Chapter 36 Autumn
Autumn
Moms are so special. They have a superpower that should really be studied more.
I thought I was getting away with it the last couple of months, pretending everything is good. Pretending nothing is wrong. But it isn’t good, something is wrong, and the more time that passes, the more upset I get. And here she sits on the porch staring at me, waiting for me to tell her the truth.
“I know when something is wrong with my only child.” She insists.
I stare across the yard, folding my cardigan tightly across my chest. Has October finally brought the cold, or do I just have the anxious chills?
I don’t want to admit any of this to my mom, of all people, but I’m not coming up with a lie quick enough.
She taps her fingers on the patio chair, impatient.
“I don’t really want to tell you, Mom. I messed up.”
She scoffs. “Unless you hid a body in my house without my permission, I don’t care what you did. Fess up.”
I let out a tiny laugh, realizing she’s gone insane. “It’s Jimmy.”
“Jimmy? Your friend Jimmy? What’s the matter?”
I cock my head to the side and glare at her, hoping she’ll read it in my eyes. I still can’t say it out loud. She stares back for a few seconds until her eyes finally expand with realization.
“Oh.” She says, followed by a louder, more pronounced “OH!” confirming she put the gist of it together.
“Yeah” is all I can say as I continue to stare into the yard.
“Hmph,” she starts. “Did you guys not try this enough in high school?”
“MOM!” I exclaim.
I can’t believe she said that. I can’t believe she thought that. I’m too stunned to speak, so she does.
“I’m just saying. I thought this was old news.” She says, as matter-of-factly as possible.
“How many times do you think we…” I stop and shake my head. “You know what, never mind.”
“Honey, stop getting so defensive. I’m your mother. I’m just saying that I wasn’t stupid, for one, and that I thought you guys moved past this.”
“So did I.” Even though I know I never did.
“You know this is wrong, right?”
“Yeah, Mom.” The roll of my eyes transports me right back to my teenage years on this porch.
“So, what happened?” I look at her, confused. She asks again. “Tell me what happened. How did you get here? I want to hear about it.”
I continue to look at her questioningly, but she nods for me to go on.
I guess I have no choice but to finally say it out loud after all.
I take a deep breath and tell her everything from prom to me leaving, to us reuniting, to Becca finding out, to the last time I saw him, to Becca confronting Kory.
She sits quietly for a minute, taking it all in.
“No wonder I got kicked out of my book club.”
“MOM!” I yell at her again, but she is laughing.
“Oh, lighten up. I am messing with you. I missed out on years of these conversations with you. Cut me some slack here.” She pauses. “I would never join a book club.”
We both laugh. I do appreciate her sense of humor now. I don’t remember her being this funny before.
“Well…” she starts, “What do you want to happen?”
I’m surprised she asks me this. I expected a lecture about all the reasons I already know I’m wrong. I think for a minute as a tear slides into the corner of my mouth. “I want him to love me, Mom. The way I’ve always loved him.”
She nods, and I wipe the twin of the first tear off my other cheek. “You said that he admitted he loves you too, no?”
“Yeah, he said it, but I’m still sitting on this porch crying. It’s been two months since it came out, and he still ‘doesn’t know.' I haven’t seen him in like a month, and we’ve barely even spoken.”
We’re both quiet. I continue staring ahead into the yard, watching the squirrels desperately trying to find every last piece of food for winter.
They dart in and out of traffic, lucky to make it to the other side.
It’s the time of year when many of them meet their end by car, too impulsive to watch where they’re going. Kind of like what I’ve done to myself.
I keep talking. “And even that doesn’t make sense.
The last day we were together was so good, Mom.
It was the first time we got to be together truly like old times.
But better. We were together. We didn’t have to worry about who knows, because everyone already does.
We went out to eat, we went to a movie, and then went for a walk through the park holding hands.
It was all so normal, but then practically nothing.
Why hasn’t he tried to see me again? If he loved me the way I love him, I wouldn’t still be alone and waiting. ”
She nods again. “It sounds like you already know what you need to know.”
I look down and swallow the lump in my throat. She keeps talking.
