Forever Autumn

by Christopher Scott Wagoner

  “That sounds awesome,” said Steve, his stomach rumbling. He looked over at Autumn, who seemed ambivalent. “What do you think?”

  “I don’t know. I’m a little tired. I might just stay here and take a nap.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure. I ate before I left work. It’s fine. Go spend some time with your sister.”

  She moved up to him, kissing him lightly on the cheek. “I’ll be wide awake when you get back,” she whispered in his ear.

  Steve’s cheeks reddened as she giggled. He missed Susan’s rueful head shake at the gesture.

  “C’mon, bro,” she said, tugging on his arm, “let’s try and beat the dinner rush.”

  “Be back soon,” said Steve as he was about to shut the door. “I love you.”

  Autumn sighed and sat down heavily on a kitchen chair, staring into her folded hands.

  Steve and his sister rode in relative silence, the neon lights of the city slipping past them, painting their somber faces with pastels that belied the dark turmoil boiling beneath the surface. The interior of the cab had a strange energy, like the air just before a thunderstorm.

  They were seated by a stout, acne-plagued young woman once they reached the restaurant. Steve asked for a seat near the bar, drawing a narrow-eyed glare from Susan.

  “So,” he said after they had sat on the comfortable vinyl seats, “alone at last. Are you ready to give me a hard time about Autumn or would you like to wait until after the appetizer?”

  She glared at him, taking her water glass in both hands. After taking a long sip she composed herself, setting the glass down with a heavy thunk.

  “I’m not allowed to care about my brother?”

  Steve sat back against the cushion and sighed. “Of course you are.”

  “Well,” said Susan, twirling the cubes in her glass around idly, “part of caring about someone is telling them when they’re making a mistake. And you’re making a big mistake, bro.”

  “Oh, come on.” Steve leaned forward on his elbows and fixed his blue eyes squarely on her. “You barely know Autumn.”

  “I know her type. You’re a nice guy, Steve, and women like her can tell that. She needs someone to take care of her—”

  Steve rolled his eyes and threw his hands in the air.

  “—and for a little while, that somebody is gonna be you,” she continued despite his display. “But only for a little while, Steve. Sooner or later she’ll find a guy who plays guitar, or deals heroin, or runs in a biker gang, and she’ll be gone. Just like that.”

  “I didn’t know you could tell the future. If you’re that clairvoyant, why not tell me the lottery numbers for tomorrow?”

  “She’s already moved in,” said Susan with vehemence. “How long have you been dating? Two months, tops?”

  “She got kicked out of her place,” Steve said wearily. “Her roommate was a dipshit.”

  “Did you ever see this ‘roommate’ of hers? Because if you didn’t, it was probably her boyfriend.”

  Steve stood up, startling the waitress who was coming by for their order. He headed for the exit, past happy couples, boisterous families, and busy servers.

  Susan ran after him, pulling on his arm as he strode angrily down the sidewalk. “Steve, wait! I’m sorry.”

  He stopped, but did not look at her. Instead he stared hard at the cracked concrete at his feet.

  “I shouldn’t have shot my mouth off like that.”

  “You’re wrong about her,” said Steve with tight lips that trembled slightly when he spoke.

  “Steve, she’s hiding something. I don’t know what, but she’s hiding something.”

  “I know. I get that feeling too, but…”

  “But you love her,” said Susan, rubbing his shoulder.

  He nodded, blinking rapidly. “She makes me feel okay about being me. And I’d like to think I make her feel okay about being her. Isn’t that what love is? Accepting someone for what they are, then standing by them no matter what? Because if it’s not, then I’m not sure I would want anything to do with it.”

  “Oh, come on, Steve, you think you love her because you’re lonely. What do you really have in common with this woman?”

  “We laugh a lot,” he said, his eyes growing narrow as his mouth twitched. “Neither one of us is big on going out on the town, we’d rather just…be. I can’t explain it in a way you’d understand.”

  “You sound like a fresh-on-the-rag suburban princess writing a letter to Seventeen.”

