Autumn
I hate hospitals. Although, that doesn’t really even begin to cover it. Hospitals are where people go to have their hopes and dreams sucked out of the marrow of their bones. It took me less than a second to realize where I was when I woke up. That smell of disinfectant and death. Nowhere else has that smell that permeates everything.
The last thing I remember was meeting Finn. Those deep blue eyes, I could drown in those eyes and be content. Of course what do I do when I meet the man that has unknowingly gotten me through my darkest moments? I freeze like a wombat in the headlights. Wombats are like me, they eat and sleep and hide in their burrows. Safe where no one can hurt them. Okay, so I might be a little obsessed with the Australian marsupial. One day, when I escape the clutches of the hospital and somehow get enough money, I’m going to travel to Australia and meet an actual wombat.
A nurse comes in shattering my dreams. She glances at my chart. “Do you remember what happened love?”
Eww, not one of those nurses. If I haven’t met you before, I don’t want to be called love or dear or pet. Autumn will do just fine. Of course I don’t actually say any of those things. It won’t get her to leave me alone, and I've been in this situation enough times to know.
“Yes, I fainted. Happens all the time. And no I don’t have a tumor or low blood pressure, or headaches, vomiting or nausea.”
“So this has happened before.”
I sigh. “Yes, many times. Can I go now?”
“Well, I think the doctor might want to run some tests…”
“Believe me, I’ve had plenty of tests. They never find anything, and I can’t afford to have you re-run them just so you feel better.” I know there are things they haven’t tried, but I can’t afford them so it doesn’t matter.
The smile leaves her face. “Right then, I’ll just let the doctor know.”
“Uh thanks. Do you think he’ll be long?”
“This is a busy hospital and you’re a low priority case, so you’ll just have to wait and see.”
Darn, I should have been nicer. Now I’ll be stuck here for hours. I just can’t handle going over the same things every time. This is why I don’t usually leave Longveiw. I like to think I live in Oregon because that’s where Infusion Deep calls home. Of course I’m really just across the state line, but I’m close enough. Not that I go to Portland much, it’s just nice knowing they live so close. Since my fainting spells started three years ago, I hardly even leave my house anymore. This trip was supposed to help me get past my anxiety. My doctor thought it would be good for me, and it was. I followed the band for most of this final leg of the tour and I was fine. At last I had started to hope I was cured.
When I finally met Finn, I thought it would be the start of my new life. One where I could become a functioning member of society again. Guess it was too good to be true. At least, I could always remember our time together. That would get me through a lot. If only I’d thought to take a selfie, like those other girls. It hadn’t felt right just to push myself up to him though. And he looked really uncomfortable the whole time. How those girls hadn’t picked up on that fact, I have no idea.
What I really need is to get out of here. If I leave now, I could probably still make the last two shows. Tonight’s was in Seattle, and then they have their final show at home in Portland. Perfect.
Four hours later, I’m still waiting and my chances of making the Seattle show are slipping through my fingers. Finally the doctor comes in. He’s young and looks like he’s been awake for a couple of days at least.
“So Autumn, I hear you want to leave us?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to stay overnight for observation?”
“No. I’ve been through all this before. I have no official diagnosis. Unexplained fainting with anxiety. I’ll go and see my doctor when I go home I promise. Can I go now?”
“Well…”
Sensing weakness I strike. “Look, I really can’t afford another night here. I’ll be fine, really. This is the first episode I’ve had in months. I promise I’ll drive straight home and stop if I feel unwell.”
“Are you sure you should be driving?”
“Yes, I can always tell when an episode is coming. It’s perfectly safe.” Hopefully he can’t tell I’m lying. Well, half-lying. Usually I can feel it coming on, but this time was different. I don’t even remember where I was when it happened. Not that I’m going to tell him that.
“Alright then, if you’re sure–”
“Thanks Doc, you rock.”
“Ah, thank you.” The Doctor gives me a slightly bemused look, but signs my release form.
After he leaves, I quickly struggle back into my clothes. I’m relieved to find my car keys and my purse in the tray with my clothes. Now I just have to figure out where my car is. It could still be at the venue, or maybe in the parking lot of my crummy motel? I run through a list of less likely possibilities as I head out the automatic doors.
A brisk breeze immediately causes goosebumps to cover my exposed arms and legs. My therapist would have a fit if she could see what I’m wearing. My tight dress barely covers my backside. She calls it my way of coping with my abusive step-father. I call it feeling good about myself. Although I don’t feel good now. My stomach rumbles as I look around the half empty car park for a bus stop.
Someone has parked diagonally across two car spaces. Wait, that car looks…could it be? My feet move of their own accord. The old white Ford Festiva is definitely mine. Did I somehow drive myself here? Realizing I have no way of getting an answer, I slide gratefully into the front seat. I pull the lycra skirt down over my thighs and turn the key. The car rumbles to life and I slowly ease out onto the road. Time to head for home.
Six hours later, I drive into the carport of my tiny clapboard house. Grabbing my bag from the car, I gratefully unlock the door and enter my oasis. Everything is immaculate as it should be. Too tired to unpack, I yank my dress over my head and burrow under the covers.
My alarm goes off at 7am. Time to get back to reality. The last few weeks following Infusion Deep on tour seem like a dream that’s already fading. Of course there is still the final show tonight. Should I go? Last night I relived meeting Finn, although in my dream I knew just the right things to say, and we got along so well he kissed me goodbye. Maybe in time, I’ll convince myself that’s really how it played out. That would make me even more of a loser though. At twenty-one, I should be dreaming of the future possibilities. Not locking myself inside my house and dreaming of falling for a rock star I can never have.
Stepping into my tiny bathroom I strip off my underwear and stand under the scalding water. After twenty minutes of vigorous scrubbing, I finally convince myself that the hospital smell is gone. Of course, I’ll have to wash all my bedding now as well. Drying myself off, I slip into my usual attire of baggy sweats. My wardrobe only consists of loose comfortable sweats or tight slinky dresses. Both are a way of hiding myself. Something two years of therapy has taught me. Apparently buying myself a pair of jeans would be vital in the healing process.
After a quick breakfast of toast and black coffee, I sit down at my computer. Time to get to work. Transcribing medical letters and reports means I can work from home. Perfect for the anxiety ridden, fainting-prone disaster I’ve become.
Three hours later I’m ready for a break. At 125 wpm, I have no shortage of work. It also means I don’t have any time to think. It’s not until I’m eating alone at my kitchen table that I think about tonight’s concert again. There’s no way I can top the last show where I was lucky enough to win a backstage pass. But how can I not go? Any chance to hear Finn sing, I can’t stay away.
Infusion Deep’s first album came out at a dark time in my life. When I thought I was alone, their songs told me I wasn’t. Someone else felt my pain – was going through the same darkness. I’ve read all their interviews, but Finn has never really said what those songs are about. Sure he’s said it was a bleak time in his life, and I know his father was an alcoholic. But I know there’s more to the story than he’s let on. I feel it every time I listen to the songs. He understands, I know he does.
At 5 o’clock I’m standing in front of my wardrobe. For the first time in forever, nothing appeals to me. I don’t want to wear a barely-there dress, but I can hardly wear sweats to a concert. The best I can do is a black mini dress with my thigh high black boots and I throw a black Infusion Deep t-shirt over the top. Still not really satisfied, but it’s the best I can do. Maybe I’ll actually go shopping for those jeans…