“I hope you get everything you want, honey. I want you to be happy, no matter what that looks like, but this isn’t an easy situation. One that doesn’t usually work out well for the ‘other’ one. I hate to say this, but you need to prepare for the worst.”
I nod as I listen, further appreciating the lack of lecturing in this moment.
“I wish you had told me some of this back then.” She says.
The tone of her voice changes. It’s not light and funny anymore. It’s quiet and sad, and suddenly I feel like crap. Not because I just admitted to being in love with a married man, but because I realize that she realizes that we lost all that time together over a boy.
I get up and sit on her lap like a kid, pulling her into a hug. “I’m sorry, Mom.”
She hugs me back tightly, and I hear her sniffle. Mine echoes hers.
“I’m sorry too. You deserve so much love, Autumn. But you deserve to be loved proudly. Do what you feel you need to do, but please don’t forget that.”
I honestly don’t know what I need to do, nor do I know what to say. I just enjoy this quiet moment as a grown woman crying in my mother’s arms.
Eventually, I free my mom from the weight of my body and emotions.
We don’t talk about it anymore. She moves on to preparing dinner, and I go to my old room.
It’s finally stayed different, officially no longer my room.
There’s a gaping hole in the middle where my bed used to be.
A few boxes I don’t recognize have gathered instead, appearing to make this a new storage room.
I go over to the closet and pull out the note box.
I don’t know why I didn’t bring it with me to my apartment.
I guess I feel like it belongs here. After planting myself on the floor, I dump them all out on the floor and spread them out, looking for one in particular.
One I wrote, disguised on the outside as being from someone else, in case it was ever found.
It doesn’t take long to find it, two hearts filled in with glitter gel pen.
One silver for April, his birthstone, and one red for January, mine.
I probably shouldn’t read this right now, but I open it anyway. I’m pretty sure this was the last note I ever wrote, on the morning of my graduation.
Dear Jimmy,
I’m moving. I wanted you to be the first to know. My family’s not moving. Just me. I’m not going to Grand Valley. I’m going to the University of Wisconsin. Yes Wisconsin. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before, and I’m sorry for lying for the last few months, but I have decided. I’m going.
I can’t go to GV because I don’t want to be your friend anymore. I can’t be. I think I love you, and I know you don’t love me back. I don’t think I’m mad at you for that, but I don’t want to pretend anymore. And I can’t be around you and not be your friend, so I’m leaving.
Actually, I think I am a little mad. Why did you sleep with me after prom if you didn’t like me like that?
Why you had sex with me is a question in itself, but that’s probably an easier answer.
But why did you sleep with me? All the space available in the lakehouse, why did you sleep in the bed with me?
Why did you wrap your arms around me and hold me until we were asleep?
Why did you kiss the back of my neck? Maybe you thought I was sleeping, but you still did it, and I remember.
I felt like it was special, and you just didn’t seem to care.
Why couldn’t you even acknowledge it the next day?
I was fine not talking about it that night because it was a long day, and a long night, and we both know I was ready to sleep.
But you didn’t even say good morning. You didn’t even talk to me.
You practically acted like I didn’t exist.
I don’t understand. Then two days later, you were talking about another girl, and I had to pretend it didn’t hurt my feelings.
It sucks because you know you are my best friend. You always have been, and I thought you always would be, but I can’t anymore.
I’m sorry if I’m the one who messed this up by wanting more, but I do, so I can’t be your friend anymore. I probably sound crazy, and now that I’m writing this, I don’t even know if I’m going to give it to you. I probably shouldn’t.
Anyways. I hope I do because I hope you like me more, too, but I think I’m too scared to find out you definitely don’t. I hope you don’t hate me for leaving.
Love your best friend,
Autumn.
One lonely tear hits the page. I fold it back up before anymore of the ink smears. I know I never actually planned to give this to him. I wrote it for myself, to remind myself why I was leaving.
The letter reeks of desperate teenage turmoil, yet I still have all the same feelings. I wish I could tell this younger version of me that it got better, that it all worked out, and that she still had her best friend.
But it didn’t, and despite her valiant effort, it actually got exponentially worse.