Waiting for Autumn

by DeRouen, J. A.

  “It may make me an asshole, Brady, but I can’t deny the fact that I’m still hurt. What happened in the past doesn’t just wash away because we want it to.” I wait, fully expecting him to counter my argument, but he remains silent as I gnaw on my cuticles. “But then I see Sebastian gazing at Aria like she’s a princess, because she damn well is, and I feel like a thief. How can I be so right and so wrong, all at the same time?”

  “Because real life doesn’t come with a rule book and red pen, Autumn. There are five thousand different explanations on the way from right to wrong, and most things fall somewhere in between the two. It’s entirely possible to be the victim and the thief, and you’re allowed to have feelings about both. What you can’t do is negate everyone else’s perspective but your own. And why’s that? Because you may be a thief, but you’re not an asshole.”

  “Can’t I just be right?” I grumble, feeling knocked down a peg or ten.

  “No, but you can’t just be wrong either, so chin up, little sister.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I grumble, glancing at my watch again. Fifty-five minutes. “I should have asked Sebastian to come with me to drop her off this morning. I knew he wanted me to and I just … ugh, I couldn’t do it. I need to be careful with Aria. She’s fragile, Brady.”

  “Uh, I think you’ve got that mixed up. Aria’s a laser beam away from being a Marvel superhero. Strong as they come. You’re the fragile one.”

  I huff. And sputter. And release the most exasperated of sighs.

  “Beatbox all you want, but it’s true.” I keep my mouth shut, and he lets out a victorious laugh. “You know, you’ve raised that little girl pretty much on your own. I mean, yeah, you had Aunt D and me, but I burp grown ass children … and Aunt Dorothy? Much longer and she’d turn Aria into a degenerate gambler and a cheat.”

  “It’s only cheating if you get caught,” I interject.

  “You’ve been living with Aunt D for way too long.”

  “Whatever.”

  Tuesday afternoons are for card games with the ladies, and Aria has been a permanent fixture there for as long as I can remember. Aria’s poker face is award-winning, and she can slide an extra card to her Aunt D with uncanny precision. Her game of choice is bourré, and she’ll strip grown men of their pride with a twinkle in her eye and a card up her ruffled, pink sleeve.

  “Anyway, point is we’re not exactly Mr. and Mrs. Rogers. And don’t get me started on the negative amount of help Mom and Dad offer.”

  “Please don’t get started,” I groan.

  Before Brady’s accident, he was too busy with football to notice everything my parents didn’t notice—mainly me. At some point, I stopped caring and did what any teenage girl would do. I took advantage.

  Throughout my pregnancy and after Aria was born, my parents were a check that came in the mail every single month, without fail. They thought their actual presence was only required on major holidays and birthdays—Aria’s birthday, not mine—and phone calls were few and far between.

  This time around, it’s Brady standing smack dab in the middle of my family, frantically waving his arms to the sound of stubborn pride and parental disappointment. I couldn’t find it in me to care. At least that’s what I tell myself. It’s what I’ve always told myself. I don’t have the energy to wave frantically anymore.

  “The point is you’ve been doing this thing alone for all these years, and now there’s someone standing on the sidelines, begging you to tap him in. Betting if you really think about it, you’ll have to admit that the only thing harder than doing it alone is letting someone help. And that someone being Sebastian? Yeah, you’re terrified. But you’re going to have to swallow it down and shake it out because Aria’s got another person in her corner wanting to love her. And you’ve got to let him.”

  Chapter 23

  Present Day

  Sebastian

  Haven, LA

  The first day after my talk with Lexi, I placed a reserved sign in front of a barstool just for Aria. She and Lexi decorated it with markers from her backpack. One side Wonderland, for Lexi, and the other side mermaids and unicorns, for Aria.

  The next day, I hung a pocket organizer from the back of her chair and filled the smaller compartments with scented markers. Her favorite was the watermelon, or waterlemon, according to her. Before leaving for school, she gave me a quick half smile and a scrunch of her rainbow dotted nose.

