Change Of Season (42 page)

TWENTY-THREE

Oakville; December 14
th
, 2011

Cross-legged on a large sofa, a stressed-out student, fed up with preparing for final exams abandoned her Math review, seized two pencils and began drumming along with AC/DC.  Textbooks and purse became her custom kit as she twirled and smacked her sticks against them in time.

Six more days of class, then freedom
. 

Clicking keys and grunts of frustration emanated from across the room, seemingly oblivious to her rock show slash procrastination.  As a creator, she knew the tell-tale signs of being in a zone and she dared not interrupt.  On with the show, then.

A Hello Kitty eraser became a songstress, head banging along with the catchy chorus while a stapler clattered together in pseudo-applause.  She giggled in spite of herself, mind detouring to old episodes of
Beavis and Butt-head
.

“Da, da, na-na-na!” she mimicked quietly, Hello Kitty oblivious to the whiplash she’d feel the next day.

“Math cannot be that bad, Autumn.”

Sheepishly, she glanced over at Andrew, Hello Kitty bowing her ribbon-adorned head.  “I’m sorry.  I’ll be quiet.”

With a shrug he pushed back from the monitors, spinning in his chair.  “I’m pretty much done.  The actual footage is edited and tweaked.  All that’s left is synching the score and preparing the final file for Gretchen.”

“Lucky bastard,” Autumn grumbled.  “I hate this crap, and Professor
Math
-yew is not exactly forthcoming when seeking extra help.”

“Lemme see.”  Andrew stretched his arms overhead, perching on the arm of the sofa.  “Ah, find the angle nonsense.  You’re not visually inclined, are you?”

Autumn sighed.  “Algebra is logical to me.  Equations.  Balance.  The right angles and completing the 180 degrees of a straight line is easy enough, but when the picture’s this cluster of intersecting lines and shapes, I get lost.”

“Well then, it’s very fortunate that your boyfriend specializes in angles.” 

“How so?”

“Lift your feet,” Andrew said, shifting onto the sofa and pulling her legs across his lap.  “Now, I shoot film.  When people watch a movie, they notice technical skill even if they can’t articulate it.  You may not know how to describe framing devices, but you’ll think a shot looks cool.  Lighting, great casting, great setting – all key.  But if you can’t anticipate the span of the camera’s eye, you’re screwed.”

“Angles of a different kind.  So fix my mathematical failings, Daniels.”

“Your problem is that you’re looking at the entire picture and seeing the whole.  You need to break it down.  Isolate it.  If your mind can’t do it instinctively, be a third grader like me and force it.”  Taking her ruler and scratch paper in hand, he laid them on the question page, obscuring all but a divided straight line.  “You know these.  One angle’s 110 degrees.  That makes angle A?”

“70.”  Autumn smiled, scribbling it in. 

The papers shifted, creating another straight line, divided.  “One half is 35 degrees.  Angle C?”

“145.”  Shaking her head, she added, “Why didn’t I think of this?”

“Because you’re a writer, not a visual artist.  Words are your friends.  All better?”

Autumn leaned forward, meeting him in the middle for a light kiss.  “Very.  I’m hungry, though.”

Andrew nodded enthusiastically.  “I could eat a rather large cow right now.  I’ll have to settle for my surprise instead.”

“Surprise?”

Andrew gently pulled her to her feet.  “I ordered in a while ago.  Just got the text from security that it arrived.”

“Your senior perks are freaking awesome.  What do we have?”

Reaching into his backpack, he tossed her a thin blanket.  “Lay that out and I’ll go get it.”

Autumn paused, tilting her head.  “A picnic?”

“Yes.  And?”

There was that goofy grin of hers again.  “Go get the food before I gnaw on your arm.”

"Double tap, zombie.  Double tap."  With a chuckle, he closed the door behind him.

