by Sasha Hibbs
I leaned my head against the window, watching as we passed light after light. Mary knew me better than I knew myself. I had only been to Mary’s house once, but as we pulled in, there was something welcoming and homey about her small house that made me wonder why I hadn’t spent more time there. She dug to the bottom of her purse for her house key. Finding it, she unlocked and opened the door, and flicked the lights on.
“Come on in, honey,” she said, hanging her jacket and keys up by the door. “I’ll get you some hot chocolate. That’d be good for you.”
I slipped out of my shoes, wiped at my tears, and curled up on her couch. A few minutes later she emerged from her kitchen holding a pottery mug filled with steaming hot chocolate. She set it down on the coffee table in front of me and took a seat on the adjacent recliner. I thought my tears were done, but as I looked into her gaze—one that could always see right through me—I felt small and vulnerable. I gave way to more tears. Through my clouded vision, I saw her stand and then I felt the couch seat dip as she lowered herself beside me. She wrapped gentle, understanding arms around my shoulders and let me have my long, hard cry. When the tears had gone and I thought I regained some control of my voice, I opened up to things I sensed she already knew.
“Mary, this hurts so much,” I said, rubbing circles across my chest over my heart.
“I know, honey. I know.”
“A few weeks ago Mickey and I planned on waiting ’til graduation, and then we were going to live together. He gave me a ring, Mary. I thought we would even get married. I don’t know, really, what it all meant. But I want to go to college, not because my parents always wanted me to, but because I genuinely wanted to go. I still do. I tried and tried to talk Mickey out of the gambling, the fights. I didn’t know how we were going to survive without the financial support of my parents, but I was willing to give it a shot. I told his mom, his uncles … I told them everything. Not for selfish reasons, I swear. I only wanted to protect him, save him from himself.”
She let the torrent of all the weeks of angst leading up to the final hurt spill from my lips. She listened intently, silently, and with the motherly ear I needed most. I told her the truths about Mickey I’d learned, the troubled history, the pain they all refused to confront. She patted my arm in an empathetic way. She leaned back against the couch cushion and let out a soft sigh.
“It breaks my heart to hear you hurt, but there’s only one thing that can heal this kind of mess.”
“What’s that?” I asked, a dull ache starting to take hold at the base of my skull.
“Time, and lots of it.”
“Do you think he will ever forgive me?”
“Mickey’s not angry with you, Autumn. He’s angry at himself, angry for having everything he believed in his whole life snatched out from underneath him in the blink of an eye. He’s angry his father is dead. Angry that all this time had his mother set aside the damn Italian pride she resented so much from her own mother and the inability to forgive, they wouldn’t have had to struggle the way they had all these years since his daddy died. Tonight, you took away any reason he had to be angry. But know this, when you’re drowning your entire life, it’s not easy to adjust to fresh air. You’ve spent your entire life fighting to breathe. You don’t know any other way. You give him time and he’ll come around,” she said, a sad smile at the corner of her lips.
“I don’t know, Mary. You didn’t see him … the look on his face—”
“You stop right now, Autumn,” she said, squaring her shoulders back with a stern look. “It’s not like you haven’t lived through some traumatic events yourself. Any relationship is a two-way street. That boy has got to be willing to meet you halfway.”
“Maybe I’m stronger than him,” I said weakly.
“You listen to me,” she said, a brow shooting up sharply. “You are only seventeen and Mickey’s only eighteen. I have no doubt that you both sincerely feel about each other the way you say you do. But the both of you are putting the cart before the horse. Marriage isn’t something you rush into. I’m not trying to hurt you, Autumn. But you’re too damn young for that kind of talk.”
“But I love him so much.”
“And I believe you. I believe Mickey feels the same way, that’s not what’s in question here. Have you listened to anything I’ve said?”
“Yes.”
Her face softened then. “Love is a beautiful thing, Autumn. There’s so little of it in this world, that no one should ever dim the flame of a burning candle. But timing, honey, timing has everything to do with the success of that love. Mickey’s trying to get back what he lost through you.”
“What do you mean?”
“His father died when he was just a kid. No eighteen-year-old boy who was right in his mind would want to run off and get married. He’s got a whole world of hurt that he has to work through and get right with himself before he can be right with anyone else. You two running off and getting married is only more ignoring problems than it is actually fixing anything. He wants to recreate what he lost. I believe that you remind him of the same situation his mother found herself in. She was a girl from a rich family who fell in love with a poor boy. And while I believe he loves you for reasons other than those similarities, essentially the boy is so tormented about the past, that he’s trying to reconstruct history using his future and yours to do it, that somehow the both of you can make those terrible wrongs right.”
My head was swimming with doubt and uncertainty. Mary gazed at me intently, like she was trying to assess my ability to hear and believe what she was telling me. I didn’t want to trust what she was saying, but she was voicing the very fears I’d felt over the last several weeks. It was one thing to be at war with myself, to be conflicted and then suppress my fears, but to have them vocalized by someone else in this case only made me sadder than I already felt. Truths were hard to hear.