  Every day, I’ve added to her stash. Sketch pad … pink bow to decorate the pocket organizer … glittered princess stickers. Those were the clincher. She found the biggest crown on the page and slapped it on my chest with a hasty “thanks” as she darted out the door to school.

  It’s after lunch, and I’m still wearing my glittery crown, along with a goofy grin I just can’t seem to shake.

  Not too shabby for the first full week of being a dad. Or kind of a dad. She may not know I’m her dad yet, but if she found out at this very second, there’s only a fifty-fifty chance she’d balk. That’s a marked improvement from just a few days ago.

  After Lexi’s pep talk about winning the girl, I called Autumn and asked if we could make breakfast at the coffee shop before school a regular thing. Surprisingly, she was all for it. Sounded downright enthusiastic.

  I refuse to obsess about what that means.

  I’ve spent each morning, eyes trained to the side window of the shop, waiting for those two pairs of feet to make their way down the stairs from their apartment.

  The day after the hot pink tulle bow, Autumn texted me and asked me to meet Aria at the staircase. She was too excited to wait for her mom to finish getting ready.

  She met me at the bottom, a wide pink headband attempting to tame those wild curls and excited eyes. I told her she’d need to hold my hand until we got inside, and when those tiny fingers slid into my hand, tickling the inside of my palm, my ribcage could barely contain my heart. I put on a brave face, but my inner-dad-yearning-to-break-free wept with joy.

  Earlier in the week, Brady had called and asked if he could visit for the weekend, and I was all for it. Then he talked Autumn into letting Aria come over so she could study, and it took a great amount of effort to keep my fist pump and girly yelp to myself. So, when he asked how I felt about a slumber party at my house, I had to put the phone down for a minute. I don’t know how he got Autumn to agree to it, but gift horse and all that.

  My emotions hang precariously from a spinning yo-yo, and my daughter is holding the string.

  “The urge to knee you in the balls to bring you back to reality is so strong, I’m literally trembling from restraining myself.”

  My hand covers my fly on instinct because restraint has never been Lexi’s strong suit, and I shoot her a scathing look.

  “You’re fired.”

  “Okay,” she deadpans as she continues to manhandle the espresso machine.

  “Mind if I leave early this afternoon?”

  “Please. Leave. You’re oozing happiness, and it’s starting to fuck with the vibe of this place. I can’t take it.”

  “What the hell are you talking about? This is a place of business. We serve happiness in a steaming cup. That’s why the people keep coming back.”

  “We serve fuel,” she growls, pointing to the store sign. “We play …” she points to the speakers in the ceiling. “Rap music. We give them…” She points to herself. “Attitude. We serve java with an edge, and you’re, you’re…” She waves her arms in my direction with a disgusted scowl on her face. “You’re nothing but a puffy cloud of goo right now. I’m glad your daughter kind-of, sort-of is starting to like you, but keep that shit to yourself.” She lowers her head closer and whispers, “Keep your personal life out of the workplace, man. Your employees shouldn’t have to tell you this.”

  Before I can respond, a familiar voice joins the conversation.

  “Who’s ready for a sleepover? Lexi?” I hear the tease in Brady’s voice and feel the menace in Lexi’s glare. Brady lifts up a DVD case. “I ev
en brought Moana. Grab your bikini, sexy Lexi, we’re going to Hawaii.”

  “Don’t ever call me that again.”

  “So sensitive, that one,” Brady says, pointing the DVD at Lexi.

  “Out. Now. You’re a fluff ball up my nose, and he’s sandpaper on my nipples. I don’t know whether to sneeze, shout in pain, or both.”

  I round the counter, pointing an accusing finger at my barista. “Don’t scare away my customers.”

  “Ugh!” She rolls her eyes and huffs. “You don’t get it. They come back because they’re scared.”

  “She’s right, dude. I can’t explain it,” Brady mutters as we leave the shop, only loud enough for me to hear.

  * * *

  “Yummy,” Aria says with a smack of her lips as she swallows and puts down her mug. Chocolate rings her tiny lips, and she tries to lick it clean with little success. I’m surprised any hot chocolate made it through the mound of marshmallows she piled on top.

