“You’re ruining the fun,” he said.
I tried to think if anyone had ever said no to Jeff’s exploits before his accident. He was always suggesting crazy adventures and we always went along, my anxiety in tow.
“I’ll push you on the swing,” I suggested again.
“After one more trip with Lisa.”
And it went exactly like he wanted. First the trip down the hill, me standing at the top, my worry keeping them safe, then him and his wheelchair on the specially designed swing.
I could tell he was tired but it took another ten minutes for me to convince him we should head back.
“This is the most fun I’ve had in a while,” he said as we wheeled him back toward his room. “I don’t want it to end.”
“It’s not your last day of fun, Jeff,” I said. “There will be many more. You need to take it easy.”
“Yes, Mommy,” he said, but reached back and patted my hand.
I had felt like his mom for the last hour and I didn’t like it. I didn’t like being the one who had to speak reason, but someone needed to.
We made it back to his room, and delivered him back to his real mom and left.
CHAPTER 40
My mom was waiting in my room when I arrived home.
“Hey, what’s up?” I asked.
She tilted her head, inspecting the side of my forehead. “What happened?”
“What?” I reached up and felt a swollen bump from where Jeff and I had collided. “Oh. Wheelchair games gone wrong. Where are Dad and Owen?”
“Indoor golf.”
“Is Owen mad at me? I haven’t had much time with him this week.”
“He’ll be fine. How are you, Autumn?”
“I’m okay.” Then decided to be honest because I knew she could tell. “A bit overstressed lately.”
“I thought so. Maybe it’s time to take a break. Take a couple of days off the hospital and friends and school. Just decompress at home.”
It did sound good, but it wouldn’t get me out of my head.
“You’ve been taking your medication, right?”
“Yes.” I couldn’t imagine how much worse I might feel without it right now. “I think most of this stuff is situational, and I’m hoping that when Jeff is out of the hospital things will feel right again.”
“You’re questioning your feelings for him?”
“I’m questioning everything.”
“There’s nothing wrong with thinking things through. But it’s important to make the decision that’s right for you.”
“He’s in the hospital.”
She smiled. “I know. And that makes you feel guilty. But regardless, you have to live your life, not his.”
“I know. Thanks, Mom.”
I unlaced my shoes and was stepping out of them as she headed for the door. “Oh,” I called after her. “Have you seen a book? Hamlet? I left it in the kitchen the day before yesterday.”
“I think it’s still there.”
“Thanks.” I kicked my shoes into my closet and went to the kitchen in my socked feet. The book sat on the counter and I picked it up. Almost out of habit now, I flipped through the pages, looking for the letter. It wasn’t there. I flipped through them again, not producing a different result.
“Mom!” This wasn’t good. I searched the countertops. There was a pile of mail next to the phone and I looked through it but couldn’t find anything. I scanned the floor under the cabinets, even pulled out the trash can and started digging through it.
My mom came into the kitchen. “What are you doing?”
“There was a letter. I’m missing a letter.”
“Calm down. We’ll find it. What did it look like?”
“Like a letter. A long white envelope with writing on it.” My hand met the slimy remains of macaroni and cheese. I shook it off and turned on the sink, washing my hands with soap. I needed an empty bag so that I could transfer the trash over. I headed for the pantry.
“Did it have a stamp on it?”
I stopped and slowly turned to look at my mom’s worried face.
“Yes . . . why?”
“I thought you were looking for a letter. Like a piece of paper with writing on it.”
“No . . . so did you see it?”
“I sent it.”
“You what?”
“It was just sitting there on the counter addressed and ready to go. I thought maybe one of Owen’s friends or one of your friends needed it mailed.”
“No, it was in the book.”
She lowered her brows. “No, it wasn’t in a book. Just on the counter.”
It must’ve slipped out. “Oh no. He’s going to kill me.”
“Who’s going to kill you?”
“When did you mail it? Yesterday?”
“Yes.”
“It was only going to Salt Lake. Do you think it got there yet?”
“Probably.”
“Crap. Crap, crap, crap.” A saving thought came to me. “I have her address. In my phone. I entered it into my phone.” I rushed back to my room and pulled my shoes back on. “I have to go talk to her.”
“Go talk to who?” my mom asked from my doorway.
“His mom. I have to go talk to her. Maybe she’ll give me the letter back. I’m going to fix this.”
“Autumn, I don’t think you should go anywhere with how you’re feeling right now.”
“Mom, please. If I don’t I’m going to freak out. Like really freak out. Can you just trust me on this? I need to do something.”
“Show me your hands.”
I held them out in front of me. Surprisingly they were as steady as could be.
She nodded. “Call me on your way home.”
“Okay. Thank you!” I kissed her cheek and ran out the door.
CHAPTER 41
The apartment complex was in a scary part of Salt Lake. It was a good thing my mom hadn’t known exactly where I was going because there was no way she’d have let me go there. The other good thing was that it was still early afternoon so it wasn’t as scary as it might’ve been when the sun went down.
