TWENTY-FIVE
Junior high. Mrs. Elton’s third period History class. That was the day I met Autumn. Rory Callahan called me a filthy name, something to do with my oval eyes. I had never heard the slur before but knew from his tone it was meant to be an insult. Autumn decked him in the nose and got detention. When I asked her why she’d defended me, she answered very simply: “Because no one should be picked on for being different.”
She was the boldest thing I’d ever seen and I’d spent the next twenty years watching my best friend grow bolder, get tougher, endure more sadness than most folks. And now, sitting on Joe’s front porch, I watch my best friend say goodbye to Mollie and Layla and kiss that beautiful baby, Evie, like she’ll never see her again.
“Oh, you have to send me videos and pictures, every day.” Layla nods and Autumn ignores her to plant yet another kiss on Evie’s round cheeks. “I mean it. Every single day, promise, Layla.”
“I will. I swear, sweetie.”
They’ve been saying goodbye for twenty minutes.
I can only watch, not willing to move from the swing, ignoring Declan and Quinn huddled near the hood of the car with Joe, muttering things that are probably complaints about how long it takes us to leave each other.
They’d never understand. What man would? There is a bond women have. There is a union that occurs when time, when circumstance binds you to another person. Who else but a woman could understand the heartache of a lost love? The wrenching pain caused by a failure or rejection because of who you are? Who else but another woman could understand the dull weight of frustration when others set limits our minds can’t accept? When the world tries to enforce those limits? No man understands our sisterhood. How in the world could they understand what it is to let that bond go?
My thoughts weigh me down just watching Mollie and Layla crying with Autumn, making promises for texts and chats, visits on holidays. And finally, when they have exhausted themselves with tears, Autumn looks up at me, her smile twitching.
If I stay put, she won’t be able to leave.
If I don’t move, she won’t be able to say goodbye.
It is a juvenile response—digging my feet into the metaphorical ground in some pathetic attempt to keep my best friend here with me. I can’t find it in myself to care how ridiculous it is. I can’t be bothered with how my reaction may seem to the others.
Quinn nods, encouraging me to leave the porch and though his mild smile is sweet, beautiful, it doesn’t make me move. I think maybe Autumn will give up, settle for a wave and then text me from the car, but that doesn’t happen either.
She makes her way up to the swing before I can tell her to stop. If she sits next to me, that will be it. She’ll say goodbye and I will be left without my best friend.
I shut my eyes, squeezing them tight, trying to tell myself that the pain will ease. Most pain does. I try to convince myself that this farewell is not permanent. But I don’t know that.
The swing moves and that familiar scent—the one that reminds me of sleep overs and braided hair, over long weekends in our PJs and drunken parties with faceless rugby players— swirls around me one more time.
“Sayo.” There is no judgement in her voice, no admonishment that tells me she thinks I’m being a brat. Her tone is gentle and kind, and I realize that of the two of us, Autumn has finally become the adult. I may be older. I may have finished my education and set out on a profession before her, but right now, in this moment, Autumn is the one who truly grew up.
“Breakfast, every Saturday morning. What will you do?”
“Get up when Declan does and have a bite with him.”
I flash her a glance, horrified by the prospect. “With a boy? Breakfast is for besties.” My gaze shoots to Declan, laughing with Quinn, listening to Donovan’s animated story that keeps them all smiling, and I shrug. “I guess he’ll be good company. But God, Autumn won’t you get lonely over there? He’ll be practicing and doing matches all over the place.”
“And I’ll follow, when I can and when I can’t, we’ll adjust.” She leans forward, crossing her ankles before she rests her elbow on her knees looking up at me. “I’ll have Joe to keep me company when Deco’s not there.”
“I don’t like it.”
“I wouldn’t either if it was you leaving me behind.” She exhales, looping her pinky to mine with her voice lowering, sounding a little sad. “Aren’t you… aren’t you happy for me?”
