Change Of Season (30 page)

“You really should drag everything over.  My taste is impeccable.”

Andrew laughed.  “Oh, we’re not full of ourselves at all, are we?”

“You’ll see!”

The banter continued, music softly playing while they traded barbs over music, film and politics.  Each verbal parry was lighthearted, Andrew often seeming to take the opposite stance simply to rile her up.  To some, it may have been infuriating, but to Autumn, it was the most she’d laughed in months.  They ended up sharing the couch, each leaning against an opposing arm of cozy leather, their legs stretched side by side along the centre cushion.  Long having polished off their caffeine supply, they’d had a rousing sing-along to Cee-Lo Green and were now drumming along to The Tragically Hip.

“I love this song,” Andrew said.

“Everyone loves ‘Grace, Too’.  I think it’s mandatory to maintain your Canadian citizenship.”

“What do you think they’re playing over in the gym?”

Autumn frowned.  “Hmm… Probably wretched drivel by Drake, or some Katy Perry crap.”

“I can see it now:  the ten-minute Tiesto remix of ‘Firework’.”

“Oh dear God, save us!” Autumn rolled her eyes.  “The moment that she used Rebecca Black in a video, she was truly dead to me.”

“Now, now, be charitable!” Andrew admonished playfully. “After all that hair dye, it’s really hard to remember her days of the week, okay?  Rebecca saved her from embarrassment.”

“And now it’s Rebecca’s moment! Her moment!  She’s getting her
paper
.”  Autumn snickered at this. “Spoiled rich kid.”

The song changed to a soft piano melody, and Autumn sighed in recognition.  It was one of her favourite songs by her favourite band – if she were forced to settle upon just
one
favourite.  Noticing the shift, Andrew leaned forward.

“I really like this one,” he said quietly.  “It’s in the running for the film.”

“It’s a beautiful song,” Autumn replied.  “A pretty good choice, too.”

“I thought so.”

They sat together, the piano and plaintive vocals the only break in the silence.  It was comfortable silence, the kind born on sleepless nights staring out at the stars, counting every twinkle like a ceiling tile dot or a prancing sheep.

“Fitting you like this, what with you sharing the same first name.” 

“I noticed the ‘Andy’ in there.  Is that why you shared it with me?”

Autumn shrugged. “Just occurred to me, actually. Jack’s Mannequin is one of my favourite bands.  Although, it could be a strange serendipity thing.”

Andrew seemed hesitant, his mind whirring behind blue eyes hazed in sugary silence.  There was something… odd.  Pensiveness, maybe?  Her eyes closed, she pushed aside any questions, losing herself in the safe embrace of her music. 

“It reminds me of you.”

“Huh?”  Eyes opened wide.

Andrew gestured to the computer speakers.  “This song.  It just… reminds me of you.”

The room was full of words, razor letters that tore through her defenses from all sides. 
It reminds me of you
.  The knife twisted deep in her stomach at this
knowing
.  He wasn’t wrong: it reminded her of herself, too.  Insomnia and medications and a desperate need to believe in someone or something?  Story of her life.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

“It’s fine.”

“You don’t look fine,” Andrew insisted.

A darting glance and she was exposed: he knew her too well.  How could he possibly understand so much?  How had he cracked her code, learned her by rote? 

Maybe he recognizes his own kind
, she thought, and immediately felt her heart fall.  This misery, this unwanted lover that clung to her flesh and haunted every waking second – she wouldn’t wish it upon anyone.  To even consider that he dwelled in the same despair…

“Autumn?”

Startled, she averted her gaze.  “I’m sorry.  Guess I drifted off for a second.”

The music shuffled on to an upbeat song by Tilly and the Wall. 
Reprieve
.  Forcing a smile, she shook herself slightly, stretching her toes. 

“Are there any more brownies?”

And like that, they were back to banter, as if he’d never stripped her defenses and called her out.

***

She wasn’t sure when sleep overtook her; she only knew that when a gentle hand shook her arm, she’d squinted at the light flooding her vision, her hand pushing hair from her face and coming to rest on a denim-clad knee that was definitely not her own.  Startled, she flew upright, mortified at what she’d done.

I fell asleep on Andrew.  What the hell
?

“It’s almost ten,” he said gently. 

“Oh, shit!”  Her mind ran wild, positing all sorts of questions about why she’d fallen asleep, why he’d
left her asleep
, and what impression precisely does that leave on a teenage male, anyway?  She finger-combed her hair, forcing herself to breathe deeply.

“It’s no big deal, we’ll make it back,” he reassured her quickly.  “I… Should I have woken you up right away?  I didn’t know, and you looked really tired, so I just couldn’t bother you.”

“No, no!  I’m sorry.  That’s so rude of me.” 
Weave that web.  Oh crap, I was on his goddamn lap!  Even if he’s the nicest guy alive, crap!
  Reaching for her purse, she slung it quickly over her shoulder.

“I don’t mind. I think I crashed out for a few minutes, too.”  Andrew was shutting everything down, clicking buttons and tugging on his jacket as if nothing had happened.  But something did happen – in her mind, anyway.

I fell asleep?  But I can’t…

“Should I take any garbage?” she asked nervously.

“Nah, just grab the door?”

She obliged, holding it wide open as he deposited the pizza box into the bin across the hall.  She watched as he locked the suite up, his hands steady and slow.  No fear.  She envied him that, envied the poise.  It also reassured her. 
He’s not nervous or upset.  Maybe he really thinks nothing of it
? 

He couldn’t begin to fathom the significance of this event.  Nor did she want him to. 

