by Eden Butler
“It’s okay, Joe. You can cry if you want to.”
He touches his fingertips to the headstone to stroke my mother’s picture. “She was so beautiful, was my Evelyn.” There is visible wetness under his thick eyelids, but he does not sob, does not openly weep.
I refrain from correcting him. She hadn’t been his Evelyn for a long time. It would be futile to remind him of that. He knows what he did. He knows the whys even if I don’t. In this moment, he mourns, experiencing all the emotions I have over the past five months, likely more of them. I can only imagine what it’s like to love someone so strongly that you commit your forever to them. I can only imagine what it is to create an entirely new person with the one you love, to see yourself and the one you love most in the world reflected in the skin and bone and soul of a baby. It must be overwhelming. It must be wonderful - or maybe it’s was none of those things for Joe. He did leave. He abandoned us and part of me has to believe that this raw emotion he’s experiencing now is coiled with a great amount of guilt.
I try to drive these morose thoughts from my mind. Whatever happened between my parents, I sense his love, his anguish and I see that the loss of her is very real and very sudden for him.
I move in next to Joe and take his hand again. “She…she never found anyone else, you know.” His eyes are glistening, small tracks of tears sliding over his cheeks. “She never really tried.” I watch him, curious. “What about you?”
He takes a breath and his fingers grip tight against mine. “I’ve never loved anyone or anything like I loved Evelyn. I didn’t want to leave, did I? I would have never left had I been given a choice.”
“What happened?” It was such a simple question, but it holds in its depth the weight of tomorrow. What if I didn’t believe him? What if his answer didn’t justify his leaving?
“I made a stupid mistake before I met your mother, sweetheart. One that she couldn’t forgive. One that I couldn’t make amends for.”
I think about asking more, desperate as I am to know the truth. But I hesitate and in those few seconds, the moment passes. Behind me I hear Ava calling my name. She and Sayo are approaching and already I can see the tears thick in their lashes. They join us and I receive their tight hugs. To my utter shock, Ava comes next to Joe, embraces him and they share a moment crying over my mother’s tombstone.
I think about my mother in that moment, about the way her hair felt like spun silk, about her laugh, deep and raspy, and the way she danced to old jazz records late at night when she thought I was asleep. For a second, remembering her, I don’t think about her last moments or her blood-covered face lying against the headrest of the car. I just remember her as she was—beautiful, brilliant and full of hope for me and for what tomorrow would bring. It’s those thoughts that I cling to as Joe and Ava’s sobs echo around the cemetery.
I was nineteen when my mother went on her first date in six years. It had been six years of her endlessly discovering new hobbies in an effort to pass the time. Six years of watching the faint wrinkles on her face deepen, of putting off her friends’ efforts to match make. Finally, when I’d completed the last track meet of my college career, my coach worked up the nerve to ask her out. Initially she refused, passing out excuses like a Kindergarten teacher doles out stickers. “Oh, no, thank you though, I’m just too busy.” Or, my favorite, “I couldn’t possibly, Autumn needs me to help her study for finals.” There had been many invitations that came her way, but each was declined, each not given a second thought.
Finally, she had been convinced. I asked her why she hadn’t dated, why she insisted on keeping to herself, avoiding men altogether. “I’ve been married once, Autumn, I don’t need to repeat that mistake.” Then she stopped, gawked at me as though someone else had taken control of her voice; someone else had forced her to speak.
“Did I really just say that?”
“You did, Mom.”
Despite everything Joe had put her through, the heartbreak, the betrayal, she’d always told me that having me had been the best thing to come out of her marriage. I was the light amid the fog, she said, the brilliant reward for every tear shed, every night spent crying alone in her bed. She said she’d do it all again, even knowing what the end result would be, if it meant having me as a daughter.
That night, she got up from our small kitchen table and called my coach to accept his offer. It didn’t lead to anything, none of her dates would, but she learned to step forward into the unknown. She risked more breaks in her heart because, in the end, even the very worst of them would yield something worth smiling about.
I wish I had her strength, her positive outlook.
