“It’s no big deal, we’ll make it back,” he reassured her quickly. “I… Should I have woken you up right away? I didn’t know, and you looked really tired, so I just couldn’t bother you.”
“No, no! I’m sorry. That’s so rude of me.” Weave that web. Oh crap, I was on his goddamn lap! Even if he’s the nicest guy alive, crap! Reaching for her purse, she slung it quickly over her shoulder.
“I don’t mind. I think I crashed out for a few minutes, too.” Andrew was shutting everything down, clicking buttons and tugging on his jacket as if nothing had happened. But something did happen – in her mind, anyway.
I fell asleep? But I can’t…
“Should I take any garbage?” she asked nervously.
“Nah, just grab the door?”
She obliged, holding it wide open as he deposited the pizza box into the bin across the hall. She watched as he locked the suite up, his hands steady and slow. No fear. She envied him that, envied the poise. It also reassured her. He’s not nervous or upset. Maybe he really thinks nothing of it?
He couldn’t begin to fathom the significance of this event. Nor did she want him to.
With a casual smile, he led the way down the side stairwell, backpack over his right shoulder. It slapped lightly against his back as he jogged down the steps, humming an unfamiliar tune to himself. She followed close behind, rubbing sleep from her eyes. Calm down. Friends don’t judge friends for falling asleep. But she judged herself, condemned her guard falling away, jugular laid bare.
“Ugh, here come the drunks!” Andrew said, gesturing across the quad.
A rowdy group of seniors – mostly male – were jostling each other, hooting and loudly singing what Autumn figured was supposed to be "Pumped Up Kicks", only the words had gone horribly awry. Andrew shifted position, moving to her left and thus wedging himself between the group and Autumn.
“From past experience, I’m going to suggest something that you can feel free to decline,” he whispered.
“What’s that?” she asked timidly.
“Let me hold your hand until I get you back to Ashbury. They’re out for female groping. I know these guys.” He stressed this last part, his brow furrowed in worry.
She knew these guys too – knew their kind. Without hesitation, she took his hand, fingers lacing between his and gripping him tightly.
“I think I’m glad we skipped this dance crap,” he grumbled, shaking his head as the group accosted two junior girls crossing at the opposite end of the quad. “And why didn’t they take an escort from the Safe Student program?”
His concern was genuine. His hand gripped hers a little tighter, his pace quickening as he cut a large swath around them, still making a fairly direct move towards her residence. One of the group glanced their way, whistling and jostling his friend. Her throat swelled in terror, but she managed a faint whisper.
“Arm around me?”
Andrew understood, immediately releasing her hand and throwing a protective arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him as they walked, chanting to herself. Leave us alone, leave us alone. For such a goddamn expensive school, where was security? The place should be crawling in guards, watching out for this crap.
“I hope Veronica’s okay.”
“Evan would kill those guys if they looked her way,” Andrew said firmly. “His ex, Jenny? This guy copped a feel once and tried a second time while she was screaming at him. Evan nearly broke his hand. Evan’s a chill guy, but if you hurt someone he cares about, run.”
Violence usually upset her, but self-defense was a whole other matter. Veronica was in good care, then. A glance behind them confirmed that the group had lost interest in her, moving on towards the other senior male residence.
“They’re gone.”
Immediately, Andrew’s arm fell away, but his hand found hers anew. “Just in case there’s another idiot brigade.”
It was a minute’s walk to the front doors of Ashbury, but she clung to him all the same, memories of predatory glances and false smiles haunting her mind. Better to be safe. And he was safe. Andrew was safe.
They broke apart as they stepped onto the well-lit steps, Autumn fumbling in her purse for her FOB. Andrew’s body relaxed instantly and it struck her then just how fearful he’d been for her. She remembered how he’d spoken of the group – how he’d stressed knowing them – and her stomach turned. They’re seriously bad news if he was that worked up. Good thing she hadn’t declined his escort.
“Thanks for hanging out with me,” he said quietly. “It was far more fun than working yet again on my film.”