My best friend had endured so much loss—Joe leaving her, her mother’s death, Tucker abandoning her after two years. It wasn’t until Declan stepped into her life that her smile returned and it hasn’t left her in nearly three years. I glance back at Declan who now leans against the car, hands in his pockets next to Quinn. They both watch me and Autumn.
All I ever wanted for my friends is even the smallest hint of joy. Mollie got that with Vaughn, despite the obstacles thrown in their way. Layla and Donovan got that when they finally stop getting in their own way. And Autumn, my sweet friend, she was the first to take what she wanted. She took a risk, the chance that she might not be loved back due to her past and Declan’s being so intertwined, the risk that in loving him might have caused too much pain.
And yet, my friends found their happiness.
“Of course I am,” I tell Autumn, knocking my shoulder against hers. “It’s just, God, Autumn you’re leaving me with Quinn.”
“Ha, friend, stop acting like that’s a burden.”
One quick smile at him and Quinn stops speaking to Declan, eyebrows up, curious. He was a conundrum, something that I wasn’t sure I’d ever figure out. Gone was the self-centered asshole who thought the world owed him a favor. In his place was a self-centered asshole who was learning that he owed the world a favor for getting him through a sickened childhood and the heartache that loving and then losing someone always causes.
“He told me last night that he never wanted to feel what he does for me.”
Autumn’s gaze is sharp and worried, but I shake my head, and ease her fear with my quick laugh. “He’s never had to worry about loving someone before. Well, someone who doesn’t claim to love him for all the wrong reasons.”
“It’s a new world for him.”
“Yeah,” I say, moving the swing with my feet. “And it’s ours for the taking.” I look at her and our eyes meet. “All of ours.” My best friend’s chin shakes as she watches me and I think of a hundred different things I could say in this moment—promises that might make her wonder if leaving Cavanagh really was the right thing to do. Scenarios to test her loyalty, challenges that encourage her to stay. But in the end, if we love someone, we always do what’s best for them, even if it breaks our heart.
“It’s yours. Just make sure you do us proud.”
“I love you,” she says, hugging me in a rush that catches me off guard. Autumn kisses me, whispers a dozen promises I know she’s good for and then we both leave the porch, arm in arm, at least until we reach the driveway.
Another round of goodbyes, more hugs and kisses and my best friend, her husband and father are off in Vaughn’s car with Mollie, all heading for their new lives.
“Going to be a bit weird here,” Quinn says, nodding toward Joe’s house. “Me being the only one left behind, I mean.”
“Hmm, maybe you can throw a wild party. Get a bunch of girls over and…” he silences me with a kiss, one that has little Evie staring and Layla trying to cover her eyes as she and Donovan walk inside.
“I don’t want any other girls over here.” Quinn hugs me, kissing my forehead, the tip of my nose before he lands a soft kiss on my mouth. “You’re the only one I want.”
“And why is that?” I ask, knowing the answer but still loving the hearing of it.
“Will you ever tire of me saying it?” I shake my head, nudging him to repeat the same thing he told me two weeks ago when he admitted he loved me. Quinn sighs, shaking his head as he indulges me again. “You’re like a cigarette, Sayo. So bleeding bad for me and you get stuck, inside my chest. Everything inside me absorbs you and you fill me up.” He’s repeated it so often I could practically mouth the words before he speaks them, but I let Quinn continue, closing my eyes when he runs his fingers down my face. “You stay there, among the bits of me that are dying. The difference is, you heal it all. You clean away all that darkness.”
“And that’s why you want me? Because I keep you clean?”
“No, love. I want you because you made me catch peace. You made me realize how much I wanted it in the first place. I want you because I love you. Isn’t that enough?”
“More than enough.”
And it was, with him. I’d stay with Quinn because he drew pictures that brought life to Rhea’s hope, because he’d given a dying girl the last bit of happiness left to her. I’d stay because Quinn had drawn me in curves and lines without shadows, with nothing more than who I really was. I’d stay because the hope we held between us was caught up in memory, in love and loyalty.
He says I made him want it, that it was me that had him catching that serenity. Really, it was there for us both, wanting to be held, waiting for us to hold it in our hands.
The End