Do you love her? -S
Don’t know. Really like her, though. -P
Come on, dude. She’s your first real girlfriend.
You’re in love. -S
Maybe. I kind of think I’m not good enough for her. -P
What? You have a great job,
you’re thin, single, and neat. -S
I mean in the bedroom, asshole. -P
Lol. Crawley’s a bit more experienced than you,
I take it? -S
All that Phil had the gumption to type was:
Yes. -P
You’re scared of her, and of your own sexuality.
You need to let loose and just be your beastly self. -S
Easy for you to say.
You didn’t have conservative Jewish parents!
Remember the first time I spent the night at your house, and I whispered the whole evening? -P
I remember. You’re going to have to get over it, though. Women like it MORE than we do, dude.
Have you talked to her about it? -S
A little. -P
Did she have an O? -S
Says she does every time. -P
He paused, fingers hovering over the keyboard, then wrote in a rush:
I don’t think I’ve been doing very well, though. -P
Try, try again. -S
Phil sighed.
Thanks for nothing. -P
He signed out of the site. Within a few minutes he was doing a web search for sex advice.
“Guess I’ll have to solve this like a nerd.”
Chapter 16
STEVE STARED DOWN at the mutilated, glue-sodden mass of paper on the low yellow table before him. All around, his children zipped from one play center to another while a group of four sat across the table from him. Scissors, glue bottles, and scraps of red and pink paper were scattered across the surface, some being used by the children.
“What is this?” he asked, raising a bushy brow at the messy artifact.
“That’s for you, Mr. Steve,” said a brightly smiling little girl. “It’s a valentine!”
“Thank you, sweetie.” Steve got to his feet. He walked a short distance to his desk and used a homemade magnet constructed from a clothespin to affix it to his metal cabinet. It joined several other cards of a similar haphazard design.
When he came back to the table, he noticed Darrien was having a mock sword fight with another child, using pencils as sword surrogates. Steve sat down and watched the proceedings, picking up a thicker red painted pencil.
“Have at thee!” Steve zestfully added his own wooden weapon to the mix. The boys were nearly overcome with delighted laughter, growing more zealous in their motions. He was laughing himself, a sound which died in his throat as he heard his classroom door open. Ms. Stone stood in the doorway, a cold narrow-eyed stare plastered across her wrinkled visage.
“What can I do for you?” he asked after leaving the table and his dueling opponents behind.
“You can stop letting five-year-olds play with pencils. Do you want them to lose an eye?”
Steve’s smile faded. “Sorry.”
“Why do they have adult-sized pencils, anyway? For twenty years I taught kindergarten, and my children always had the bigger pencils…like that one.”
She pointed at the implement in his hand, causing him to shake his head. “This is too big.”
“Their motor skills aren’t so good yet. The larger size is easier for them to grip.”
“To grip, yes, but to write with? That would be like you or I using a broom handle for a pencil. Their handwriting is a lot better when they learn using the normal number two pencils.”
Ms. Stone put her hands on her hips and let out a long sigh. “Be that as it may, I actually came to see if you’re willing to be on the textbook selection committee this summer.”
“Uh, sure, I can do that. No problem.” Steve cursed inwardly at the loss of free time due to the long, dull procedure involved in picking new books for the school.
“Thank you,” said Ms. Stone, seeming almost sincere for a moment, which Steve figured must have been quite painful for her.
She turned on her heel, but not before glancing pointedly at the two boys continuing their pencil duel. Steve sighed as soon as the door shut and walked back to his table and took his seat. The two boys stopped fencing, turning their wide-eyed gazes upon his narrowed blue eyes.
When Steve spoke, his voice was heavy with admonishment. “I hope you two got your projects done!”
The two boys looked at each other and swallowed hard.
The sun had just dipped below the horizon when Steve trotted down the short steps leading to the staff parking lot. He walked over to his GTO, now bearing black paint upon its metal hide. Once he turned the key, the engine roared to life. It was still loud, but the shiny new muffler underneath kept the noise at a tolerable level.
