Weston
In the space between us
A thousand unspoken words
Hang
A noose tightening
Around my throat
choking me silent
Heart bleeding
For autumn colors
Red and gold
And red again
Drowning in my
every thought
that is
for
you
I put down my pen and blinked at what I’d written.
I’d been working on the Object of Devotion poem a week now. Long stretches of absent-minded doodling, followed by bouts of writing, letting my mind spill onto the page however it wanted. Pretending the subject of these hopeless words wasn’t on a first date with my best friend. Or that I’d had a hand in orchestrating said date.
I read over the lines again, remembering what Professor Ondiwuje said about form—that how a poem looked on a page could have as much as impact as the words themselves.
My poem was arranged in a column. A scaffold of words with a lone you at the end, separated from the rest. The object separated from the devotion.
“Not too subtle there, Turner,” I muttered.
I flipped to a blank page to start over. I had a shit-ton of Econ reading on exchange rate regimes, but I couldn’t concentrate.
Are they hitting it off? Is she falling for him? Is he kissing her right now?
The front door opened, jarring me out of my thoughts.
“Hey,” Connor said. He shut the door without taking off his jacket and headed to the kitchen.
I glanced at the clock that read a little before eight o’clock—a solid three hours earlier than his usual date schedule.
“You’re early,” I said, keeping my eyes on my paper. “How did it go?”
“Different,” Connor said. He rummaged in the fridge for a beer, popped the top and leaned against the counter, a strange smile on his lips.
“Different, how?”
“I’m back before dawn, for one thing,” Connor said. “It was strictly dinner and goodnight.”
“Isn’t that what she told you when she agreed to go out in the first place?”
After she read my text.
“Yeah, it was.”
I shrugged. “She means what she says.”
“Yeah, she does,” Connor said. “She’s pretty hard-core with her double major and getting up at the ass-crack of dawn for a job that can’t pay all that well. And none of the stuff that usually impresses girls impressed her. She couldn’t give two shits about the Hellcat. We didn’t even kiss.”
My head whipped up. “You didn’t?”
Connor shook his head. “A peck on the cheek and I’m home by eight o’clock.” He laughed. “The sky must be falling.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him I was sorry it didn’t work out between them, better luck next time, other fish in the sea…but then a slow smile spread over Connor’s lips.
“But you know what? I really dig that about her.”
My jaw stiffened. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.” Connor whipped a chair out to sit across from me. “She is different. She’s not falling into my lap and I’m pretty sure she doesn’t give a shit about my money.”
“Yeah,” I said, slowly. “You’d never have to wonder if that’s all she cared about.”
“Right? She’s the kind of girl you have to work to keep. My parents would eat her up with a spoon.”
“But Con—”
“I know, I know, it’s not about them. Yet. I like her. I want to see her again.” His smile dimmed. “But it’s probably too late.”
“Why?”
“She was telling me about her ex. Some guy she’d been with for two years. Mark.”
“And?”
“He cheated on her.”
Which made Mark not only a dumbass, but king of the dumbasses. But Autumn had pride. She didn’t strike me as someone who’d volunteer such a painful piece of information on the first date.
“I’m sort of surprised she brought that up,” I said slowly.
Connor’s gaze slid away from me. “She didn’t. She said her relationship ended badly and I asked how.”
“Point blank?”
He nodded.
“Jesus, man.”
“I didn’t know what to say. I started babbling about keeping things casual and going to Lake Onota or some shit. She wasn’t happy.”
“Of course she wasn’t,” I said. “She told you something incredibly personal and embarrassing and you steamrolled over it.”
“What the hell should I have said?”
“That the guy was an idiot. You should have reassured her that she’s not going to get screwed over again. Or that at the very least, you respect her pain and you don’t want to add to it.”
Connor sagged and studied his beer bottle. “Yeah, that would’ve been exactly what she wanted to hear.”
Silence fell between us. My heart felt like it was being pulled in two directions—to helping Connor try again with Autumn, or to convince him to move on.
So you can take your shot?
“I wouldn’t mind something real with a girl, you know?” Connor said after a moment. “The hookups are fun, but I have a lot more to offer than money. And that stupid car. Jesus, I could’ve been driving a Pinto for all Autumn cared.” He looked at me. “No offense to your beautiful automotive trash heap.”
“None taken,” I said. Because Autumn wouldn’t care.
“When I told her about my sports bar idea, she said something amazing.”
“Yeah?” I asked, my voice low.
“She said she was going to go out into the world to help people, while I was creating a haven for them to come to. A haven.” He gave his head a short shake and put his beer bottle to his mouth. “My parents wouldn’t think like that. Ever.”
My pen scrawled along the blank page.
Haven.
Safety.
I give you my dreams for safekeeping.
“But it’s too late now,” Connor said. He drained his beer. “I fucked it up.”
I studied my best friend, whose inherent happiness was constantly beat down by the Drakes who wanted him to be something he wasn’t. Connor never wanted for anything in his life, but didn’t ask for much either.
He’s asking for her.
“What’s she doing now?” I asked.
