Tripping on a Halo: A Romantic Comedy

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Tripping on a Halo: A Romantic Comedy Page 19

by Alessandra Torre


  “WAIT,” she said plaintively. “I’m working with Declan.”

  “It’s true.” He smiled up at Autumn’s sister and felt a stab of pain at the familiar features, the glimpse of what she would look like in five or six years. “We may have a new associate on our hands.”

  He thought of his secret project, one he was working on during late nights in Autumn’s room and between Aldrete project drafts. A house, designed for her. One with a scrapbook room with giant windows that overlooked a garden. A giant doggie door, big enough to accommodate a getting-bigger-every-day pig. A master suite with room enough for two.

  Ansley wandered over and looked over his shoulder at the sketch Paige was creating. It looked like a scribbly blob that could double as a doctor’s signature. “Oh, yes.” She leaned forward, her hand resting on her knees. “I see. Very intricate. Is there going to be a living room?”

  Paige looked up at her with a blank expression. “OF COURSE.” She jabbed the tip of the pen on the right side of the blog. “It’s right here.”

  “Ah.” Ansley nodded. “And your bedroom?”

  “Here.” Paige added a curly-Q of a circle to the top of the scribble.

  “And what’s this?” Declan pointed to a big looping area, filled in with a bunch of dots.

  “That’s Auttie’s room.” She smiled. “It’s bigger so it can hold all of her machines.”

  His chest squeezed painfully and he glanced at Ansley, their eyes meeting over the top of the little girl’s head.

  “And these”—the tiny glitter-tipped finger tapping at all the little dots in the area—“these are her angels, watching over her until she wakes up.”

  Ansley’s eyes brimmed with tears and she leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the top of Paige’s head and bringing her into her chest.

  “So?” Paige wiggled out of her mother’s arms and fixed Declan with a stare that was impossible to run from. “Will you design it for me?”

  He swallowed and gave her his best smile. “Yeah, sweetie. Of course I will.” He met Ansley’s eyes and she smiled, taking a deep breath.

  “Now,” she said. “Who is ready for turkey?”

  He wasn’t. The thought of food and family, of sitting down at their table without her … it made his stomach cramp. But he couldn’t look into Paige’s beaming face, her sweet ability to include Autumn in all that she did, without putting on a mask and playing along.

  He smiled. “I’ll be right behind you guys.” Picking up Paige’s drawing, he ran a hand over her room for Autumn, then carefully opened his notebook and tucked it into place.

  December

  Dear Autumn,

  It doesn’t seem right, celebrating our first Christmas in a hospital room. Still, I did the best I could. A drunk girl in a karaoke bar once told me that I had a sexy singing voice, so I tried a few lines of Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas. It wasn’t half bad, honestly. Had your panties been anything other than hospital-issued Teflon, they would have combusted. Also, small confession: I peeked at your panties. Then your breasts. I couldn’t help myself. I missed them. I kissed them. I promised them all sorts of filthy activities by the time next Christmas rolls around.

  You can’t see the lights, but they’re strung all around the room. Janice, your night nurse, is a real bitch when it comes to most things, but even she smiles when she walks in and sees the colorful glow. We snuck in a tree, which is hidden in your closet, but is dripping with every ornament that Paige and Caleb could find, and more than a dozen that they’ve made.

  I went to my dad’s for dinner. He’s dating this woman who reminds me a little of you. She’s quirky. Loveable. Caring. Extremely messy, which Dad has somehow managed to overlook with a smile, and that’s a new look on his face. I gave them all of your updates, and the latest doctor’s report. You probably don’t know, but he comes in with me sometimes. He’s real quiet, so if you’ve heard a lot of stoic grunts, that was him.

  I miss you. It sounds crazy to miss a person after such a short time together, but I do. I miss you in a way that hurts my gut. I’ve beat myself up for every missed opportunity with you, but promise you—swear to you—that I’ll make it up to you. You’re going to be so sick of me when you wake up. You’re going to be researching restraining orders and privacy fences and you better lock up your trash cans at night, because I have it on good authority that stealing someone’s recycling is a straight ticket into their heart.