“Wish the radio worked,” he grumbled as he put the car in drive. The rush hour traffic had mostly subsided, meaning it only took him marginally longer to get home than it would have on the train. He pulled up in the lot behind his building and suddenly swore as his phone beeped.
“What now?” He checked the message on his phone and cursed again. Roughly, he put the car back in drive and pulled back into traffic.
After waiting in a gridlock for nearly thirty minutes, he finally made it to a grocery store lot. He returned to the car about ten minutes later, a pair of plastic bags hanging from his hands. He hopped back in the driver’s seat and made his way back home.
His phone told him it was nearly eight o’clock when he finally got to his apartment door. Loud music blared from inside, muffled by the wooden obstacle. He tried the door, found it locked, then angrily dragged out his keys and jammed them in the lock.
When the door opened he saw Autumn sitting on the sofa, sketching on a drawing pad. “Hey.” She did not glance toward him as he entered.
He did not reply, wordlessly putting the bags on the table. He took some aspirin down from a shelf near head height perched over the sink, the tiny white bottle disappearing in his large hand. When he tried to pop the cap off he spilled half the contents on the floor. Swearing, he gathered up most of them and jammed them back inside. He put three of the tablets in his mouth and searched in the cabinet for a cup. He rolled his eyes as he found the cupboard empty, all the drinking vessels being in the sink along with other soiled dinnerware.
He walked around the corner from his small kitchen area back into the living room just in time to catch a pastel-hued package of squishy feminine products in the forehead. His narrowed-eye gaze was matched by one on Autumn’s own face.
“Super thick maxi absorbent? Do you think I’m a hemorrhaging horse?”
“That’s all they had!” He bent over and picked up the package.
“Bullshit! Just where did you go?”
“Pickley’s, of course. It’s on the bag, genius.”
“And that’s all they had? What kind of bullshit is that? Did you ask if they had any in the back, or—”
“No, I didn’t ask. I had a long day at work, got stuck in traffic for an hour, and I was tired.”
Autumn put her arms akimbo and stared at him, mouth twisted as if she’d just eaten something sour. “If you didn’t want to go, you could have just said no instead of getting the wrong thing on purpose.”
His face grew angry, hands held out to his sides. “I didn’t do it on purpose. It’s not like I’m a tampon expert.”
“These aren’t even tampons, you dumbass! They’re pads.”
“Don’t they do about the same thing?”
“God, why do I even…?” Autumn picked up the rags and jammed them back into the white plastic bag, then headed for the door. She retrieved her long black coat along the way, swaddling herself in its embrace.
“What are you doing?” Steve asked.
“Isn’t it obvious? I’m taking these back so I can get what I actually need.”
“I’ll go.” S
teve dug in his pocket for his car keys.
“Oh, no, sir! I wouldn’t want you to sully yourself with such a trivial thing.”
“It was my mistake. I’ll go.”
Her face startled him when she turned to face him, brows low over her narrowed brown eyes. “Stop being so damn nice about it! I can tell you’re pissed. You’re pissed about a lot of things lately. Why don’t you let it out?”
Steve stared at the carpet, shoulders slumping. “I’m not pissed at you, okay? I got yelled at by Stoneface, there was a traffic jam and—”
“You’re so pissed at me.” Autumn opened the door.
“Aren’t you a little…a little…early?”
“There was blood in my pee and I feel like shit, so I assume I’m having it early, all right? Can I go please?”
He took his hand off the door, not realizing he had shut it just as she was attempting to swing it open. She disappeared out the opening, her stomps fading in the distance. He turned his back to the door and slid down to his buttocks, hiding his face in his hands.
He remained that way for a long time, finally rising to his feet when his rear fell asleep. He munched on a bag of potato chips as he stared at the TV, the images not truly registering with him. When the clock on the wall indicated it was nearly nine thirty, he called Autumn’s phone. He left a message when there was no answer.