“Autumn?” He shrugged. “I dropped her off at her place. Why?”
“Give me your phone.”
Connor fished it out of his jacket pocket and slid it across the table. “You have a plan?”
“Shh. Let me think.”
I opened the thread of messages with Autumn. My thumb hesitated over the key, and then I typed a textbook Connor Drake opener:
Hey. I wanted to tell you I had a great time tonight.
Connor brought his chair around to sit beside me. “You just broke my three-day rule,” he said. “Again.”
Autumn’s text came back. Me too.
Nothing else.
“Not exactly a ringing endorsement,” I said.
“Ha ha.”
My thumbs started flying.
And I completely fucked up.
“Dude,” Connor said.
“Shut up and watch,” I said.
What do you mean? she wrote.
What you told me about your ex caught me off guard. I couldn’t believe any guy would be so blind to what he had in you. But I didn’t treat you with the respect you deserved either. You put something personal and painful in my hands and I dropped it.
It’s okay, she wrote back and I could imagine her soft smile as she leaned her chin on her hand, the phone in the other, reading my words.
No, it’s not. He had two years with you and he threw them away. I had only one dinner, but it was enough to make me want to do better. To talk to you.
I hit send and bit my lip, brows furrowed. I felt Connor’s anticipation hanging over me, but he kept silent.
Thank you for saying so, Autumn wrote. I think I’d like that too.
How about we grab a coffee?
I have to be up early, remember?
I shot Connor a look. He shrugged and tried to grab for his phone. I smacked his hand away.
Decaf coffee.
:) but now?
Right now. Before you sleep and wake up and put me behind you. I don’t want to be there. I want to be in front of you, at least one more time.
“Too much,” Connor murmured. “She’s going to say no.”
“Shhh,” I hissed.
My heart was pounding like it did before a race. It wasn’t my race, but I was already halfway to the finish line and losing was not an option. I ran to win, even if it meant this time I’d lose. Hard.
Finally, the rolling dots of Autumn’s reply appeared. I held my breath.
I think Claire’s Café is still open. I could meet you there?
Warmth flooded my chest and my hand clenched in victory under the table.
Perfect, I typed. See you in a few.
See you then, Connor.
Connor.
His hand clapped my shoulder and the cold bucket of reality splashed over my ‘victory.’
“Holy shit.” He took his phone back and read over the texts. “You have a gift, my friend.”
“Yeah, well, study and learn,” I said stiffly, rising from my chair. I wasn’t dressed for running but my sweats and T-shirt would suffice. I went to the door to put on my shoes. “Read what I wrote to her and use it. And the comment she made about the sports bar being a haven? Tell her you’re still thinking about it. Tell her what it meant to you.”
Connor nodded. “I will. Because I am.”
“Good, because I’m not doing that again.”
“Why not? It worked perfectly.”
“It’s dishonest,” I said. “Autumn’s already been burned hard by dishonesty. If she finds out, she’ll never talk to either of us again.”
“It’s not all that dishonest.” Connor got up and grabbed his wallet and keys from the front table. “You just wrote what I was thinking but couldn’t say.”
No, I wrote what I was thinking and can never say.
“You’re on your own now, Drake.” I gave my shoelace a jerk and grabbed my phone and earbuds. “I’m going for a run.”
“Okay,” Connor said, sounding bewildered. “Hey, man. Thanks.”
I found a faint smile. “Don’t make her wait.”
I ran all the way down Pleasant Drive, past the shops and cafés of the small town. It was quiet for a Saturday night, and my thoughts were loud. I put on a radio app that tuned into the Amherst station. Over the eclectic mix of songs, I played my mantra:
Forget her.
Get over it.
Move on.
I ran to the end of town, where the lights gave way to dark swaths of uninhabited land. I stared out at the black nothing, turned around and headed back. The DJ in my ear announced the next song.
“Here’s ‘Ocean Eyes’ from the sixteen-year-old prodigy, Billie Eilish.”
I froze, hands on hips, listening and breathing hard as a young woman sang about a man she’d been watching from afar. How she fell into the depths of his eyes and his diamond mind.
I tore the earbuds out and paced a small circle, anger burning a hole in my chest.
“It’s me,” I said to the night. “It’s fucking me. Not him.”
I sucked in a deep breath. I had to tell Connor I had a connection with Autumn I couldn’t explain and if I didn’t admit it out loud, it’d burn me up from the inside.
I started to jog back to town, then ran. Hard. Another race, only this one meant more than anything I’d done on the track last weekend. I raced to Connor, to tell him the truth, and maybe he’d understand.
Or maybe he’d tell me I was too late…
I was too late.
From across the street, I saw them sitting at a tiny table at Claire’s Café, leaning into each other. Connor reached out and cupped Autumn’s cheek, drawing her closer so he could kiss her.
He kissed her.
They kissed.
Their first kiss, and I had a front row seat. Because I’d helped make it happen.
A cold lump settled into my gut and my skin shivered under the sweat of my run.
You made your bed, Turner. Now they’re going to lie in it.