“Better than I have in months.” Her tone seemed subdued. “Guess not having your blood filtered can have some consequences.”
He raised an eyebrow at her morose manner, standing with arms akimbo. “I, uh…I brought all the stuff you wanted. Why did you need so many clothes just to check out? Wouldn’t one outfit to wear home have been enough?”
She turned away from him, hugging herself as if chilled.
“Autumn,” he said, coming over and putting a hand on her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
Her tattooed hand gently but firmly lifted his away as she turned to face him. Her soulful eyes did not seem the warm and inviting things he had come to love, but dark spears that lanced out at him.
“Steve, I’m not going home with you.”
All color drained from his face.
“What?” Steve blinked several times, then grinned. “Ha ha, haven’t made fun of me in a while, that’s a good one. Little cruel though.”
Autumn hid her face in her hands, her body scrunching in on itself as if she wished to disappear.
“I’m not kidding.” Her voice was muffled by her hands, but he still heard her clearly enough.
The truth dawned on Steve, and his jaw dropped open. “You’re not…Why? Why are you leaving me?”
Autumn lowered her hands, and though he strained to find it there was not an ounce of remorse in her soft brown eyes.
“I don’t love you, Steve. I wish I did, but I don’t.”
“But,” said Steve, his eyes growing moist, “I don’t understand, you said—”
She turned stiffly away from him to stare out the window once more. “I thought I was dying. I told you what you wanted to hear.”
Steve’s hands clenched into fists. “I don’t believe you. I can’t believe you. From day one we’ve been connecting like crazy, I know you feel it too!”
“Just because we have a good time, doesn’t mean we should be together.”
He turned away from her, went to the empty bed and leaned heavily against it. Nausea roiled up in his belly, and his body shook as he tried to reconcile the intolerable.
“We were going to get married.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
Steve spun around on his heel, face suddenly angry. “So when you moved in, that was just for a place to stay, right?”
She turned to face him, her eyes narrow and fierce even as they teared up. “That’s right! I knew you were soft, and wouldn’t turn me down. I thought if I was going to be dying soon you’d take care of me. But now I don’t need you. I’m moving in with my dad and Brad.”
“Autumn…don’t do this, please. I love you! Don’t you believe that I love you?”
Her face softened for a moment. “I know you do, Steve, and I’m sorry. This is the way it has to be.”
“What’s going on? Are you sick again? Is there something that—”
“Nothing’s wrong, Steve. We’re over. That’s that.”
“I can’t accept that. I won’t!”
“You need to leave,” she said, turning around to face the window again. “You’re upsetting me.”
“I’ll stay right here,” he said stubbornly, “until you make me believe you.”
Her face, reflected back at him in the window, was distorted and fierce. She sighed heavily and turned to face him. “If you don’t leave, I’ll call the nurses’ station and have you kicked out.”
“You wouldn’t.” Steve crossed his arms and glared at her, nostrils flaring.
Autumn stomped the few feet to her call button and pressed it. There was a reply almost immediately.
“Yes?” came the patient if condescending voice from the other end.
“There’s someone in my room and he won’t leave,” said Autumn.
“Fine!” Steve’s voice wavered and his vision grew blurry. “Okay, fine, I’ll go. Have a nice life, I guess.”
Steve stormed out of the room. He cast one last glance over his shoulder, but seeing the implacable, cruel glare on her face did nothing to make him want to stop.
Steve drove back home, hands tight on the wheel. He felt as if he should be crying, as if his world had come to an end, but for some reason the tears would not come. The cold winter evening was little comfort to the fire in his heart. It just seemed so unfair, that he and Autumn would struggle so hard only to have it end like it had.
When he returned home, he glanced around at his apartment and knew he could not stay. If he peered down, he saw the oriental area rug Autumn had purchased. When he looked at the wall, he saw her paintings and sketches. Even the kitchen had little magnets in the shape of skulls. Everywhere he looked, he was reminded of how much beauty and passion Autumn had brought into his life.