  “You know what?” he said indignantly, drawing himself up to his full height, “you might be right. Maybe she just wants to be with me because I have a decent job and a place to live. Isn’t that what women do? Don’t they look for someone to be the breadwinner? That’s just a feminine instinct, like hating your best friend.”

  “That’s a load of shit,” she said, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

  “Oh, is it? Then why are women always going on about landing a doctor? What is it you posted on Facebook about that Daniel guy who was so into you? ‘I don’t want no broke-ass motherfucker’? I do believe that was the precise phrasing you used.”

  “That was just a goof.”

  “So what if my job, if my position in the social-economic strata has something to do with her attraction to me? That can’t be all there is to it. Autumn is hot as hell. She could go wiggle her big tits at some investment banker who’s into goth and emo chicks and have a free ride. But she chose me. Seven billion motherfuckers on this planet, and she chose me. That’s got to count for something.”

  “Where are you going?” Susan asked as he turned away from her.

  “I’m going home. I don’t have an appetite anymore.”

  “Steve,” said Susan plaintively. “Steve…”

  He waved his arm at a passing taxi, boarding without a backward glance.

  When he slid his key into the door of his apartment, it opened up unbidden. Autumn stood in the door, a prickly grin on her lovely face. She opened the door and moved aside, revealing that his apartment was in the process of being cleaned. His haphazardly arranged kitchen gear was now neatly shelved, the counters bare and clean. The vacuum sat on the rug, its cord dragged out over the floor.

  “Wow,” he said, his dark mood partially dismissed.

  “Wow, nothing. I barely had time to get started.”

  “Why did you do this?”

  “I wanted to earn my keep.” Autumn chewed on her lower lip. “Sorry it’s not done yet.”

  “You didn’t have to do this.” Steve shut the door and locked it.

  “So,” said Autumn as he turned around, “did your sister tell you I was just using you, or did she bring out the big guns and call me a whore?”

  Steve sighed, walked over to one of the wooden chairs and sat down in it, holding his head in his hands. “I don’t want you two to hate each other, but if she asks me to choose, she’s going to be very disappointed.”

  “Don’t say that. I don’t want to get between you and your sister. I’m not worth all that.”

  He reached out, awkwardly grasping with his hand. She took it in her own and squeezed it.

  “You are worth all that,” he said, kissing her hand. “I love you.”

  She leaned in close to him, putting his head against her belly. Her fingers stroked his long hair as he felt her breathing and heartbeat warm against his ear.

  “I love you. Very much. The worst thing about getting kicked out of my apartment is that now you’re going to doubt that.”

  He pulled away slightly, so he could look up into her large eyes. Steve wasn’t sure if he could believe in souls, but the warmth, the depth of character that seemed reflected in her soft brown orbs made him feel luminous in spirit.

  “I don’t doubt it, and I’m secretly really, really happy that you got kicked out. Don’t take that the wrong way.”

  She smiled, holding his head to her stomach again. She leaned her head forward and kissed him softly on top of h
is head.

  “I’m going to order some Jimmy John’s,” she said into his hair, “because I can hear your belly rumbling, and open up a bottle of champagne that my roommate seems to have misplaced—”

  He chuckled, the vibrations tickling her belly.

  “—and then we’re going to bed,” she said, stroking both hands through his hair.

  “Are you tired?” He ran his palm along the small of her back.

  “Nope. Not a bit.”

  Chapter 10

  PHIL SAT WITH HIS CHIN cupped in one hand, eyes struggling to stay open. He was seated near the front end of the long meeting table, meaning he was unable to pass the time by sketching as he so often did. His boss continued to drone on cheerfully, seemingly unaware of the numerous glassy stares pointed in his direction.

  He lazily raised his gaze to the sleek clock hung on the wall. It was half past four, long past the meeting’s supposed end time of three forty-five. He sighed and straightened up in his padded seat, actually tuning in his boss’s voice in hopes of discovering the end was near.