“Hey, sorry about the spat. I was worried about you. If you’re all right and don’t want to talk, just send me a blank text or something. I love you.”
He set the phone down and stared at the ceiling, eyes hard. With a grunt he rose to his feet and got his keys off the table. Worry drove his limbs as he dashed down the stairs and into the cold, dark night. Suckling the warmth from his body like a hungry infant, it seemed that the night itself was against him.
The leather seat of the car was icy on his back as he roamed the night streets, eyes scanning to either side of the road for Autumn. He followed her path to the store, then back to the apartment, and then checked her other neighborhood haunts. Growing frustrated, he decided to drive to Queens, figuring that even if Autumn was not there he could give Sal a piece of his mind.
He parked on the street before the shop. He spotted Sal’s vehicle, a bright green family-sized caravan, parked a few feet down the street from him. The sight made him grow angrier.
The bell at the top of the door tinkled merrily as he entered the parlor, contrasting his black mood. The waiting area was largely empty at that hour, Sal seated behind the receiving desk.
“Hello. Steve, isn’t it? We haven’t met yet, but I’ve seen you picking up Autumn. I’m Sal.”
Steve strode over to loom over the much smaller man, even more dwarfish in his low seat. His waist was hidden below the desk, but his upper body seemed to be in good shape. Muscular arms covered with tattoos both new and faded gripped his armrests. Everything about him, from his bald and waxed pate to his youthful green eyes and pierced lip seemed to make him a more obvious mate for Autumn. Steve found his bile backing up in his throat, and he wanted to throttle the man on the spot.
“Yeah. So I’ve heard. Is Autumn here?”
Sal seemed very uncomfortable, scratching behind his bald head. “She’s in the back, but she doesn’t want to see you right now.”
Steve pivoted on his heel, stalked toward the door which lead to the work area. “Where are you going?” Sal asked in alarm as Steve’s hand gripped the knob. “Wait—”
Steve ignored him, swinging the door open.
“Autumn?” As soon as Steve looked inside, he froze with his mouth wide open. She stood, filter mask and latex gloves on, next to a young woman in a chair. The stranger had no clothing on from the waist down, her feet up in stirrups. She lifted her face to stare in shock at Steve, then at Autumn.
“Get. Out,” said Autumn through gritted teeth.
Steve shut the door behind him, growing red.
“I tried to tell you,” said Sal with a nervous laugh, “that she was doing a below the belt piercing.”
Glad to have someone on whom he could vent his anger and frustration, Steve stalked over to him and glared. “Why is she working? I thought she just went for a walk.”
“She called me, wanted to hang out awhile. I asked if she could help out with this chick who didn’t want a dude to see her with her pants off. That’s it.”
“Hang out awhile?” said Steve, leaning on the counter to loom down at the man. “That’s a euphemism for ‘wanted to stick my dick in her,’ right?”
“Steve,” said Sal, spreading his hands out wide, “it’s not like that, swear to god.”
“Oh, you think you’re pretty clever, don’t you?” Steve smiled, though his eyes seemed cold. “First you offer her a job, then you comfort her after we have a fight, and then you’re in there, aren’t you buddy?”
Sal’s jovial features turned dark. “I don’t like being talked to like this in my own shop. Autumn and I are just friends. That’s it.”
“Oh, you don’t want to hear me say it in your shop? Then how about this: You get up and walk out from behind that counter and we step outside for a minute. Just for a minute, because that’s all the time I need to shove my foot up your ass.”
“Steve, calm down,” said Sal, holding his hands up in supplication. Both of their heads turned as the door opened and Autumn entered the waiting room.
“Nice job!” Her fierce glare took in both of them. “Now she’s too freaked out to…What’s going on here?”
“Sal’s about to get his ass kicked,” said Steve with a snarl.
“Steve, leave him the fuck alone,” she said, eyes narrowing dangerously. “You don’t know shit about shit, so quit acting like an ass.”