“Thank you for inviting me. And for the brownies, even if they did put me in a sugar coma,” she added, trying to brush off her snoozing as something mundane.
“No problem. We’ll do it again sometime.”
“Sure.”
Silence. Seconds became hours, became minutes and seconds again. A part of her screamed inside, reaching out for warmth. I don’t want to say goodnight! Her other half questioned this voice’s sanity, disbelieving this weakness, this emotion welling up inside her.
“You have any plans tomorrow?” he asked abruptly.
Autumn hesitated. “Not sure. Veronica will probably want to talk my ear off at some point. Why?”
“I’ll be around, and I could use time away from homework. More Maury, maybe? Dinner? You’ve got to eat sometime.”
Icy fingers gripped her throat as another voice echoed him in her head. Dinner? You’ve got to eat sometime. It was what he had said, after the dance. The same day she’d learned that Fiona was in the hospital, not yet comprehending who she was: a twin in suffering. One more doll in his broken collection. She unwittingly flinched, edging up the steps.
He’s not him! But it was no use; the dam began to crumble beneath the weight.
“Autumn, what did I say?”
He looked so pained. Why was he wasting his time on her? Why did anyone bother?
“It’s not you,” she blurted out, desperately clinging to composure.
“Then what? I don’t understand.”
Wincing at his guilty face, she pinched her leg hard, shaking her head. “It’s a fucking ghost.” With a formless curse, she shook her head clear of his smiling face. “A ghost that won’t die.”
With this pathetic explanation, she bolted inside, storming up the stairs and pushing past clusters of gossiping girls in gowns, the roaring ocean in her skull crashing over and suffocating her. Her shoulder connected with a hapless bystander on the third floor as she rushed to her room, hand trembling as she jammed the key at the lock in desperation. It was coming: time fell away and colours swirled to reveal darkness incarnate inviting her inside its haven. She didn’t bother with the light, instead locking the door and throwing herself dizzily at her bed. Sobs shook her body as she clung to her pillow, feet kicking the bed in frustration as she spun and gasped for air.
Ativan. Pills. A hand fumbled in her purse as she bashed her head against the cool sheets. Come on come on come on… This was a bad one. She felt it coming, felt the air expel from her lungs in a whoosh, felt his fist connect again and again.
Under the tongue it went. Life preserver. Just like the song.
He knew. Her Andy knew. And for that, he couldn’t remain in her life. He would find him.
He would kill him.
Another ghost piped up, sobbing softly within the walls behind her. For once, it didn’t bother Autumn. A sad mutuality, they wept in unison until restless sleep claimed the living of the two.
EIGHTEEN
Oakville; November 17th, 2011
The phone was ringing. Again.
Exasperated, Autumn shoved her math homework aside and reached for her cell phone, ready to order Veronica to stop calling and just come upstairs instead if she needed constant support. Her eyes scarcely caught the caller ID before she hit answer – a good thing, too.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Hey sweetie! I know you’re probably busy, but I wanted to
confirm what time we should arrive on Saturday night.”
Saturday night: her reward for her progress in therapy. Emma had recently had a lengthy and, from what she’d been able to pick up between the lines, heated discussion with Headmistress Logan about lifting her campus restrictions sooner than ninety days. It was a matter of treatment, Emma had argued: Autumn was, in her mind, suffering from a severe anxiety disorder, amplified by the unfamiliar surroundings of Casteel and the sense of being caged that the restrictions created. For a better prognosis, Emma had recommended immediately lifting all restrictions. While Logan had refused, she had given up some ground: for the next three weeks, Autumn was free to go home for Saturday nights only, and full weekends thereafter, provided her grades and behaviour remained acceptable. A very small price to pay for time with her family.
“The show starts promptly at seven, so you’ll need to be here by six-thirty at the latest. The parking lot will probably get crazy near the theatre, so maybe six-fifteen?”
Veronica had her reasons for the non-stop calls: Spring Awakening opened that evening, running for four days and six shows, with the option to extend for another four the following week. Her parents were coming to see the show and taking her home with them afterwards. While her parents were fairly progressive, she hoped that the nudity didn’t unsettle them too much.