She leaned in and gently cupped my face with her hands. “Autumn, you’re young and have your entire life ahead of you. There’s plenty of time for marriage, careers, babies … there’s only one opportunity in this life to be a kid. And while I know you’re no child, you are still so young. You need to focus on healing yourself. That doesn’t just apply to Mickey, but you as well. Dear Lord … you’re only just graduating high school in a week. You still have college. If things are meant to be, they will always find a way to work themselves out.”
I looked at her, into her eyes, could see the sincerity and knowledge of years she had over me trapped there, but I wanted this acute hurt to go away. It felt like I couldn’t breathe. Trying to imagine my life without Mickey seemed too horrible to even consider as a possibility. But as the minutes passed, I knew they would turn into hours, into days, into weeks, and into years. How much time would he need? How much would I? How much before we could find our way back to each other? As Mary gathered an afghan blanket and I burrowed down into it, the thought that last went through my mind before drifting off into a tormented sleep was would we ever find our way back?
Chapter Forty-Seven
I had all week to prepare my valedictorian speech, but my mind had been preoccupied with so many other things. My mom was still in rehab. She was making great progress and Dad and I were even able to attend family counseling at the center with her. It was all part of us being able to mentally convalesce. There was so much hurt to wade through I had doubts at times that we would make it through to the other side without drowning first, but we were slowly trudging through, keeping our heads above water. I tried calling Mickey several times only to end up getting his voicemail. I texted him. Always nothing. I was answered by empty silence every time.
Friday night before graduation, I sat up on my bed, thinking of how to construct a graduation speech worthy enough to be listened to. I didn’t know how to shove past the hurt to write anything inspiring when I felt so heartbroken. I don’t remember when I finally caved into my fatigue, but I fell asleep thinking about the people in my life, and the ones who o
nly came into it this past year.
My parents and the secrets they’d kept buried for so long. Cecelia Costello. The brothers who hadn’t shunned her, but in fact were shunned by her. The boy who’d grown up bitterly resenting the wrong people. Sweet Sean McGregor whose innocence had been shattered under the cruelty of elitist jocks who couldn’t fathom the abstract of loving someone more than themselves. I tossed and turned, thinking about Jay who lived as those same jocks, but something in Sean made Jay dare to dream beyond it. I thought of how all of our lives intertwined. We were all connected. It wasn’t about individual pain. We all had enough of that on our own. My speech needed to be about the whole of it and how one single act of understanding, or forgiveness, or loving someone in spite of his or her hatred could slowly peel away the layers of hurt and begin the healing process. I thought of Mary’s advice. She was right. We had to be at peace with ourselves, end the war of emotions within, and cut the evils out of our life before we could finally begin to live. We had to deal with yesterday so we could brave an uncertain tomorrow.
****
I tried not to let the acute heartache overshadow the significance of my senior graduation. I struggled all morning with the effects of it while getting ready, while hugging my dad good-bye before he left to get my mother, while tucking away my note cards before I left for the school myself. I called Mickey again and was met with the same silence as all my other attempts. I called Dakota and asked if he’d heard from him. He said that he had, but he had stuff he needed to work out, but he promised he gave Mickey my gift like I asked him. There was nothing more I could do. Time. That’s what Mary said. My newest project was learning to accept that, to be patient, to keep living if only for myself and my family. I would take each day one day at a time.
I parked in the senior lot at school and scouted the area for Mickey’s motorcycle. It was finally perfectly warm weather for him to drive it in. But the bike, like him, was nowhere in sight. I shut my door, secured my graduation cap with bobby pins, blew the tassel out of my eyes, and made my way to the football field.
I watched as the seniors lined up alphabetically except me. Nope, I couldn’t blend in like I wished to. I was going to be front and center. I would have to give my speech before we all received our diplomas. I scanned the side field for Principal Oliverio. Our eyes met at the same time. He walked toward me. I met him halfway.
“The ceremony will begin in ten minutes. Everyone is accounted for and parents are seated. We have everyone in the lineup and you’ll be needed at the podium,” he said with a look of so many other things he wanted to say in his gaze.
I nodded, paused, and dared to ask him about Mickey. “Is he here?”
Principal Oliverio gave a solemn shake of his head. “I’m afraid not, Autumn.”
“I understand.” I went to walk past him, but he laid a gentle hand on my forearm.
“Thank you for everything you’ve done. My family owes you immense gratitude.”
“You owe me nothing,” I said, clearing my throat of the knot that formed. “Whatever happens, I wish him and all of you the best.”
I gave him a brave smile and slid past him, making my way onto the stage. I took a deep breath and tried to compose myself. I had to get through today. I held out some small hope that I would see Mickey. It was our graduation and there was a small part of me that was hurt he would miss it. I couldn’t think about him, I couldn’t or I would never make it through my speech without breaking down.
I kept my head held high as I walked up to the podium. I pulled out my note cards and assembled them in order across the wooden top. I finally drew the courage to look out into the audience. I saw all the parents assembled there to watch their sons and daughters receive proof and confirmation of their hard work. This was their day, too. Amongst them were my own parents. When our eyes met, they both smiled at me. I spotted Mary sitting beside my mom. Seeing them gave me courage. There was a hole in my heart that couldn’t be filled with anything but the emotions that once filled it. Perhaps it would leave a scar. But my heart was big and seeing my parents and Mary reminded me that I had a family that loved me, would help me overcome and adapt.