  Star marshmallows, of course, because I’m awesome. Only the coolest things for Aria.

  Her monogrammed duffel bag sits by my front door with a pint-sized pillow looped into the top straps. I keep glancing at it and wondering how my solitary life became so full.

  Isaac.

  Brady.

  Then Aria.

  I’m not sure where, or if, Autumn fits into this list of blessings, but this wave of happiness I’ve been riding all week has made a minuscule crack in my dashed hopes and dreams where she’s concerned. If I can morph from a loner into a guy who has sleepovers, then anything’s possible, right?

  My anger has been doused with hot chocolate and marshmallows. What felt like a raging fire only a week ago is starting to resemble dying embers.

  Can it really be that simple?

  “Been waiting all week to hear about this amazing school, Aria.” Brady nudges her elbow. “Tell me about your new friends.”

  She sucks in a deep breath, and her shoulders rise from the effort.

  “Well, Manda is my bestest friend. She’s got a guinea pig named Meatball and eats macinroni for lunch. My other friend, Kylie, has a Wonder Woman lunch box and she talks about her daddy taking her fishing all the time.”

  “Meatball,” Isaac parrots with a smirk.

  “And Henry sits next to me on the story mat. He smells like hot dogs and already lost a toof.”

  “Old Henry’s keeping his hands to himself, right?” Brady shoots me an amused smirk, and his mouth twitches with the effort of not making a hot dog joke. “Do I need to go to that school and put the smack down on that little jerk?”

  He scrunches his face and leans in, nose-to-nose with Aria. She giggles and taps his shoulder sweetly. She reaches across the table and grabs the cards I’d placed there earlier at Brady’s request.

  “You shuffle the deck, Uncle Brady. Then I’ll deal.” She slaps the cards in front of him, and he chuckles.

  “All right, but I can’t play this round. I need to finish up a few things with this new app I’m building,” he explains, pointing to the laptop open in front of him. “It’s crunch time for Uncle Bray, but I’ll be done soon. You’ll have to play with Sebastian and Isaac.”

  Aria steals a glance at Isaac sitting next to her at the table and whispers shyly, “You know how to play bourré?”

  Isaac shakes his head. While she quietly explains the rules of the game, I collect all the things I’ve learned about her like golden eggs.

  Aria is the girliest of girls, the complete opposite of her tomboy mom. She’s got glittered barrettes in her hair. Autumn usually had errant twigs. I see Autumn’s strength beneath the surface, though. It’s just wrapped in ribbons rather than smudged with dirt.

  Her favorite muffin is cinnamon chip, but she won’t sneeze at a strawberry glaze one either. And she’ll lick every bit of glaze left on her hands, right down to the wrist. It would be atrocious to watch if she wasn’t so darn cute.

  She brushes her unruly curls out of her face constantly, but waves Autumn away any time she attempts to wrangle them.

  Her voice is firm and commanding. It becomes the sweetest whisper when she’s overwhelmed, though. And when she’s got a crush …

  Which is the newest golden egg, because she’s definitely crushing on Isaac.

  Since she’s four, I’ll think I’ll wait until much later to break her heart with a talk about cousins. In the meantime, Isaac eats up the attention as Aria flutters and coos.

  She kneels on her chair and grabs the deck Brady just shuffled for her.

  “You know how to play?” she asks, cocking her head to the side.

  I nod and tap the table in front of me, signaling for her to deal the cards. Her lips quirk up into the smallest of smiles.

  The cards slide in front of each person with practiced ease. Once they’re dealt, she places the deck in the middle of the table and flips over the top card. Five of clubs.

  “Clubs are trumps,” she states, all business as she swipes the card and places it in her hand.

  Honestly, it’s a little eerie. I’m half expecting her to ask me to ante up.

  “No betting tonight, Aria,” Brady warns, and my eyes widen.

  Shit…

  The ace and king of clubs sit pretty in my hand, but I discard the ace with my throw away cards and ask for three new ones. Beating the crap out of Aria won’t gain me any points toward winning her heart.