“Sounds good. Did you want us to bring you dinner? Apple cider?”
“Mom, I’m seventeen. I can eat all by myself now!” Autumn smiled. She missed her mother’s doting even though she feigned annoyance every time.
“Hey, you’re legally a minor until next year. I get to smother you at least until then after the thirty-seven hours of labour you put me through!” Her mother laughed, and Pandora squeaked in the background. “Your feline friend is very excited to see you, by the way. She knows you’re coming, somehow.”
“It’s not hard, Mom. You do the same crazed cleaning and baking every time I return from a trip. Pandora knows the routine. Anyway, I hate to be rude, but it’s opening night and I have to finish this stupid calculus before the show.”
“No problem. We’ll be there at six-fifteen Saturday night. I’ll call your cell when we’ve parked.”
A knock on the door jarred her – the rat-tat-tat of it a dead giveaway: Veronica. Crossing the room, she juggled her cell against her shoulder as she flipped the deadbolt.
“Give Dad and Pan hugs for me.” Her hand clamped over her friend’s as she opened the door, urging her silence. “Oh, and Mom?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“Grande Caramel Apple Spice and a ginger molasses cookie?”
Her mother chuckled knowingly. “Of course. Love you.”
“Love you too.” Hanging up, she released Veronica, who whirled around in a frenzy of silk skirt and long waves of golden hair. “And you! Calm down!”
Veronica shook her head furiously as she paced, the slapping sound of her steps drawing Autumn’s attention. She wasn’t even wearing shoes! Was this normal for her on opening nights?
“V, you’re freaking me out. I’m ten seconds from calling a nurse up here if you don’t sit down and tell me what’s wrong.”
Her friend sighed loudly, throwing herself onto the spare bed and tapping her foot violently against the wall. “I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. It’s just… I can’t find it!”
“Find what?”
Veronica bit her lip. “You’re going to think it’s crazy.”
Autumn kneeled beside her, smiling warmly. “Actresses have quirks. It’s what makes them great. What can’t you find?”
In a murmured hush, Veronica replied in a single stream of syllables: “Myluckybra.”
“Your lucky what?”
“My lucky bra! I can’t find it!” Veronica growled in frustration, kicking her foot against the bed frame. “I know it’s strange, but I always wear this one specific bra only on opening nights! I don’t wear it any other time, because I want it to last until my Broadway debut, if that ever happens. But it’s not in my drawers, and not in the closet, and not in my laundry. My mom says it isn’t at home, either!” Looking up at Autumn’s bewildered expression, she wailed, “See? You think I’m crazy!”
Autumn shook her head, struggling not to giggle. Veronica didn’t need a lucky charm to wow an audience. She was gifted with a voice and ability to slip into a role completely. But if this bra made her feel relaxed, they would have to try and find it.
“Okay, let’s start slowly: when did you last wear it?”
Veronica groaned. “I did a summer production of Hamlet. But Mom says it’s not there, or she’d drive it to me-”
“Not what I asked,” Autumn interrupted. “Do you remember packing it for school this year?”
“Yes! Or, I think I did. I know I had it out when preparing to pack. I’m in Drama! Ugh, I’m being so dramatic. Okay, think… Yes. I must have packed it.”
Autumn nodded. “Okay! Now, you checked Dora’s drawers too, just in case?”
Veronica nodded. “I did that before I called Mom. No luck. I even made her lift her top, in case she’d put it on.”
“Um, V? Dora’s a B-cup. You’re a D.”
Veronica shrugged. “Prank?”
“And you’re absolutely certain you never, ever wear it on any other day but an opening?” Autumn doubted this very much. Veronica was a bit scatterbrained at times. She sensed that if she went down to room 214, she’d find the bra lodged in the sleeve of a blouse.
“Look, I told you that I’m trying to keep it in good order! It’s the perfect bra for any costume. It’s cut to work with plunging necklines, scoops, strapless dresses, even keyhole – oh my God, Evan!” Veronica’s face turned crimson as she slapped her forehead. “The dance! My other bra I’d normally wear for that dress was dirty, so I put on my lucky one because I had no time to do laundry.”