With a casual smile, he led the way down the side stairwell, backpack over his right shoulder.  It slapped lightly against his back as he jogged down the steps, humming an unfamiliar tune to himself.  She followed close behind, rubbing sleep from her eyes. 
Calm down.  Friends don’t judge friends for falling asleep
.  But she judged herself, condemned her guard falling away, jugular laid bare.

“Ugh, here come the drunks!” Andrew said, gesturing across the quad.

A rowdy group of seniors – mostly male – were jostling each other, hooting and loudly singing what Autumn figured was
supposed
to be "Pumped Up Kicks", only the words had gone horribly awry.  Andrew shifted position, moving to her left and thus wedging himself between the group and Autumn. 

“From past experience, I’m going to suggest something that you can feel free to decline,” he whispered.

“What’s that?” she asked timidly.

“Let me hold your hand until I get you back to Ashbury.  They’re out for female groping.  I know these guys.”  He stressed this last part, his brow furrowed in worry.

She knew these guys too – knew their kind.  Without hesitation, she took his hand, fingers lacing between his and gripping him tightly.

“I think I’m glad we skipped this dance crap,” he grumbled, shaking his head as the group accosted two junior girls crossing at the opposite end of the quad.  “And why didn’t they take an escort from the Safe Student program?”

His concern was genuine. His hand gripped hers a little tighter, his pace quickening as he cut a large swath around them, still making a fairly direct move towards her residence.  One of the group glanced their way, whistling and jostling his friend.  Her throat swelled in terror, but she managed a faint whisper.

“Arm around me?”

Andrew understood, immediately releasing her hand and throwing a protective arm around her shoulders.  She leaned into him as they walked, chanting to herself. 
Leave us alone, leave us alone
.  For such a goddamn expensive school, where was security?  The place should be crawling in guards, watching out for this crap. 

“I hope Veronica’s okay.”

“Evan would kill those guys if they looked her way,” Andrew said firmly.  “His ex, Jenny?  This guy copped a feel once and tried a second time while she was screaming at him.  Evan nearly broke his hand.  Evan’s a chill guy, but if you hurt someone he cares about, run.”

Violence usually upset her, but self-defense was a whole other matter.  Veronica was in good care, then.  A glance behind them confirmed that the group had lost interest in her, moving on towards the other senior male residence. 

“They’re gone.”

Immediately, Andrew’s arm fell away, but his hand found hers anew.  “Just in case there’s another idiot brigade.”

It was a minute’s walk to the front doors of Ashbury, but she clung to him all the same, memories of predatory glances and false smiles haunting her mind.  Better to be safe.  And he was safe.  Andrew was safe. 

They broke apart as they stepped onto the well-lit steps, Autumn fumbling in her purse for her FOB.  Andrew’s body relaxed instantly and it struck her then just how fearful he’d been for her.  She remembered how he’d spoken of the group – how he’d stressed knowing them – and her stomach turned. 
They’re seriously bad news if he was that worked up
.  Good thing she hadn’t declined his escort.

“Thanks for hanging out with me,” he said quietly. “It was far more fun than working yet again on my film.”

“Thank you for inviting me.  And for the brownies, even if they did put me in a sugar coma,” she added, trying to brush off her snoozing as something mundane.

“No problem.  We’ll do it again sometime.”

“Sure.”

Silence.  Seconds became hours, became minutes and seconds again.  A part of her screamed inside, reaching out for warmth. 
I don’t want to say goodnight!
  Her other half questioned this voice’s sanity, disbelieving this weakness, this
emotion
welling up inside her.

“You have any plans tomorrow?” he asked abruptly. 

Autumn hesitated.  “Not sure.  Veronica will probably want to talk my ear off at some point.  Why?”

“I’ll be around, and I could use time away from homework.  More
Maury
, maybe?  Dinner?  You’ve got to eat sometime.”

Icy fingers gripped her throat as another voice echoed him in her head. 
Dinner?  You’ve got to eat sometime
.  It was what
he
had said, after the dance.  The same day she’d learned that Fiona was in the hospital, not yet comprehending who she was: a twin in suffering.  One more doll in
his
broken collection.  She unwittingly flinched, edging up the steps. 

He’s not him!
  But it was no use; the dam began to crumble beneath the weight.

“Autumn, what did I say?”

He looked so pained.  Why was he wasting his time on her? Why did anyone bother?

“It’s not you,” she blurted out, desperately clinging to composure.

“Then what? I don’t understand.”

Wincing at his guilty face, she pinched her leg hard, shaking her head.  “It’s a fucking ghost.”  With a formless curse, she shook her head clear of
his
smiling face.  “A ghost that won’t die.”

With this pathetic explanation, she bolted inside, storming up the stairs and pushing past clusters of gossiping girls in gowns, the roaring ocean in her skull crashing over and suffocating her.  Her shoulder connected with a hapless bystander on the third floor as she rushed to her room, hand trembling as she jammed the key at the lock in desperation.  It was coming: time fell away and colours swirled to reveal darkness incarnate inviting her inside its haven.  She didn’t bother with the light, instead locking the door and throwing herself dizzily at her bed.  Sobs shook her body as she clung to her pillow, feet kicking the bed in frustration as she spun and gasped for air. 

Ativan.  Pills.  A hand fumbled in her purse as she bashed her head against the cool sheets. 
Come on come on come on… 
This was a bad one.  She felt it coming, felt the air expel from her lungs in a
whoosh
, felt his fist connect again and again.

Under the tongue it went.  Life preserver.  Just like the song.

He knew.  Her Andy knew.  And for that, he couldn’t remain in her life. 
He
would find him. 

He would kill him
.

Another ghost piped up, sobbing softly within the walls behind her.  For once, it didn’t bother Autumn.  A sad mutuality, they wept in unison until restless sleep claimed the living of the two.