I hold her picture in my hand, rub my finger against the high cheekbones and pointed chin of the black and white image wishing desperately that she was here. She’d tell me to take a chance. She’d tell me I was being silly, that Declan was a good man and that this date tonight might bring me at least one laugh, one memory to recall even if it lead nowhere else.
But she isn’t here. She can’t encourage me. She can’t tell me to stop sitting in my bedroom, alone in my underwear debating on whether or not I should bother getting dressed. She’d tell me to answer the door when Declan knocks.
Instead of my mother, it’s Sayo’s annoying banging that fractures the quiet of my apartment. I don’t bother to answer, but it isn’t like that will deter her. I should really move the extra key, but knowing my best friend as I do, she’d find it.
“You’re such a bitch,” Sayo says as she barrels into my bedroom.
I blink at her, grabbing my robe when she enters. “Well, yes, but why specifically now?”
“I was knocking, didn’t you hear me?”
Sighing, I prepare myself for the lecture I’m sure is coming. “I’m not going. I can’t.”
Sayo puts her hands on her hip and cocks her eyebrow up. She’s going to yell. She always yells when I say something she doesn’t like. But when she speaks, her voice is low, biting, yes, but she doesn’t scream at me.
“You lost a bet. If we lose the Dash, we’ll all be forced into the auction.” She sits next to me on the bed. “A date with Declan isn’t really a loss, Autumn.” I’m surprised that she’s not yelling, that her anger has, in fact, completely disappeared. “You like him.”
“I don’t want to.”
She wraps her arm around my shoulder and we let the silence fill the room. Everything I’ve endured, all the epic levels of crap, Sayo knows. Since we were teenagers, Sayo was the only person who knew everything about me. My accident, losing my mother, building this mammoth wall around my heart, Sayo is well informed on all of it. She’s my secret keeper.
“It won’t be so bad, you know.” She nudges me up and pulls her arm away from me. “He’s funny. He obviously likes you and most of all, Autumn, he isn’t Tucker.”
I can only manage to stare at her, searching her eyes for the truth, wishing that what she’s saying is more than a hope. I need a promise. “I know he’s not, Sayo. I know he’s nothing like Tucker.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“I don’t want it to get complicated.” I scoot back to rest against my headboard. “Tucker and I, God, it got bad.”
Sayo nods and I suspect she’s remembering the hundreds of times I’d called her at ridiculous hours, crying, sobbing, yelling about one fight or another Tucker and I had. She saw the darkness between us. She saw it when I refused to see anything but the fantasy of what I wanted our relationship to be.
She exhales, her shoulder coming down into a slouch. “It was bad, Autumn.” Her fingers are cupped together. “I was so scared for you when you were with him.”
“Why?”
“You know why.” Sayo turns toward me, pulling her knees to her chest. “Stable relationships aren’t filled with screams and shouts, not like that. They shouldn’t be about control and power. You know that now, but back then, God, Autumn, it was scary.”
The street light outside of my window flickers on
and the dull yellow light blinks in and out. I know Sayo hated me sometimes when I was with Tucker. She’d tell me over and over how unhealthy our relationship was. “Good boyfriends don’t keep you from your friends,” she’d say. Or “It’s not normal for boyfriends to demand to know where you are at all times or instigate fights when a guy smiles at his girlfriend. Tucker’s dangerous.”
“I know it got bad,” I say, still watching the window. “I let it get bad.” Finally I face Sayo again. “That’s what scares me about Declan. I don’t ever want to be that girl again and he makes me feel—” I close my eyes, taking a breath. “When I’m around him, just hanging out in the library or training, anytime, I get butterflies.”
“But that’s good. That’s normal.”
“Is it? I’m not so sure. I used to get butterflies with Tucker and then they turned into an all-consuming swarm. I don’t want a swarm, Sayo. I’m not sure if I want any of that, but Declan, he doesn’t give up. He doesn’t know what can happen. He doesn’t know how attached I can become. He also has these mid-century ideas about protecting me from the vile, loathsome Tucker Morrison.”
Sayo laughs. Before she can respond, my cell chirps with a text alert and I click on the message and instantly smile. Declan.