I walked through the glass front doors and up a wide set of stairs. The elevator looked functional at best so I continued to take the stairs up to the fourth floor. The hall smelled like mildew and cinnamon, making me gag a little. I stepped over a tipped-over planter box halfway down the hall, dirt spilled across the carpeted floor. When I arrived in front of her door, I wiped my sweating palms on my jeans and knocked.
The woman who opened the door had graying hair and Dax’s eyes. Please let this go well, I thought. “Hi.”
“Can I help you?”
I looked over her shoulder and into the apartment. Maybe I’d see a stack of mail somewhere. I didn’t. All I saw was a tidy studio apartment. A small couch with a knit quilt hanging over the back. A bookcase with neatly stacked books. A kitchen with wiped-down counters and a teakettle on the stove. Everything in its place. I didn’t know what I had been expecting, but not this. Not a clear-eyed, healthy-looking woman with a tidy studio apartment. “Um. Did you get your mail today?”
She let out a small gasp and I knew she had. I knew she knew I was there because of it.
“My mom sent you that letter by accident. He’s not ready for any sort of response right now. Can you respect that?”
She opened the door wider. “Come in.”
I did. We sat on the couch together. Me desperate, her calm. Like Dax.
“You know my son,” she said.
“I do. He left a book at my house with that letter in it. He has no idea you have it.”
She smiled a sad smile. “Too good to be true.”
“You were going to write him back?”
“Of course. I already started to.” She picked up a paper off the coffee table next to us that I hadn’t been able to see from the door. She pulled out Dax’s envelope from beneath it. The edge was jagged from where she had opened it. She ran her finger over the return address. “I
had no idea where he was.”
“He’s not there anymore. He lives in a different house.”
She nodded. “How is he?”
“He’s . . .” My heart thudded several hard beats. “Amazing. You have an amazing son.”
She looked back up at me. “You’re his girlfriend. I didn’t realize.”
“No. I’m not. Dax doesn’t . . .” He doesn’t do commitment is what I almost said, but instead finished with, “Doesn’t want that.”
“I’m sorry.”
She obviously knew I did want something with Dax. And I did, I realized, as I was sitting there desperate to get the letter back for him. Desperate to fix this. I finally knew what I wanted, and it felt bittersweet in that moment.
“So what do you need from me . . . ?”
She was waiting for my name. “Autumn,” I provided.
“Autumn. What can I do?”
“Not send whatever it is you’re writing. Not yet, at least. Will you give me a week to tell him what happened?”
“Of course.” She smiled, and I saw Dax inherited that from her as well. “But then I can send this to him, right? I have changed so much, and I’d like him to see that. Plus, he has legitimate questions in here. Questions he needs the answers to even if he wants nothing to do with me.”
“Yes. You should send it in a week.”
She picked up the pen lying on the coffee table. “Will you write down where I should send it to?” She handed the pen to me.
I stared at the pen. Maybe I should just let her send it to the address listed on his envelope. It would possibly get forwarded on to him eventually. But that was just putting off the inevitable. Either way I was going to have to tell him what I’d done when I returned his book without a letter. This way, with a letter from her in hand, he’d see that his mom had changed. This woman wasn’t the same one who’d walked away from Dax. And with that tattoo branded on his arm, he never would’ve sent the letter on his own. Things happen for a reason. Maybe this did. Maybe it would help him with his commitment issues. With me.
I took the pen and envelope. “Why haven’t you reached out to him in all these years?”
“I didn’t deserve to. I was waiting for him. Autumn, I still remember the day the police showed up at my house to take him from me. One officer had my meth, the other had my son. Do you know which officer I lunged for? I did not deserve to be the first to reach out. But now I know that he wanted to. That he’s been thinking about me as well.”
My throat went tight with that story, reminded me what she had done, who my loyalty was to. I handed her back her things. “I don’t have his address memorized.”
She seemed to know I wasn’t being honest. She held up the letter. “He asked about his dad, too. He needs to know.”
I nodded. “I’ll send it to you after I talk to him.” Or better yet, I’d let him reach out. I had a week to tell him what I’d done, and hopefully he’d take it well and want his mom’s letter. “Do you have a number we can reach you at?”
She nodded and wrote it down on a piece of scratch paper.
I tucked it into my pocket and smiled. “It was nice to meet you.”
“You too, Autumn.”
“And then she said, Owen, you are the handsomest, smartest, funniest guy in the entire universe.”
I looked up from where I had been staring at the menu at Owen’s favorite café. Okay, maybe I’d been staring past the menu. “She really said that?”
He threw the wrapper from his straw at me. “I’ve waited all week and you’re still not really hanging out with me.”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. But do you see that?” I pointed to the space above my head.
“No.”
“Well, I feel it. It’s a ticking time bomb. It’s ticking down to the moment I hand Dax his book back with no letter in it.”
“And when will that be?”
“Never? Can I just not ever tell him?”
“The sooner you tell him, the less anxious you’ll feel about it.”