“It’s all right, Autumn,” said Sal from behind the desk.
“No, it’s not all right! I’m supposed to be cool with him eye humping you all damn day, every day? I don’t think so!”
“Why don’t you turn off the testosterone faucet?” said Autumn. “You can be such an alpha male douchebag sometimes! I’m not going back to—”
“Let’s go,” said Sal, putting his hands on his desk and shoving away from the table. Steve’s mouth twisted into a mirthless grin.
“Finally! Now you’re gonna…”
Steve’s words died in his throat as Sal rolled out from behind the counter in a wheel chair. His lower half was skinny to a ghastly degree, his useless legs twisted unnaturally.
“Try not to mess up my face too much,” Sal said with a grin.
“Asshole,” said Autumn, shoving past Steve and out into the cold.
“Autumn!” said Steve. He turned and gave Sal an apologetic head shake, then ran out after her.
He caught up with her up the street, her arms crossed over her chest and legs moving stiffly. She did not look at him when he called her name.
“I didn’t know he was in a…”
“I don’t give a shit about that.” She spoke through gritted teeth.
“Then what? Tell me what I did!”
“I shouldn’t have to tell you, but I will anyway. You don’t listen to me, you don’t trust me, and you don’t respect me.”
“What? Just how in the hell do you figure that?”
Her eyes flashed angrily to his. “If you trusted me, respected me, you wouldn’t feel the need to go hunt me down just because I’m gone a couple of hours.”
“Just because?” He sputtered for a few moments before finding articulate speech. “I was worried sick! I didn’t know if you were hurt, or—or raped and bleeding in an alley, or—”
“Don’t make yourself out to be noble. You’ve been just itching to get up in Sal’s face about us.”
Steve’s cheeks flushed red. “That just kind of happened. I was just gonna ask if he’d seen you, and he told me you didn’t want to see me, and—”
“He said, and I quote, ‘she doesn’t want to see you right now.’ Because I was up to my knuckles in another woman’s cootchie.”
He
laughed in spite of himself, a ghost of a grin playing at her own lips. “I’m sorry…I guess I do tune you out when the subject of, uh, monthlies comes up.”
“Go on.”
“And,” he said with a sheepish grin, “I guess I have been kind of a jealous douchebag about Sal.”
“Kind of?”
“But I do respect you.”
“Do you?” Autumn had a slight smile on her lips, but her eyes glistened as if she were on the verge of tears.
“Absolutely! If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have asked you to marry me.”
She looked down at the sidewalk below their feet, chewing on her bottom lip. “I still don’t know why you want to do that.”
Steve laughed, shoulders relaxing. “Oh, why would I want to do that? Well, let’s see, you’re the most beautiful woman in the world…”
“Oh, stop.”
“…and you’re smart, and funny…” He moved his head in near hers, and whispered in her ear for a moment, “…and the fact that it’s the best sex I’ve ever had doesn’t hurt.”
She laughed, turned her head to gaze into his eyes. Her own seemed to be haunted, or maybe just tired. “I’m sorry, too. I heard your message. I should have responded somehow. I know how you worry.”
“Look, why don’t we go back to the car? I’m freezing, and this isn’t the best neighborhood.”
“Okay.”
Steve felt his body deflate in relief. Autumn was coming back home.
They spend the ride home making humorous comments about the various people they saw on the street. Autumn’s decidedly mean-spirited sense of humor had his ribs aching with inappropriate laughter. By the time they got home, both were wiping tears from their eyes.
“See that Asian over there?”
Steve glanced in the direction she was pointing and saw an angry young man of Pacific descent, leaning against a lamppost, trying to look tough.
“He’s just mad because we don’t have vending machines with schoolgirl panties in them.”
Steve swerved a bit, his eyes tearing up so badly he was momentarily blinded. “Stop,” he said, gasping for breath, “please, you’re going to get us in a wreck.”
Forever Autumn Page 18