  “…and I hope that on this winter holiday, you’ll remember those Vickers and Sons’ employees who regrettably lost their positions due to restructuring and give generously to the Salvation Army and other charities,” he said with what he probably thought of as a sad smile on his face. To Phil, it seemed more like a smirk. “Now, if there’s no other business?”

  Phil felt as if he would jump up and throttle anyone who dared to raise their voice, but the other people in the room seemed just as grateful to be done with the whole affair.

  “No? Very well, I wish you and yours a very Merry Christmas.”

  “Merry Christmas,” said Phil and the half dozen other coworkers who had retained their consciousness. The meeting room was suddenly abuzz with noise and activity as people gathered their things and prepared to leave for the long weekend. Phil noticed Rich’s approach and managed to smile at the man, so glad was he to be done with the meeting.

  “Sup, loser?” he said, punching Phil in the arm.

  “What’s up, Rich?” Phil rubbed his arm.

  “You ever tag that sweet half-Asian ass?”

  “Why do you care so much?”

  “That’s a no. C’mon, what’s the deal?”

  “We’re both busy.” Phil walked toward his cubicle. Rich followed unbidden. “I’m here forty-five to fifty hours every week, on Saturdays we game, and then have band practice. On Sundays, her family lays claim to her on account of them being über-religious.”

  “You need to make time. Nasty time. You ever consider playing nookie-hookie?”

  Phil rolled his eyes. “I’m afraid of the answer I’ll get, but what is that?”

  “It’s when you blow off work so you can get blown. Call off so you can get off. Tell your boss to suck it and Ellie the same thing!”

  Phil sighed in exasperation as he gathered up a stack of folders and secured them in his briefcase. “Tonight’s only the fourth time we’ve officially gone out on a date.”

  Rich’s eyes went wide, and he clapped Phil hard on the shoulder. “No fucking way. Then you better stop for some rubbers.”

  “Why?” Phil walked away from his cubicle and Rich.

  The other man jogged to catch up with him. “Don’t you know the cardinal rules of dating? No matter what, the fourth date ends in sex!”

  “An irrefutable fact, no doubt.”

  The two of them waited for the elevator to arrive.

  Rich shrugged innocently. “I don’t write the rules.”

  “What about those hyper-Christian people, the ones with purity rings?”

  Rich’s brow furrowed and he let out a snort. “They still have sex, just up the poop chute.”

  “Then what about Steve and Autumn? They sealed the deal, as you put it, after just one night.”

  “Autumn’s kind of a slut.”

  “You’d better watch your mouth around Steve. Besides, you’re just mad because she blew you off when you tried hitting on her.”

  Rich’s face was covered with a grin, but his eyes mocked Phil. “I’m not scared of a man whose daddy is a fake wrestler, and I wasn’t really hitting on her. I was just checking to see if she was gonna be loyal to Steve.”

  “And when she was, you got butt hurt. And Steve’s dad might engage in fake fighting, but Steve has had to fight his whole life.”

  “Why is that?”

  The elevator arrived at the ground floor and the metallic doors slid open. They exited the car and headed for the street.

  “Because everyone was always giving him shit about his dad being a phony. Plus, he’s two of you, as far as size goes.”

  “Eh, the bigger they are…”

  “The harder they hit. If you doubt me, try and mess with him some time. You’ll see.”

  The two men parted company at the front door, Phil turning toward Grand Central, while Rich made his way to the company parking garage. While he was waiting for a train, Phil withdrew his smart phone from his jacket pocket. The night was chilly, but he had found a good spot next to a heat register, the warm wind tousling his hair. When his fingers had stopped shivering he sent a text to Crawley.

  Looking forward to tonight. -P

  Her response came almost immediately.

  Me 2. Want to come by here first? -C

  Phil winced, images of giant, hairy legs and multiple eyes rising up in his mind.

  Okay. –P

  His stomach flipped and flopped at the prospect of another close encounter of the arachnid kind.