  I opened your gift earlier and set it next to your bed. Spoiler alert: it’s a baby monitor. The best they sell. It has a range of six miles, which easily covers the distance between my house and your room. During the day I leave it in my living room, so you can listen in on all of the interesting sounds that Mr. Oinks creates. I apologize in advance for his assortment of farts, but I know that each one will bring a smile to your face. And at night, you can listen in on the super exciting sounds of me cooking dinner, and watching TV with him, and going to sleep. I’d let you listen in on my more erotic activities (all solo of course) but Nurse Janice is already eyeing me like a prize pie in a county fair, so I don’t want to fan that flame any brighter.

  I don’t ever want you to be alone and I hope this helps. I hope it gives you a sense that we are in your life, because you are always in ours.

  I love you, Autumn.

  Merry Christmas. Next year is going to be our greatest one yet.

  January

  The engagement announcement was buried on the third page of the Lifestyles section, right next to the obituaries.

  Mr. and Mrs. Jeffrey Capp of Orlando, Florida are pleased to announce the engagement of their daughter Nicola Capp, to Dr. Frederick Stokes, originally of Waco,Texas. Ms. Capp, a graduate of Florida State University, is a beverage curator for a local restaurant. Dr. Stokes is a graduate of the University of Florida, and practices psychiatry at his office in Tallahassee, Florida. A March wedding is planned.

  Declan read the announcement twice, then he tossed the paper back on the top of the trashcan, dumping his coffee cup into the can and heading for the door.

  “So, that’s it? No reaction?” Nate grabbed the paper and followed him out the door, weaving around a group of suits and jogging to catch up.

  “I’m happy for her.” He stepped onto the crosswalk and glanced over, meeting Nate’s worried eyes. “Honestly.” He glanced at his watch. “Now, come on. The cupcake store closes at two.”

  “I’m not going to lie, I’m a little freaked out by your laissez-faire attitude about this. And maybe I wouldn’t be if we weren’t heading to the birthday party of your unresponsive girlfriend.”

  Declan stopped suddenly and turned on him. “She’s responsive. Last week there was a spike in her brain activity. I told you this.”

  “Right, the spike.” His face softened. “I just don’t want you to get hurt. Again.” He lifted the paper. “Nicola’s moving on. Maybe—”

  “Don’t even fucking think about finishing that statement.” He snatched the paper from Nate’s hand and shoved it into a trashcan. “I don’t want Tinder, or to screw Jenn from the reception desk, or to go out and get drunk with a bunch of sorority girls you saw on Instagram. I want to eat a fucking cupcake and sit with Autumn, and tell her what a complete dipshit you are.”

  “You don’t want to date other people, fine. But have you thought about what will happen if she does wake up? What might really happen?”

  Nate’s words cut deep into his biggest insecurity. “You think she won’t be interested in me.”

  Nate lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “It’s just that you’ve immersed yourself into this world where she is your everything, and I’m worried that she might wake up and…”

  “And I’ll be nothing to her.”

  “Yeah.” Nate’s face softened. “I’m just watching out for you. You know that.”

  He knew that. He just couldn’t face that reality. Not right now. If and when it came to that—he’d deal with it, and accept whatever role she wanted to cast hi
m in. Even if that role was just as her friend.

  Nate reached forward and hugged him, the contact brief and strong. “Look. Forget I said anything. And tell her about Nicola, okay? Maybe she can work some voodoo magic and get the bitch to choke on her wedding cake.”

  “Deal.” Declan pushed away from him and glanced at his watch. “But we need to—”

  “Get to the cupcake store. Yeah. I got it. Let’s carpe diem the shit out of some icing-topped chocolate ones.”

  February

  Dear Autumn,

  I’ve never been a big fan of Valentine’s Day. But it’s provided me the opportunity to write you a letter, so I’m secretly enjoying it on the inside, much as Mr. Oinks and I enjoyed an entire pan of heart-shaped ravioli last night, courtesy of your sister.