Principal Oliverio gave the opening speech with all the decorum of someone who had been in his role for years. When he finished, he walked over and secured the microphone on the podium, adjusting it to my height. I glanced down at my neatly assembled speech, flicked my gaze back up, looking out over the crowd, took a deep breath, and then folded my cards up. I didn’t need them.
“I’ve agonized for days on how I could prepare a speech to summarize all of our lives from preschool to now. How could I capture all of our achievements, all the moments leading up to this one? And I stand before you now and I’ll answer that it isn’t possible for me to do so. As I look across the crowd I see parents, brothers, sisters … loved ones here to share in their child’s special day. As valedictorian, my day has no more or less meaning than those of my classmates. I will not attempt to rehash what we have all lived, but instead I want to talk about our future.” As I said this, I scanned the front rows and looked into the faces of my classmates and addressed them. I didn’t falter when my gaze landed on Daniel.
“Look to the person sitting on your right,” I said, pausing a few seconds. “Now look at the person sitting on your left. Do you know them? What are their dreams? How have they lived? What obstacles have they overcame to sit beside you today? What challenges will they face tomorrow? What can you do to help them? I’ll tell you,” I said, wrapping my fingers around the microphone, removing it from its stand. I came around the podium so I had nothing to shield me. “As a whole, we often make assumptions of others that turn out to be quite the opposite. Misery can live in wealth just as happiness can live amongst poverty. Those things don’t matter. It’s who you are, it’s how you treat others, it’s what you do today going forward that means something. It’s hard to stand up for yourself under the scrutinizing gaze of a prejudiced society. Be that person who does. But more importantly, be the person who stands up for someone else. Turn adversity into diversity. Be the hand that helps your weaker neighbor stand up. Believe in yourself. Believe in others. Always dream. Never give up hope. And don’t forget to live amongst it all.”
I returned the microphone to its stand while the audience clapped. I didn’t know how much of the applause was a formality and how much was genuine. It didn’t matter. If one person heard me, then I accomplished what I set out to do. I walked down off the stage and took my assigned seat.
The rest of the ceremony was a blur. I caught a glimpse of Mr. Romano out in the crowd with the other teachers. I wondered how he explained the bruises trailing up his jawline. I’d found out he lost against Leo, but had a feeling he never set out to win. He only set out to accomplish keeping Mickey safe. We all had. Where was he now? Had he thought of me with anything of the former feelings we once shared together? I had to stop doing this or I would drive myself crazy.
****
Both my parents and Mary were waiting on me after the ceremony ended. But there was one waiting with them that surprised me. He looked so different, changed.
“What in the world are you doing here?” I asked.
“It’s nice to see you too,” Jay said, giving me a quick hug.
“Jay called me the other day and wanted to know if he could come see you,” Dad said. “We have to go, so I thought it would be a good idea for you two to catch up.”
I smiled at my dad. He never said it, but I could tell he wanted me to have a friend, even if it came from the most unlikely source.
Mom moved out away from Dad and grabbed me into a tight hug. “We are so proud of you, and we love you.” The next part she whispered into my ear. “We’ll celebrate properly once I’m back home.”
I gave her a hug that no words could ever express. After hugs from both my parents and Mary, Jay and I left. We decided on a little pizza place a few towns over in Hepzibah.
“I think we’ll have a
large pizza with pepperoni and sausage,” I said, folding up my menu and handing it back to our waitress.
“It’ll be out in about fifteen minutes,” she said, tucking the menus under her arm, walking back toward the kitchen.
“You look good,” I said.
“Thanks,” Jay said with the smallest trace of sadness. Only someone who knew him like I did could detect it. “I wanted to come back and see you one last time.”
I nearly choked on my Coke. “Excuse me?”
“My aunt works for a large IT firm with agencies all over Europe. I’ve completed and passed my GED course. She’s secured a job for me, and I’ll be leaving in a week,” Jay said, leaning back in his chair.
“Jay,” I said, barely above a whisper. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Congratulations. Wish me well.” He smirked. “I’ll take any one of those.”
“So far? Couldn’t she get you a job in the states? What about college? What about—” I caught myself. I almost asked about football, about Sean, but the things he loved most were behind him.
He gave me a sad smile. “I requested a position over there. I can start fresh and maybe after I save up enough money, I can go to a university. I have the rest of my life to figure it out.”
I sat there staring at him for several seconds. He was changed. This was not the same boy who months ago chased after me because his parents pressured him to. This wasn’t the same boy who’d worn a high-school varsity jacket like the rest of the football team. This wasn’t the same boy who’d masked himself as someone he wasn’t under the pressure of peers who bullied those too weak to defend themselves. No, this was a man who was coming into his own after a long painful road of confronting fears and losing the only boy he loved. We both had that in common.
“I’m happy for you, Jay. Truly. I am,” I said, reaching across the table and squeezing his hand. “But promise me one thing.”
“Okay,” he said with a suspicious brow.