He went right back out the door, stormed down the stairs, and headed on foot toward the local watering hole. Steve proceeded to do something he never did: try to drink himself into oblivion. The bartender cut him off after only two hours, and he stumbled out the one door dancing before his eyes that turned out to be real.
Steve ended up walking around his neighborhood, which was not the safest activity, but his size and black mood seemed to keep the urchins at a distance. He found another bar, and then another, and soon the night had turned into a swirl of neon lights and dirty floors.
It was well past two in the morning when he stumbled around the corner and sighted his building. He was singing loudly to himself, badly slurring the words to “Always Look on the Bright Side of Life.”
He staggered across the street, barely noticing the woman in the short tight skirt leaning on the wall. Her face was done up in clownish makeup, and there was something off about the way her voice sounded.
“Hey, sugar,” she said, making him wince at the sound of the familiar pet name. “Looks like you’re headed home alone. I could keep you company.”
“No offense, sweetie—” Steve could barely focus his bleary eyes on the husky woman; she was nearly his height, and seemed unusually broad of shoulder “—but I’m real sick of your gender right now.”
“Then good news, sugar,” she said, stepping forward to run her hand across his shirt front. “I’m a little bit of both.”
Steve focused on the hand touching him, noticed the large veins, the black dots that indicated new hair growth, and burst into laughter.
“Sorry.” He slapped her hand away a bit hard due to his inebriated state. “I’m not into chicks with dicks. But you have a nice night!”
She stood in his path when he tried to walk around. “What you think you’re doing hitting me, motherfucker?” she asked, giving him a shove.
“Keep your hands off me, whore!”
“Whore? You calling me a whore?” Suddenly her hand lashed out, a fist smashing into Steve’s nose. Blood poured out of the orifice, spilling down his shirt.
“What the fuck?” Steve was aghast, watching the crimson fluid pour into his open palm.
The transvestite took another swing, which Steve ducked under. He tackled her and knocked her to the sidewalk. They rolled about, biting and kicking and gouging viciously. Neither took notice of the car load of young hipsters who stopped to film the altercation with their cell phone cameras.
Steve found himself hard pressed, due to his drunkenness and the fact that the transvestite was nearly as large and powerful as himself. He managed to end up on top of her, however, raining down hammer fists as she tried to cover up with her arms.
Abruptly, a pool of radiance fell over him. He glanced up, squinting at the bright light that made seeing anything else impossible.
“NYPD!” he heard over a loudspeaker. “Get off of the woman and put your hands behind your head.”
“Oh shit,” he said, even as he moved to comply.
Chapter 23
PHIL GRINNED SHEEPISHLY at Steve as the big man walked out of the police station, holding a plastic bag full of ice against the swollen knot on the side of his head. The big man stared sullenly at him, wordlessly walking past him to climb into
the taxi. Phil bit his lower lip, wanting to say something but not sure what.
He climbed into the seat next to Steve, noting with heaviness in his chest how his friend seemed to move like he was mired in molasses. His blue eyes, normally fierce and hawkish, were dull and listless as they stared out the windshield. The fight had messed up his face somewhat, but nothing that seemed permanent.
“Did they give you a shot for TB?” Phil asked at length.
Steve turned to glare at him as if he were a piece of shit and then stared forward once more.
“Well, that hooker might have had TB, so…”
Steve grunted away his concerns, eyes focused only on the road ahead.
“I tried calling the hospital,” said Phil, “but Autumn’s already checked out.”
“She left with her dad.”
“Her dad? What, to spend some time with him, I guess?”
“No, to stay with him, for the foreseeable future.”
“Are you serious? That’s…that’s ridiculous! Why would she do that?”
“Because she never loved me, Phil. She was using me, just like Susie said she was.”
Phil flinched, not just at the blunt words but the pain in Steve’s voice. “Maybe she was just coming down off her meds, or something. Have you talked to her?”