  Mr. Oinks misses you. He likes to chase me in the yard. Eats everything in sight. Accepts belly scratches without complaint, and has no problem sleeping on my chest (he’s getting really heavy) but I can see it in his eyes. He watches the door a lot. Perks up at the sight of Ansley, but then seems to deflate when he realizes it isn’t you. I’ve got a plot to sneak him in here one night, but it’s going to take a little more buttering up of the staff before I can make it happen.

  Tonight, I have big plans to drown you in gushy stuff. Not that roses can compare to your garden, but I swapped out your normal vases for a set of long-stemmed roses. Don’t worry, I’m still spending my Saturdays at your house, keeping all of your plants alive. The gardenias are looking a little sad, but everything else is surviving. Getting back to tonight’s big event… I brought two movies that Ansley swears are your favorites. One is The Proposal, and the other is While You Were Sleeping. The latter seems a little morbid, seeing the similarities between your condition and his, but Ansley says it has a happy ending, so I’m game if you are. I’ve also got the biggest box of chocolates that Godiva sells, and I have big plans to eat any that you don’t, so I hope you brought your appetite.

  I miss you. I love you. I hope, wherever you are, that you come back to me soon.

  Love, and Happy Valentine’s Day…

  Declan

  March

  “Did you see the article?” The blonde nurse, the one who normally worked days, came to a stop in the middle of the hall, blocking his way.

  Declan’s first thought was that the article was about Autumn. His gaze dropped to the Tallahassee Democrat in her hands, and he wondered how long she had been standing there, waiting for him to arrive. The headline read COMING TO TOWN and showed a photo of him, Nate and Benta, at her new site. He took the paper from her and flipped it over, surprised that the article ran past the fold and onto another page. It detailed their work and showed a digital rendering of the complex. Six months of hard work, and they finally had a complete set of plans. From now on, the execution of the plans would be in the contractors’ hands. The article would be good for business, though their calendar had filled up already with referrals Benta had sent over. She had barely set foot in this town, yet already seemed poised to take it over.

  “You can keep that copy. I brought it for you.” She followed him as he walked toward Autumn’s room. “I’ve got another one in the break room that everyone’s reading. You’re a local celebrity!” She giggled.

  A local celebrity? The piece had been an advertorial, the placement bought and paid for by Benta’s company. He passed the paper back to her. “Here. I’m sure my office has some of them.” A press piece with Nate’s photo on it? He’d probably wallpapered the office with it. “How’s my girl?”

  Her face faltered, and he came to a stop, imagining the worse.

  “Did something happen?”

  “Oh, no. Nothing has changed. Nothing.” She gave him a soft look. “Have you spoken to her doctors? Her condition is—”

  “Strong.” They hadn’t used that word, exactly, but that was the sense he got. “She could wake up at any moment.” Dr. Jeffers had said that. When Declan had pressed, he had confirmed that possibility.

  “Right.” She paused by the nurses’ station, and he hated that look on her face. It was as if she’d already written Autumn off in her mind. Didn’t she see? Didn’t she realize, as she cared for her, that there was a person inside that body?

  He moved past her and opened the door to Autumn’s room, stepping inside and pulling it shut behind him.

  She wasn’t the first woman who had been friendly. The hospital staff had taken him under their wing, some in a more predatory fashion than others. He seemed to be a combination of sympathy case and prized acquisition, the dynamic unsettling. But not in her room. In her room, everyone seemed to leave him alone. In here, it was just the two of them.

  “Hey, baby.” He sat by her bed and lifted her hand, bringing it up to his mouth and kissing the inside of it. “I heard the craziest thing today. Back in 1998, a sixteen-year-old died from a heart attack brought on by a buildup of butane and propane in his bloodstream. Want to guess how that happened?”

  He gave her a moment to think, studying the quiet lay of her features. “Excessive use of deodorant sprays. He had an apparent obsession with personal hygiene.” That would have been a good story for her list of most embarrassing deaths.