Wear something casual. And tight. And low cut. No, just something comfortable. #CantWaitToSnogYou
Sayo scoots next to me and stares down at the screen. “He’s funny.”
“He’s insufferable.”
“Yeah, but if you didn’t like him, you wouldn’t tolerate him.” I can’t disagree. I can’t seem to ignore the wild flutters in my stomach at his message. Sayo watches me reread the message. “Don’t think of the swarm. Not yet. Worry about the swarm later. For tonight, just have fun. Let yourself laugh. You haven’t done much of that lately, friend.”
I know she’s right, that I’m likely overthinking this one date with Declan. Still, my wall is held tight, warming the swift heat of the anger I can never seem to let go of. The anger that has been growing since the day Joe left. “I know you’re right,” I tell Sayo. “It’s just hard not to think about what happens next.” I grab her hand. “I really do like him.”
Sayo’s face shifts somewhere between a sad smile and a weak frown. “Then just like him. Don’t think about tomorrow. Enjoy tonight and let yourself laugh.” She stands, smoothes her jeans down her legs before she leaves my room. “And for the love of God, Autumn, let the guy kiss you. Let him kiss you a lot.” She walks out of my room and I hear her taunt echoing behind her. “God knows you could use it.”
TWELVE
Declan’s grin is much too wide. Smug already and this date hasn’t even started.
“Ms. Weasley,” he says and I instantly laugh.
“Mr. Potter.”
Halloween hadn’t met with Sayo’s expectations. We won the costume contest, but the victory didn’t extend to my friends. Declan and I secured the trophy as “Steampunk Harry and Ginny” and when the DJ announced the winners, my best friend’s face contorted into a near pink flush and her head landed on the table in defeat.
Declan returns my grin as my gaze scans up and down his large body. He looks far too good for a casual date. Dark jeans, those constant Chucks and a fitted, long sleeve green button up that narrows at the waist. He wears a thin leather jacket and a black hemp necklace that is tucked beneath his white undershirt. His hand rubs against the back of his head and I notice that he’s actually made an effort with his hair. It is short and styled with thick curls that lay against his forehead. He reclines against the doorframe with that too wide grin and a bundle of KitKats in his hand.
“Do you know how many carbs are in those things? Have you not seen my ass?”
“In fact, I have. It’s a lovely arse.”
My lips work into a disapproving line. “You want it to get bigger?”
“This is a test,” he says nodding toward the chocolate. “Will she pass or fail?”
Chocolate is my downfall. Always has been and as Declan waves the red-wrapped candy in front of me, taunting, teasing, my eyes slip closed and I manage to lift my chin, squashing away the desire to snatch the Kit Kats out of his hand. “It’s a nice gesture, but I can’t take the chocolate.”
From behind him he pulls out a huge bottle of Whey and Soy powdered protein shakes and I can’t help the smile that stretches my lips. “Oh, Declan!”
He laughs as I hug him, the vibration in his chest makes my arms tighten around his waist. He walks through the threshold of my door and he glances around my apartment. Setting the powder on the countertop, he eyes the wrapped assortment of cookies that I still haven’t managed to get rid of. He nods to them and I sigh.
“Go ahead,” I say. “You at least aren’t training like a maniac.”
He picks up a cookie from the platter and pops it in his mouth, his eyes slamming shut as he chews. “I think you missed your calling, McShane. These are brilliant.”
“My mom’s recipe. She was the best cook ever. Hence the ass I can’t seem to get rid of.”
The look he gives me isn’t gentlemanly. I guess my Mr. Books is gone forever. “Nothing to complain about, love.”
I disregard his lecherous stare and turn to pick up my bag. “So, where are we off to? I’d like to get this over with as painlessly as possible.”
When I turn around, he is standing in front of me. “Convinced that our little date will be a bore, are you?” I narrow my eyes at him, disbelieving, but he isn’t rebuffed. “Ever hear of a backwards date?”
“No.” I have no clue what he’s talking about, but then again, it’s been a long, long time since I was on a date. There could be new and varied discoveries that I’ve completely missed out on during my self-imposed celibacy.