“She was the first person I called when I got arrested. She had already checked out of the hospital. When I tried her cell, the number went to voice mail the first few times. Then it stopped ringing altogether. I think she blocked me. Had to dig out a five from my wallet and pay for all the extra phone calls, to boot. Cops only pay for one.”
“Dude,” said Phil, feeling both miserable and angry. How could Autumn do that? To his eyes, to everyone’s eyes, they had seemed disgustingly happy together. Remembering that he was still a novice in the dating world, he chalked up his confusion to inexperience. “Do you want me to talk to her, maybe bring Ellie—”
“No!” Steve turned a sharp eyed glare on Phil. “I don’t want you involved.”
“Well, you should drive up to her dad’s place, then. It’s not that hard to find once you have the actual address.”
“No,” said Steve, pressing his damaged forehead against the cool glass of the window. “No, it’s over, Phil.”
“You’re giving up awful easy! I thought you said that Autumn was the one? That you guys were connecting on a lot of levels?”
“Yeah, well, the thing about women is they’re fucking crazy, and the only thing worse than them being crazy is they’re fucking good at deception. She played me, Phil. She came out and said that she played me.”
“She couldn’t possibly have meant it,” said Phil, remembering the glow that Autumn seemed to have when she was with Steve.
“Dude…” Steve rubbed his nose and seemed quite close to tears. “You didn’t see her face when she said it. Cold, cold as ice. Businesslike. It’s not like we were together that long. I should have known what was up.”
“You love her, though.”
Steve glanced up at him, moisture at his eyes. “Maybe I do. But it doesn’t matter now.”
They rode in silence the rest of the way to Steve’s apartment. Watching the large man shuffle toward his door was heart wrenching, and Phil tried one last time to lift his spirits.
“Hey,” he said out the window, “hang in there, all right? Try not to do anything stupid…well, anything else stupid.”
Steve glared at him, wiping the banal smile off of his face.
Phil looked with disdain at the concentric circles staining his glass coffee table. It was right in the spot where Crawley liked to sit, and he could tell what she had been drinking by matching the color of the rings. White for a latte, brown for coffee, red for pomegranate juice. What irked him further was the cork disc coaster that sat, as it always did, within inches of the cup rings.
Using the damp rag in his hand, he wiped the stains away. They were dried on and it took considerable elbow grease to clear them. When he was finished he checked the chrome legs of the table, eliminating even the slightest smudges. Satisfied, he turned his attention elsewhere.
Crossing the white carpet of his generous living space, he stopped momentarily to pluck a black thread from his cream colored sofa. He went around his apartment, tidying up stacks of magazines and turning his spider plant so the leaves did not touch (and therefore stain) the wall behind them.
His doorbell went off, prompting him to glance over his shoulder at the sink. His dinner dishes were still sitting in the soapy water, but he had no time to deal with them. Eagerly rubbing his hands, he did one last check of his domain. Everything seemed neat and tidy, as long as he didn’t glance in the kitchen.
Phil’s hand shook slightly as he undid the latch to his door. Crawley still had a way of making him nervous. Her moods seemed to infect her at random, and he often felt he was playing catch up for some unknown slight. Still, his face was covered in a warm smile when he opened the white painted door and beheld Crawley standing in the hall.
He drank in the sight of her with his eyes. She had dressed in a short, flared skirt with a bit of ruffle along the hem. Its lavender hue complemented the violet blouse she wore, a small pattern of flowers around each of its sleeves. Over the ensemble she wore a light denim jacket dyed nearly black, unbuttoned to show off her small but firm cleavage. Deep purple tights covered her legs, accentuating their fine curves. A pair of black pumps finished the look, straps buckled over her ankles holding them on fast. Her hair had been brushed out and styled so that it parted on the side. A long plume of hair almost, but not quite, hung in her eyes.
“Hey, baby,” she said, melting into his arms.
“Hey.” He was unable to resist kissing her lavender-painted lips. Her body felt good against his, the curves he had never quite fully explored sliding across him. “You look beautiful.”