  Reaching over, he turned off the baby monitor, silencing the sounds of Mr. Oinks soft snores. Leaning forward, he rested his head on her stomach and closed his eyes, inhaling deeply and trying to find her scent. It was there, hidden behind all of the hypoallergenic soap and medicinal scents. It was there, but faint. He fought to remember her laugh. He hadn’t really ever made her laugh. There had been chuckles. Some giggles. But a hard belly laugh was definitely in order, once she was up and about.

  He tightened his grip on her slack hand and listened to the machine’s comforting sounds. The steady beep of her heart. The whoosh of her ventilator. The hum of her circulation compresses.

  “I love you,” he whispered.

  But, like always, she stayed silent.

  April

  Declan & Autumn’s list of to-dos

  Uncontrollable, cramp-your-cheeks laughter

  A Pictionary battle

  Cooking dinner together

  Making love in the morning

  Skinny-dipping

  A dance by a campfire

  A confession of all of our secrets

  An early morning run walk

  Stolen kisses

  Giving Mr. Oinks a bath

  Building window boxes for more flowers

  Saturday morning laziness

  A candlelit dinner

  Cuddling in a hammock

  Kissing away tears

  Swimming in the ocean

  Smores at midnight

  A kiss at Niagara Falls

  May

  They ran, side by side, his stride easier than hers. When they made it to the top of the hill, Ansley pulled at his arm, shaking her head. “I need a break.”

  He slowed to a stop and stopped the timer on his watch. “You’re getting faster. Down a minute on your mile compared to last month.”

  “Really?” she wheezed. “I feel slow as ever.”

  He watched as she leaned forward, her hands on her knees. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” Ansley grimaced and straightened, twisting to the left, then the right. “Just getting old.” She nodded down the hill. “Mind walking for a bit?”

  “Sure.”

  Out of reflex, he glanced down the first cross street, the damage from the plane still visible. The damaged home had been scraped, and a new frame was already in place.

  Ansley stayed quiet, looking down at the road. He reached back, stretching his pec, enjoying the warmth of the sun on his face. It’d been a cold winter, unseasonable for Tallahassee. He’d had to cover all of Autumn’s plants and bring in all the pots. He’d even gotten a sweater for Mr. Oinks, much to Ansley’s disgust.

  He smiled at the memory, the sweater now in a landfill, Mr. Oinks enthusiasm for the piece rivaling Ansley’s. Apparently pigs don’t like to we
ar things. And, as Ansley so irritably pointed out, he had a lot of fat to keep him warm.

  “I’m pregnant.” Ansley stopped short and turned to him, shielding her face from the sun with her hand. “I haven’t… I haven’t told anyone yet, other than Roger.”

  He struggled to process the feelings that came, his surprise and elation for her mixed with a wave of sadness. Over the last eight months, they had grown close—bonding over Autumn, united in their fierce protectiveness of her fight—and she felt like a sister to him, one he felt honor-bound to.

  “So, you haven’t told her yet?” He watched Ansley’s face as it crumpled, her shoulders rounding in and he reached out, pulling her into his chest in a hug.

  “I can’t. I tried. Three times I’ve tried. But I need her to know. To understand. Not to just lie there.” She choked out the words and looked up into his face, her eyes red and filled with tears. “I just…”

  “I know,” he said gruffly. “She’ll be so happy.” He held her against his chest, feeling her shake with quiet sobs, and wished he could take away that pain. She should be happy. They should be celebrating. He squeezed her tighter and tried to find the right thing to say.

  Autumn would know. Autumn would have a joke, and dance around, and spout off morbid statistics in the most adorable fashion possible. She would christen this baby as hers, and whisper against Ansley’s stomach, and meet Declan’s eyes with a playful and happy smirk.

  He pulled away from Ansley and fought his own tears at her grief.

  36

  JUNE

  In the afternoons, he read to me. We went through a dark period two months ago, when he took us through The Shining. I was torn between hating the book, and wanting to know what would happen next. Now, (thank God) we’d moved on to lighter reading material. Ansley recommended a new contemporary fiction novel, and though he pretended to hate it, I knew he was dying to find out what secret Jocelyn’s husband was keeping.

 

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