Fate''s Prologue On July 7 at precisely 9:01 p.m., a boundless, unforeseen storm claimed one life, two hearts, and six destinies. The Southern California skies had been a brilliant blue dappled with wispy threads of white. A warm, easy, splendid kind of day where you''d think nothing could go wrong. Ah, but one''s fate is not always built on solid ground. And wrong is always a question of perspective. Take, for example, the girl at the center of this tale, Ava Granados.
She is stubborn, quick-witted, was born into a mystical family, and, well, she thinks very little of me. Perhaps things would have been different for her if she had afforded me an ounce of respect. On this summer day, like most days prior, Ava woke early and suffered through SoulCycle with her older sister Carmen. Boring, routine, sweaty. She spent the afternoon making a Pinterest board with monochromatic bedroom ideas and ended up spiraling down a rabbit hole of DIY crafts for the tactically deficient, like tiny shoe pom-poms and rag wreaths. In two months'' time, she plans to begin her senior year and get a jump- start on college applications. Until then, she is committed to one thing: joyous boredom, much to her father''s consternation. He desperately wants her to go to college nearby and work for the family''s design firm.
Raul Granados is always ranting and raving with some version of "Mija, why write about the people doing great things when you can be the great one? Look at our firm, right there in Architectural Digest . Eh? Someone wrote about us ." He would poke his chest with his thumb as his face lit up brighter than the Virgen''s altar. Little does Ava know that in precisely five minutes and sixteen seconds, I will launch a lightning rod into her life. Death. Death always gets humans'' attention. Ava has always hated thinking about death in any capacity. When she was a child, she would pray for all the dead animals'' souls to go to heaven.
Then she began to include all the dead insects, because their ends always felt so untimely and unfair. She thought that the only thing those poor creatures had to look forward to was being squished under a shoe or flattened on a windshield. I almost pity her--hunched over a dim desk, reading the black-and-white memories of strangers. With no idea that her life is about to be derailed in a way she''ll never see coming. It is 8:16 p.m. now, and Ava is at the LA Times , organizing digital archives. It is her ideal summer internship: words, spines, photographs, paper.
An introvert''s paradise. Fifty-nine seconds to go. Ava leans over her messy worktable and scans a 1959 photo of some young guy carrying a banner that says marry me. No name, no other descriptors. A seemingly innocuous object. Or is it? She, of course, does not yet realize its significance. She merely looks at the date and thinks it is ironic that it is the same as today. Oh, humans.
She wonders, Did she say yes or no? And this is all I need to strike the match. One Ava''s cell phone buzzed, and a clap of thunder vibrated her bones. She reached for her phone, turned it over to see her sister''s name on the screen. "Hey, Carm." Lightning lit up the night sky in great unpredictable flashes. The wind howled violently. Carmen''s garbled voice was swallowed by static and unceasing gales. Then, in a voice heavy with urgency, "Ava!" The call was lost.
There was a moment of silence, stillness, nothingness. It was as if the universe had paused to take a breath and ask, What are you going to do now, Ava Granados? A long shiver crawled up Ava''s legs, and in the space of a single thought, Something is wrong , her phone lit up again. The single buzz prompted the sky to split open and unleash a torrent like Ava had never seen or heard. "Carmen?" Ava couldn''t control the tremble in her voice. "Is everything okay?" "Where are you?" Carmen demanded. A peal of thunder. "My internship." "This late?" "Trying to impress the boss.
Where are you?" "That doesn''t matter." "Then why''d you ask me?" "Why do you always have to be so immature?" Carmen was twenty, three years older than Ava, but she acted like she was everyone''s mother. She had an opinion about everything under the sun--an opinion no one could count on because it was likely to change by the next moon. Rain pounded the roof. Lights flickered. The very air seemed to sizzle with an ominous energy that set Ava on edge. "It''s Nana," Carmen said. "Dad says this is it .
as in . the end." "Is he sure this time?" Ava''s heart crawled up her throat. "I mean, Nana''s been on her deathbed five times this month alone." "Yes, pendeja! But I''m in the middle of a gel fill, and I don''t know if I should leave or not." Lightning flashed. Then again. The rain came faster, harder.