The blanket settled nicely in the centre of the editing suite floor.  Autumn smoothed the corners before settling on it, back pressed against the sofa for support.  Had it only been five days since she’d chosen to let Andrew into her life again?  They’d settled into such a natural ebb and flow of banter and exchanged life philosophies, their evenings spent much the same as their first weeks.

Well, there was the kissing and curving of her body against his as she napped.  They had definitely evolved.

The door behind her swung open and she beamed at the welcome sight of pizza and wings.  Hands stretched upward, she took the food from him, setting it in the centre of the blanket.

“Napkins,” he added, yanking them from his pocket.  “Alas, no plates.”

“The box’ll do.  Hungry!”  Seizing a slice of pizza, she took a large bite, humming with satisfaction.  “You’re the best.”

“Nine out of ten professors agree that pizza is an ideal source of nourishment for finals,” Andrew quipped, grabbing a piece.  “And you’re welcome.”

“Pretty sure Professor Kearney wouldn’t agree.  He’s a health nut.  But he did have something to say about creativity.” 

“Oh, right!  You had that extra credit study today.”  Andrew polished off his first slice, immediately reaching for another.  “What was the topic today?”

Swallowing quickly, Autumn replied, “He’s looking into depression and its correlation with creative expression.  Given Casteel’s special attention to the arts, he’s got a nice guinea pig farm on hand.  Bipolarity has long been connected to creative types, but the common understanding is that productivity comes during manic phases.  Kearney thinks that natural bouts of depression can create similar cycles in teens, sort of like a reboot for creativity.”

“So the mind taps out, we crash, then spring back?  Hmm…  could be true.  Although I find my best ideas come when I’m at my lowest.  I just can’t act on them until I bounce back.”

Autumn nodded.  “That’s what I said, too.  Kearney figures that there’s a difference though between chronic mood disruption and the average person’s blahs.  So you and I may draw inspiration as a means of coping, but Sally Student powers off and struggles until the switch is flipped up again.”  Reaching for the wings, she shrugged.  “I’m thinking of taking the Introductory Psychology class next year.  Maybe I can figure myself out.”

Andrew nodded.  “We could shrink each other’s heads.  I’ll be doing my post-grad lap, but I could take a twelve.”

“And herein lies the downside to your senior status:  no classes together.”  Autumn pouted, waving a drumstick.  “But on a completely unrelated note, this is still the best barbeque sauce ever.”

“We have
this
time,” Andrew countered.  “I think we’re very lucky.  It’s our personal hideaway from the pleated skirts and prattling masses.”

Autumn laughed.  Andrew had been bombarded by questions after his performance the week prior and, much to his annoyance, renewed pursuit by several female Film students who’d written him off after his first year of social isolation.  Then, he’d met her for lunch in the dining hall and the gossip mill exploded in Michael Bay style as he impulsively kissed her.  She, too, found it daunting, but Veronica and Evan ran great interference between their enthusiastic endorsements of their blossoming union. 

“Okay, I’m sated, I think.  What about you?”

Autumn smiled.  “Belly locked and loaded for more torture.”

Andrew stacked the food boxes to the side, patting the blanket.  “Take five.  You can’t go swimming in sines and cosines immediately after eating.  True fact.”

“If you say so, it must be true!” 

She stretched out beside him, head resting on his chest.  A lazy arm wrapped around her waist as the music shifted to an old Massive Attack tune, soft and ethereal.  If only her bed could be so peaceful.  Nikki’s hijinks in the bathroom shattered the silence almost every night, yanking her from restless slumber.  Stifling a yawn, she contemplated a quick nap before tackling the next problem set.

“Sleepy?”

“You know me too well.”

A kiss on the top of her head warmed her to her toes.  “If you need to rest, let’s rest.”

She shook her head.  “No, I want to be awake.  I just don’t want to do math.”

“Fair enough.  What shall we do then?”

“Tell me something true,” Autumn suggested. 

Andrew chuckled.  “Someone is a Heath Ledger fan, I see.”

