.”
Emilia didn’t speak.
Ava stood. “I’m not asking you to forgive anyone. I’m just asking you to remember.”
Emilia nodded. “I do.”
Ava left without hugging her.
Some friendships didn’t need closure.
They just needed the truth.
—
That night, Ava and Ian returned to the mural.
The ivy had been cleared. Lena had left a note: Add what you need.
Ava brought a marker.
She stood in front of the wall and began to write.
Luca Moreno.
Celie Moreno.
Jesse Alvarez.
Maya Lin.
Ruth Delgado.
Aelia White.
She paused.
Then added one more.
Emilia.
Ian stood behind her. Quiet.
She turned. “They’re not gone.”
He nodded. “They’re named.”
She pulled out the ring box. Opened it.
Held the ring in her palm.
“I’m not ready,” she said.
“I know,” Ian said.
“But I want to be.”
He smiled. “Then we wait.”
She closed the box.
The mural glowed in the streetlight.
Seven names. One truth.
She was never meant to be found.
But she was here.
And she was naming everything they tried to erase.
The studio smelled like paint and pine.
Lena was mixing colors when Ava walked in.
“I need to finish it,” Ava said.
Lena didn’t ask what. She just handed her a brush.
Ava climbed the ladder slowly. The mural stretched wide across the brick, each face waiting.
She dipped the brush in white.
Above Celie’s outline, she wrote:
Celie Moreno
Above Luca’s:
Luca Moreno
She paused at Jesse’s.
Then added:
Jesse Alvarez
The names weren’t perfect. The paint bled. The brick resisted.
But they stayed.
She climbed down. Lena handed her a rag.
“You remembered them,” Lena said.
“I didn’t,” Ava said. “But I’m trying.”
Lena nodded. “That’s enough.”
Ava left the studio and walked to the diner. Ian was already there.
He ordered her tea.
She sat down.
“I added the names,” she said.
“I know,” Ian said. “I saw.”
They didn’t speak for a while.
Then Ava said, “Carson called again.”
Ian raised an eyebrow.
“He wants me to talk to Emilia. Really talk. Not just show up.”
“Will you?”
“I think I have to.”
Ian reached into his pocket. Pulled out the ring box.
Set it on the table.
“I’m not asking,” he said. “Not yet.”
Ava opened it. Held the ring in her palm.
It wasn’t heavy.
But it felt like a choice.
“I don’t know what I want,” she said.
Ian nodded. “Then we wait.”
She closed the box.
Outside, the mural glowed in the streetlight.
Inside, Ava whispered the names again.
Not for closure.
For memory.
For truth.
For the ones who vanished.
And for the one who returned.
The mural was quiet at night.
No cars. No voices. Just the wind and the brick and the names Ava had written.
She stood in front of it, hands in her pockets, and read them aloud.
“Celie Moreno.”
“Luca Moreno.”
“Jesse Alvarez.”
“Maya Lin.”
“Ruth Delgado.”
“Emilia.”
“Aelia White.”
Her voice didn’t shake.
She didn’t cry.
She just spoke.
Behind her, Ian waited.
“You ready?” he asked.
“Not yet,” she said.
—
She visited Emilia the next morning.
No warning. No call. Just a knock.
Emilia opened the door slowly.
“I’m not here to ask anything,” Ava said. “I’m just here.”
Emilia stepped aside.
They sat on the porch. No tea. No small talk.
Emilia spoke first. “I used to dream about you. After you disappeared.”
Ava nodded.
“I thought maybe you’d come back with answers,” Emilia said. “But you didn’t.”
“I came back with names,” Ava said.
Emilia looked at her. “That’s enough.”
They didn’t hug.
They didn’t promise to stay in touch.
But when Ava left, Emilia whispered, “Thank you.”
—
That night, Ava and Ian drove out past the edge of town.
No buildings. No lights. Just stars.
They sat on the hood of the truck.
The ring box was between them.
Ava opened it. Held the ring in her palm.
“I don’t know what this means yet,” she said.
Ian nodded. “It doesn’t have to mean anything tonight.”
She looked at him. “But it does mean something.”
He smiled. “It means you’re here.”
She closed the box.
Set it beside her.
The stars blinked overhead.
And Ava whispered the names again.
Not for closure.
Not for comfort.
But because they were hers.
And she was ready to remember.
- Writer