  Awesome :) -C

  Phil sighed and held his head in his hands. When he had told Rex and Steve of his adventure in the Crawley living room, they had been predictably snide about it. Steve refused to take it seriously, while Rex thought shock therapy might be useful and had dropped a live, tiny spider on Phil’s head.

  Though he was afraid of the eight-legged denizens of the Crawley household, he found that his excitement was greater. He tried to ignore the comments Rich had made, but he found himself wondering whether it had some kernel of truth to it. Certainly, he and Crawley had engaged in spirited make-out sessions in her car, in the elevator to his building, and the sofa in her parents’ house. He couldn’t help but wonder if she thought he was weird because he had not tried to take things further.

  He spent most of the ride home worrying about it. It did not help that his one prior sexual experience was some seven years past, when he had been a senior in high school. Despite an eager and willing young woman who had consented to be his prom date, he found himself unable to perform. She had been nice about it, not plastering his name all over social media, but often a gaggle of girls had see him in the hallway and giggle, and his blood had boiled with utter certainty that everyone secretly knew of his failure as a man.

  After he arrived home, he went through the motions of preparing for the date. He felt ridiculous, as if all the hair gel and cologne in the world could not erase his shame. Nevertheless, he presented a dapper image when he exited his apartment a short while later. He had chosen a dark brown pair of dress pants, nearly black. A long-sleeved, peach button-down shirt was tucked neatly into his trousers.

  Crawley’s house was not far from the nearest train station, but he still found himself chilled to the bone by the time he rapped upon her white-washed door. In a moment the peephole darkened, heralding the door opening.

  “Phillip,” said Crawley, a wide smile on her face. “Come on in, you must be cold!”

  He entered the living room, carefully wiping his feet first. Crawley’s fingers moved gently along his sleeve, helping him take off is coat. She was wearing a pair of jeans so tight Phil wondered if she would be able to bend her knees in them. A V-neck sweater was worn over a white embroidered camisole, showing a small amount of her modest cleavage. Her hair had been brushed out straight and cascaded down her back like a silk blanket. Light red lipstick was complimented by blush and smoky eye shadow. A pair of earrings in the shape of spider
s dangled from her ear lobes.

  “You look beautiful.”

  “Thanks.” Crawley gazed at her feet and blushed, making his heart dance in his chest.

  “Where are your mom and dad?” Phil scanned the house for them with narrowed eyes.

  “They’re off at some Christmas party.” Her voice was muffled as she went into a closet to put away Phil’s coat.

  “Oh,” said Phil, as his heart seemed to skip a beat.

  “Yeah,” she said, coming out of the closet, “we have the whole house to ourselves, at least until midnight or so.”

  She went up to him and put her arms around his neck. Their lips met with a moist smacking sound. Remembering Rich’s words, Phil ran his hand down her spine, caressing lower, and lower, until he was cupping her shapely buttocks with his palm.

  He thought he had been too bold when she stiffened a bit, pulling away to look at him with wide eyes. Then she favored him with a smile, and they kissed deeply once more. Her tongue was agile inside his mouth, stealing his breath. He ran his hand over her firm buttocks, amazed at how good it felt to touch her.

  She broke the contact, stepping away from him. With a wordless smile, she took his hand and pulled him toward the wide stairs leading to her room. He followed, heart hammering in his chest, as the door to her bedroom opened. It appeared to have been recently cleaned, and was surprisingly Spartan for the room of a young woman. There was a poster of a large orb weaver spider on one wall, a few paintings that looked as if Crawley had done them some time ago, and a flat-screen TV flush against the wall. Her full-sized bed had a white bedspread with little flowers embroidered upon it. She tugged him until he was sitting next to her on it.

  He could almost hear Rich screaming at him to stop being a pussy, so he took her in his arms awkwardly and kissed her again. She leaned back, pulling him with her so that her torso was under his own, their legs still half off the bed.

  In the heat of the moment, their teeth banged together, but it created only a momentary pause in their passion. Gradually, their kisses became slower, more mediated. Her breath, minty from a recent brushing, felt cool in his mouth. He ran a hand through her silky hair and nibbled on her neck.