“Ah, well, you simply start at the end and work your way back.” He takes my hand and walks me to the front door. I stand outside and pull it close at his nod. “Lock it.” Sighing, I do as he asks and cross my arms, waiting for his next bossy command. He presses against me, my back at the door, and his arm rests above my head. “Goodnight, McShane.”
I can’t help but smile. My fears of this date, of me liking him too much disappear as he edges in. He smells delicious, the lovely cedar, masculine smell but I tense when he hovers close to my face. “What are you—?”
“‘Night,’ I said.”
His face is inches from mine, his breath crosses over my forehead and already the butterflies have emerged, having their way, swirling in my stomach. When he remains silent I lick my dry lips and decide to heed Sayo’s advice. “Night, Declan.” Before I can close my mouth, his lips touch down, flick across my lips and I am overtaken by his smell, by the fearsome demand of his kiss. My shock prevents me from responding immediately, but when his freehand cups my cheek and his tongue glides against my lips, an uninhibited moan escapes my throat and I am powerless to stop him. His mouth is probing, firm and I relax against him, enjoying the feel of him melting me to the door. The kiss lingers and the unbidden thought of opening my door, making him come in, settles in my mind. Just as the idea pops into my head, he pulls away from me, stares at my mouth, then catches my eyes, the smirk returns and I feel heat race through my body.
“Backwards, you see. Goodnight kiss and now we revert.” One finger drifts across my forehead and his eyes follow the movement. “Besides, I never did get that kiss on Halloween, did I? I felt cheated.”
“That wasn’t a date.”
“This is.”
“Well, that’s an awfully impressive start. You think the rest of the night can compare?”
“I think I can manage. Come on, let’s go.”
The season has been a bit bipolar. We have shifted from cool to humid, to brisk and freezing and the flowers and trees haven’t quite turned gold. The crickets still chirp and the fish still shoot in and out of the river seeking fat insects to feast upon. Declan holds my hand as we walk near the lake. It is still, quiet, and only a few stragglers walk around it.
He direct
s me to an incline of rocks near the bank. In his hands, he holds a brown paper bag, but I don’t ask him what he’s planning. I’m trying my best not to overthink anything and though that is innately hard for a control freak like me, I have at least refrained from uttering a single question. Occasionally, he turns to check on me and throws me a smile. That expression always makes me nervous. It’s been my experience that when Declan wears that expression the result will be either a great swell of annoyance on my part or something truly inappropriate on his.
We come to a small embankment clustered with smooth, brown rocks. The lake isn’t deep, but it flows from the mountain and the water is clear and cold. I congratulate myself on wearing my Keds instead of wedges. The trek up here would have been ridiculously painful on my ankles.
Declan jumps down to the bank and sets his bag on a dry spot of the ground. He holds out his hand for me to grab and I take it, landing nearly on top of his feet. His Chuck’s are muddy from my inadvertent splatter of water and Declan shakes his foot to clean away most of the muck.
“Sorry,” I say and he nods, dismissing my apology.
When he rolls up his sleeves and squats down, fishing in the brown bag to retrieve two large mason jars, the tattoos become visible; all intricate and colorful and I don’t know what it is about seeing his skin marked up that makes my stomach twist, that has me moving my collar off my neck.
“At the end of the date, a bloke would want to take his lady to some place romantic, no?” He smiles at me, his head nodding toward the lake around us.
“I suppose. If he wanted to impress her.”
“He does, trust me.”
I am clueless, completely ignorant of what he’s planning when he unseals the lids from the jars. “Are you thirsty or something? I wouldn’t advise drinking the lake water.”
“Just wait.” He hands me a jar and the lid and nods for me to follow him down the bank. He squints across the lake and I watch him focus, concentrate on whatever it is he’s looking for until a bright light drifts in front of him and he slaps the lid onto the jar. “There now. Simple, isn’t it?” A small firefly bounces within the jar, bumping against the glass. “When I first came here, these little buggers were everywhere. We don’t have these creatures back home and, well, I like them.” Declan watches the bug bouncing around the jar, eyes focused and moving before he releases it. We both watch it zoom into the night, zipping from us into the black sky above. “Can you catch one, do you think?”