More determined than before. "Seriously?" Ava chided. "If this really is the end, who cares about your nails!" "I do! And remember the last time I was at the salon? I was still processing my highlights, ran out, and ended up looking like a fried version of J. Lo? But you''re right ." She took a breath. "This is Nana. How could she leave us like this? Hang on," Carmen was gone for a moment, and when she returned, their oldest sister, Vivienne, had been looped into the call. "Are you on your way, Ava?" Vivienne asked.
"Carmen just called a minute ago," Ava grumbled as she began to make piles of the photographs and notes on her desk. "How can I be on my way?" She lowered her voice, remembering the cubicles around her were filledwith nosy people probably looking for a welcome distraction. "That''s a minute you''ve wasted on the phone because you don''t move fast enough, and that''s why you''re late everywhere!" Vivienne nearly shouted. "Hey!" Ava argued, accidentally knocking a few photos and documents onto the floor. She quickly retrieved them and tossed them back onto her desk as she headed toward the exit, past the roving eyes of her coworkers. "I was at the last seven deathbeds. You were only at three." "What does it matter?" Carmen groaned.
"Nana didn''t die all those times, so no one missed the blessing !" She hollered the last word, as if any of them could forget what Nana''s death really meant. "And I need my blessing," Vivienne reminded her. "Like, bad." Twenty-two-year-old Vivienne worried she would never find Prince Charming. Ava worried, too, but not because her sister wasn''t beautiful or smart or a newly minted architect who was also the most talented designer at the family''s firm. Viv was . Viv. Hard-hitting, stubborn, picky.
She''d probably demand a résumé before a first date. "Same," Carmen chimed in. "I just hope I get something really good." "Is that all you guys care about?" Ava said, her heart sinking. "As if you haven''t thought about it," Carmen accused. "And she''s the one leaving us!" It was so Carmen to make this about her. It was also so Carmen to deflect to ease the pain. The lights flashed once, then croaked, plunging Ava and the entire office into total darkness.
Groans rose up. Quickly, Ava turned on her phone flashlight. "I have to go," she said. " No! " Vivienne shouted. "You can''t drive in this storm. Are you crazy?" "You just said--" "Forget what I said," Vivienne argued. "It''s getting worse. Dad just came in.
He told me to tell you to stay where you are or he''ll take your car away." "She''s right," Carmen agreed half-heartedly. Ava asked Carmen, "Well, how come you can drive home?" "I''m at the salon, point five miles away," she countered. "You''re all the way downtown. This thing came out of nowhere, and it''s too dangerous. No blessing is worth your life, Ava." Then, "Hey, you think Nana will give me yours too?" She was joking of course, because Nana had made the fine print clear--only one blessing per person. All the women in the Granados family had this keen, odd, otherworldly ability to pass along blessings to their female descendants.
But here was the catch: they could only do so from their deathbeds. And if they died suddenly? Tough luck. Ava''s great-grandmother had graced Nana with an angel''s voice. Before that, Nana couldn''t even sing off-key. Ava''s dad always said Nana used to sound like a dying cat in a Tijuana alley. And after the deathbed blessing? It was like listening to a Mexican Pavarotti when she opened her mouth to sing. Ava rolled her eyes. "You joke at the worst times, Carm.
" "Who''s joking?" "I don''t care what you say. I''m coming," Ava insisted. In her mind''s eye, Ava saw Nana lying in her linen-draped bed, wearing the gold bracelet she wore every day, saying only that it came from Fate. She remembered the long walks down the shore--always in the evening, because Nana loved the nighttime best. Ava set her jaw. Blessing or no, she wasn''t letting Nana take her last breath without her. Yes, she was curious about the blessing her grandmother had chosen for her. She had begged her to tell her about it, but Nana had only said, "I won''t know until the moment is upon us.
" Pushing through the double doors, Ava''s heart rate began to rise. What if Carmen is right? What if this really is it and not a death rehearsal? The lights flicked back on as Ava came to her boss''s office at the end of the hall. Drawing nearer, she saw him stacking another World War II book on the bookcase. The guy is obsessed with warfare , Ava thou.