“Thanks.” She blushed a bit, though it was hardly the first time he had told her the same.
A noise from the hallway reminded him that his front door was still open. He pulled away from Crawley long enough to close the door and lock it. When he turned around she was walking toward the bathroom at the rear of his apartment. She glanced over her shoulder, her hips swaying more than was necessary.
“I’ll be right back,” she said. “Why don’t you sit on the sofa and cue up the movie?”
“Yeah, okay.” Phil knew that they were only going to watch about five minutes anyway. Nevertheless, he turned on his Blu-ray and the words National Treasure 2 appeared on the screen.
He went into his kitchen and poured two glasses of red wine, carefully setting them both on coasters when he returned to the living room. Plopping down near the center of the sofa, he took a sip from his glass. His nose wrinkled a bit at the flavor. Crawley was a wine aficionado, but to him it tasted like cleaning agent.
Just as he set the glass down, he heard Crawley come out of the bathroom. Her heels clicked on the hardwood in the hallway before being muffled by the carpet as she entered the living room. Phil was about to turn as she came up behind him, but she put her hands over his eyes. A grin spread over his features as she giggled.
“Who is it?” he asked.
“A three hundred pound ex-convict here to rape you,” she said in a gravelly voice.
“Well,” said Phil, “your hands are big enough.”
“Hey!” said Crawley, smacking him lightly on the cheek. “Don’t make fun of my boy hands—don’t turn around yet!”
“What are you doing back there?” he asked suspiciously.
“Nothing,” she said. Her hands came away from his eyes, and she climbed over the back of the sofa and plopped in his lap. Phil’s eyes went wide when he realized that while she still wore her heels and stockings, there was not another stitch of clothing on her body. Their chemistry was perfect, and yet they both paused before their hands had even begun to explore each other.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I just can’t stop thinking about how miserable Stev
e is.”
“It’s all right,” she said, sliding off of his lap. “I know what you mean. It doesn’t seem right, us being happy when he’s so down in the dumps.”
“I can’t believe Autumn did that to him.”
“It just doesn’t seem like it’s true! When I talked to Autumn about Steve, there was never so much as a hint that it wasn’t for real.”
“Well, I don’t know.” Phil remembered what Steve had said in the cab. “Maybe she’s just good at being fake?”
“If I was Steve,” said Crawley, folding her legs under her and sitting up straighter on his couch, “I would drive up there and demand an explanation.”
“I think he’s in enough legal trouble now. He got a call not to report to work on Monday.”
“Oh, geez. You don’t think he’ll lose his job, do you?”
“I don’t know. I’d like to grab Autumn and shake her for doing this to Steve, though.”
“I’d like to punch her in the nose!” She giggled at his reaction. “Well, at least give her a piece of my mind.”
“So let’s do it.” He sat up himself.
“All right, tiger,” purred Crawley, sitting up on her knees. She crawled onto him, eyes shining with desire.
“No! I mean, yes, but I meant let’s go see Autumn.”
“Now?” Crawley asked, glancing up from where she had put her face in his lap.
“No, definitely not now, but tomorrow…”
“I’ve got church,” said Crawley, staring up from her decidedly unchurch-like activity, “but I’m sure the Lord will forgive me this once.”
She stopped talking because her mouth was occupied, and he stopped talking because he was unable.
Chapter 24
CRAWLEY’S ECLIPSE ROLLED UP outside of Jonathon’s house just before noon. The sun was near its zenith, casting warm light over the well-manicured lawn. Bees buzzed lazily as they zigzagged through the air from flower to flower. The scene seemed too placid, too calm for the storm that was brewing in Phil’s gut.
Phil was not a man who liked confrontation. A memory of himself squinting his eyes and shoving his finger in his ears while his parents argued in the next room rose to his mind unbidden. Shaking the image out of his head, he forced himself to bend his thoughts to the task at hand.
Forever Autumn Page 24