Autumn grinned. “See? Is it stuck in the dress then?”
Veronica shook her head. “Um… it’s in Evan’s room?”
Autumn burst out laughing, her knees buckling. Even with the scarcity of free time in the last few weeks, Veronica and Evan had managed to become close. Yet she hadn’t even considered that her lingerie might be hiding in the room she’d snuck into after the dance. Nothing serious had happened – Veronica had told her they’d kissed and talked, and perhaps had a drink or few – but she had come back the next morning in Evan’s t-shirt and sweatpants, dress hidden under her arm.
“Oh, hush! Can I use your phone?”
Autumn passed it over, still giggling. “I look forward to Evan having to smuggle it over here in daylight!”
Veronica rolled her eyes. “Please! I’ll go to him and swap bras in his room… Evan! Hi! What… No, I’m getting ready, and having a crisis that I hope you can solve…. Okay, can you um… well… is my bra in your room?” Veronica flushed harder, smiling at whatever Evan had said. “Okay… Twenty? Done…. Hey! What kind of girl do you take me for? …Yes, yours. Bye.”
“Well?”
“Meeting him in Trudeau in twenty.” Veronica rose to her feet, breathing in and out deeply to steady herself.
“What was that ‘kind of girl’ business, hmm?”
“He, um… He said he kept it so he could buy me a set for Christmas and get the right size.”
“Oh my God!” Autumn’s ribs ached from laughter now.
“Hey! He said it was to match a dress! Mind out of gutter, wifey!” Veronica slapped her arm, shaking her head. “I’m going now, if you care.”
“That’s the funny part: Evan’s so sweet, he’s not even lying.” As Veronica threw open the door, she added, “Six-thirty backstage, right?”
“I suppose, if you’re not busy laughing.” Veronica feigned anger, but it was no use: she was just as amused.
“You’re welcome!”
The door slammed and Autumn rolled over, gasping for air. They were undoubtedly one of the cutest couples she’d ever seen, aside from her own parents. They talked a brave game, but ea
ch was shy, and both were hopeless romantics who had a tendency to go overboard with gifts. Veronica was already plotting to score one of the hotel rooms in the ACC that overlooked the ice for a Leafs game.
Glancing at her phone, she winced at the time. Only an hour left before she was due at the theatre, and she hadn’t eaten yet. Sorry, Jesus Calculus, your homework will just have to wait. With a spring in her step, she gathered her things for the showers. She had to look decent – after all, she was on stage tonight.
***
“Stage seating! Where are my stage seating VIPs?”
Lucas seemed ready to collapse as he rushed around, waving a clipboard at his actors and crew, only to pivot and suddenly recall the eight students who would be seated on stage. This was the third time he’d beckoned Autumn and the others, only to quickly dart off again as a light seemed crooked, or the guitar too muted alongside the drums. Professor Hurst was known for remaining hands-off on opening nights, instead holding a final cast circle in an adjoining classroom – primarily a chance to check-in, confess anxieties, and reassure each other. Veronica insisted it was a tremendous help, and they often sang a ridiculous song or two to shake off the inevitable jitters.
“Lucas?” Autumn decided that someone needed to step in, and for Veronica’s sake, she’d suck it up and do it.
“Huh? Yeah?”
“How about you tell me where you’d like the stage seating group to wait, and I’ll make sure they get there for you?”
Lucas smiled nervously, tapping his pen on the clipboard as he scanned the area. “Uh, yes… Okay, the cast will need to gather over there…. but they need to seat you first so… there. Yeah.” He waved to the side corridor that provided the main access from the front of the house to backstage.
“Got it. We’ll be there waiting to be seated at quarter to.”
“Yeah, quarter to seven. Seated before the cast.”
She ignored him, knowing that all efforts to communicate further were futile. She returned to the small group in front of the stage, her black dress swishing lightly around her knees.
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