  She inches her mug across the table until it hits my hands.

  “Can I have some more hot chocolate please?”

  “Of course.” I jump up and make her drink just the way she likes it. Heavy on the marshmallows.

  There will come a day, very soon I’m sure, where I’ll have to put my foot down or say no to Aria. And I’ll do it, because that’s part of being a parent. Lucky for me, today is not that day. Today, I plow her with marshmallows.

  The table is silent as I sit down and give Aria her drink. I shrug it off and grab my hand off the table and fan out my cards.

  The ace of clubs is back in my hand.

  My head pops up, and I glance at Brady. He won’t meet my gaze, but I see his shoulders shaking. Isaac shrugs his shoulders, but his eyes dart to the smallest player at the table. Aria is a statue.

  “Don’t need help winning,” she says while examining her fanned out cards.

  * * *

  Aria was right. She didn’t need one bit of help winning. She wiped the floor with Isaac and me and left us begging for mercy.

  My daughter is a card shark. I’m oddly proud.

  “Uncle Seb, can I go to my friend Tristan’s house for a little while? They’re playing Call of Duty, and he only lives three blocks away on Elm.” Isaac stands and checks his watch. “I’ll be home before eleven, if that’s okay.”

  Aria pokes Brady in the arm, but he waves her off with a gesture.

  “Sure. Do you want me to drive you?”

  “Nah, it’s not far.”

  Aria keeps poking, and Brady finally turns to look at her. She leans into him and whisper-yells the way only kids can do, “Can I go wiff him?”

  Her front teeth tap her bottom lip when she makes the “f” sound, and I wish I had a camera so I could see that exact expression over and over. Etch it in my brain. Tattoo it on my heart.

  Remind myself that I’m here, with my daughter, and I’m part of this moment. Part of this family.

  Brady gives her a sad smile and pecks her on the cheek. “Nah, sugar. It’s too late for little girls to be running the roads. Plus, it’s nothing but a bunch of dirty boys playing video games. What fun is that?”

  She peers over at Isaac and drops her eyes to the ground. His shoulders sag at the sight.

  “Hey Aria, how about I meet you at the coffee shop for breakfast before school sometimes? What if I sat with you?”

  She gives him a nearly imperceptible shrug as she mutters, “All right.”

  “Cool.” Isaac taps her nose and smiles, and that’s all it takes for her to perk up.

  “T
ime to bathe, Aria,” Brady says after closing his laptop. “Can you please grab your bag by the door, then give Isaac and Sebastian back a little of their dignity?”

  “Okay.” She giggles as she skips across the room.

  “That was a helluva ass-whooping she gave y’all,” Brady mumbles out of the side of his mouth.

  Neither one of us comment. What is there to say? She annihilated us.

  She climbs up into Brady’s lap, and he pops a wheelie to get an extra laugh, then takes off for the bathroom.

  “She’s a pretty cool kid,” Isaac says as he clears the kitchen table.

  “Since she thinks you are responsible for the rising and setting of the sun, not surprised you think so.” I pop him in the stomach with a hand towel, and he dodges the hit.

  “I am pretty great.”

  “You’re all right.” I follow him into the kitchen. “So, first weekend after school’s started and you’ve got plans. I take that to mean it was a good week, yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And Tristan? Good kid? Good parents?” I hold up my hand to stop him from talking. “Swear to God, if you ‘yeah’ me, I’m walking with you to this kid’s house and introducing myself to the family.”

  Isaac’s eyes bug out, and he shakes his head. “Aw, hell no. You can’t do that.”

  I gesture for him to continue as I walk to my shoes by the front door as an obvious threat.

  “He’s in my honors classes, so he’s got to be pretty smart. On the basketball team. I’m not sure about his parents, but I know his dad went to Temple when he was a kid.” I move away from the front door, and Isaac sighs in relief.

  I point at him as I pass. “Eleven o’clock. If there’s any trouble, anything feels off, you call me, and I’ll be there, no questions asked. Got it?”