I’d filled my brother in on what had happened. Mainly because my mom told him and my dad the story about the letter and they all wanted context when I got home. Now it was a full day later, and I couldn’t shake the dread of talking to Dax about what I’d done. “I know.”
“Should I take you by his house?”
“No.” I patted my menu. “No, you’re leaving tonight. I have time to talk to him. So finish your story. This girl you were telling me about, she’s obviously very wise if she said all those things about my brother. I approve.”
“She didn’t exactly say them, but I saw them in her eyes.”
I laughed. “I bet you did.”
“And I know she’s the one for me,” he said in a dramatic fashion.
I wanted to laugh again, but I stopped. “You know? Just like that?”
“Well, not just like that, but it was almost that easy. Shouldn’t love be easy?”
“You love her?”
“No, but I just mean the act of falling in love. Shouldn’t it be easy?”
“Yes. It definitely shouldn’t be scripted.”
“Exactly. It’s not something you should have to analyze over and over again. If it’s right, you should know.”
I smiled and shut my menu, looking around for the waiter. “Now you’re the love expert?”
“Always have been, Autumn.”
It wasn’t that I was doubting what I had come to realize at Dax’s mom’s house. I knew I liked Dax. I just wished that Owen had met him. I wanted one second opinion. Everyone else was on Jeff’s side.
The thought of Dax holding my face at the park and saying figure out what you think flashed through my mind. His eyes staring into mine so intensely. I didn’t need other people to tell me what I already knew.
“I know what I think,” I said out loud.
Owen looked up from his menu. “Oh yeah?”
“I like him. A lot.”
“Dax?”
“Yes,” I said.
“And you don’t care about the friend fallout that will occur with that choice?”
“I don’t care.”
He smiled. “Good for you.”
“Regardless of what happens with Dax, Jeff isn’t right for me. I wanted him to be for so long that I looked past the way he made me feel when I was with him—always on edge, worrying what he’d do or say next. I didn’t notice the difference until I met someone who helps me relax.” Now I just needed to make sure I hadn’t ruined everything. And I needed to tell him how I felt. That wouldn’t be an easy task either, to convince the boy who didn’t do commitment that we could be different. I twisted the pink bracelet on my wrist. But I had to try.
CHAPTER 42
On Monday as I grabbed Hamlet off my nightstand, I contemplated for the millionth time what today would be like. The full-length mirror on the back of my door showed me how nervous I felt about what I was about to do. I was about to hand Dax his book back without the letter inside. It was going to be how I started the conversation. Maybe I’d take him to the greenhouse again. Who cares if we had to miss first period? We would talk this out. Then I’d tell him I liked him.
I straightened my green sweater, one of my favorites, and fixed one of my loose waves. Yes, I had put extra care into my looks today. There was nothing wrong with trying to distract the guy while delivering shocking news.
But Dax wasn’t by the buses where I normally saw him in the mornings. And a search of the school hallways produced the same results. I rounded the corner, thinking I’d try looking in his first period class, when I nearly ran over Dallin.
“Autumn,” he said, all business.
“Yes, Dallin?”
“It’s your day today at the hospital. You’re still planning on going, right?”
“Actually today is kind of bad for me. Do you know if anyone might want to switch?”
“Seriously? You hanging out with someone else?” He gave me the same smug look he’d given me
in the hospital when he saw me with Dax.
“No, it’s just . . .” That’s exactly what I was planning to do. “Never mind. I’ll go.” I needed to talk to Jeff anyway. I could talk to him first.
“No, if you’re too good to be assigned a day, then I can find someone else.”
“Dallin. Just stop, okay? I’ll go.”
He held up his hands in surrender. “Good. Because despite everything, Jeff seems to like you.”
“You’re kind of a jerk, you know that?”
“Only when I think someone is screwing over my friend.”
I wanted to argue, but I was about to screw over his friend and that made my insides twist with guilt. I had to remind myself that it was my life I had to live. Nobody else’s. I was going to talk to Jeff today.
Jeff and his parents were playing a board game when I walked into the room. I knew Jeff was humoring them by the look on his face. The tray that extended over his bed was too small for the board, but Life was spread out there as well as possible.
“Autumn!” he said, and the little car with its peg people fell onto his lap.
“Hi.”
“Come play with us.” He plopped a little green car onto the board and added a pink person to it. I pulled up a chair and his dad handed me a stack of money and a career card. Teacher, it said. Forty-seven thousand dollars of salary. The structure of the game calmed my nerves a bit, and before long I was laughing with Jeff.
“I want to change careers,” he announced ten minutes later, when he landed on that square.
“But you’re a surgeon and you have the highest salary possible in the game,” I said.
“I do not base my decisions on salary, Autumn. I base them on job satisfaction and I’m unsatisfied. I’m away from my wife and twins too much. I need a change in my life.”
His mom laughed. “You should always be happy in your job choice. What a wise decision.”
“There’s something to be said about security, too,” I said.
“Very true,” Jeff’s dad agreed.
“Do you hear that, parents? Autumn is a gold digger. If I don’t bring her home lots of money, she’ll be unhappy.”