She blushed, burying her face in his sweater.  “He was so talented.”

“And pretty,” Andrew teased.

“He sang Sinatra in that film, and Joseph Gordon-Levitt’s also in it.  I can’t deny the eye candy factor.  You’re prettier, if it helps.”

“Your lies are a great kindness, and I happily believe them.”  Andrew squirmed as Autumn launched a tickle attack as punishment.  “Hey!  I’ll retaliate!”

Autumn stuck out her tongue.  “Stop spinning around my request and start talking, then.”

His eyes clouded over, lost in thought.  Hesitantly, she waited, wondering if perhaps she should let him off the hook.  When he slid his left sleeve upward, revealing a jagged scar spanning his forearm, she winced.

“You’ve heard about my parents, right?” he asked quietly.

Autumn nodded.  “You don’t have to tell me about that.”

“It’s okay.  I want to.”  His fingers tangled loosely in her hair, something he often did now.  “Summer of 2009, and there was sixteen year-old me, fresh learner’s licence in hand.  My parents wanted me to take lessons through Young Drivers, but it seemed like a total waste of cash.  I lost that battle, though.  Dad was huge on safety…”

Autumn nestled closer, reaching for his free hand.  He clutched it tightly, drawing it to his heart.

“I finished the lessons in Spring of 2010, and I took my driving test for the G2.  Passed it, no problem.  To celebrate, I wanted to drive my parents out to dinner at their favourite restaurant in Toronto.  They told me that city driving was tricky, but I had taken all those lessons.”  He sighed, shaking his head.  “I was a cocky fucking idiot.  A child.”

“Andrew…”  Her whisper seemed to echo in the tiny room, her eyes drawn to the raised and jagged slash across his arm.  She had a sickening feeling she knew how the story ended.

“This guy cut me off, and the roads were slick with rain.  I threw us into a spin, forgot all of my defensive driving… A car struck the back end, bent the door.  47 stitches and a tetanus shot for where the metal gouged me when I tried to pull them free, but failed and passed out.  Shock, they said…  And my parents died, because of me.”

Autumn pushed herself to a seated position, her hand reaching out to brush away the tear sliding down his cheek.  “It was an accident.  Even the most experienced drivers panic.”

Andrew shook his head.  “I still made a choice, and its consequences ripple out through my life, striking every corner of my world, everyone who knows me.  Their life insurance scarcely paid off their debts.  My aunt came along and promptly locked me away here mid-semester, feeling I needed discipline.  Ha.  As you know, I’m hardly one to obey the rules.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Andrew.  I know you won’t believe me, because I don’t believe what people tell me about my mistakes, but it’s true.”  With a faint smile, she added, “If you weren’t such a rebel, we never would have met.”

“You were so pissed when I grabbed you.”  Andrew smiled, shaking his head.  “Amateur.”

“Only to this campus, mister!” 

“See, that’s the advantage of the life sentence: I’ve had plenty of time to explore.  The holidays are perfect for it.  The staff pretend they’re chaperoning and those of us on campus pretend to make curfew.”

Autumn paused, weighing his words carefully. 
He doesn’t have anywhere to go for the holidays.  This is his only home
.  Anger rose within her, uncoiling like a cobra.  What the hell was wrong with his aunt?  How could she be so callous?

“I’ve depressed you,” Andrew said quietly.  “Should we call Kearney to test your creativity?”

Autumn shook her head.  “No, please.  I’ve had my fill of surveys and computer-prompts.  You’re just…  How do you do it?  Cope, I mean.”

“I’ve had almost two years to learn.  Some days are harder than others.  But when you least expect it, a light breaks through the darkness.  Or yanks you back into the murky depths to make out,” he teased.

“We could make out in light,” she demurred.

Andrew grinned, pulling her down beside him.  “I love it:  your creativity in depression is expressed as seduction.  I approve of Kearney’s research.”