Autumn Getaway (Seasons of Love)

by Gracen, Jennifer

  Lydia saw the soft glow of pure love, pure joy, and pure happiness in Melanie’s face, and wondered if she’d ever feel like that again. She had a feeling she may not. She had a sinking feeling that she would grow old alone. She would have her son with her until he went off to college, and then she’d be truly alone in the world…

  Melancholy hit with a vengeance. The sadness overcame her suddenly, washed over her in a wave of emotion so powerful and unexpected that it left her feeling weak-kneed, and she gripped the back of the chair next to her for support. She held on to it like it was a life preserver.

  The DJ cheerfully invited the wedding guests to come to the dance floor to join the happy couple. As people started to get up from their chairs and heed his request, Lydia whirled around sharply and started to walk. She heard Kathryn call her name, but didn't heed her. The bar was in the far corner by the windows, and she headed for it. She ordered a vodka gimlet, which the bartender quickly made for her, and took a long, hard swallow. The bartender had made it strong; she felt the alcohol burn down her throat and welcomed it. She’d never been a big drinker, but at that moment, all she wanted was to drown the gloom that had come out of nowhere and now was threatening to drown her. She downed almost half the glass, then shuddered from it.

  “What’s with you?” Donna asked, appearing at her side. Concern was clear on her face.

  Lydia shook her head. “Nothing. It's nothing.”

  “Nothing, my ass,” Donna scoffed as Kathryn, on Lydia's other side, asked the bartender for a cosmopolitan. Donna took a second to ask the bartender for an apple martini before turning back to Lydia. “Spill. Now.”

  “I’m having a drink, isn’t that what you wanted?” Lydia said a bit sharply. She was so tired of talking about herself. She was so tired of thinking about herself and her boring, sad life.

  “Your face got pale,” Kathryn told her. “For a minute there, you looked… stricken. Like you might cry. Then you flew to the bar.”

  “I’m fine,” Lydia said sternly. “Just… I’m fine, okay?”

  “Okay,” Kathryn said, but her soft gaze remained filled with worry.

  “Liar,” Donna muttered under her breath.

  The bartender returned with Kathryn and Donna’s drinks, and asked Lydia if she wanted another one. Already feeling a slight buzz, Lydia declined.

  “What the hell?” Donna asked her.

  “It’s early yet,” Lydia said. “I don’t want to get too drunk too early. It’s a long night ahead. I'd like to be more numb, but I don't want to be sloppy and stupid.”

  She turned to look at the many couples on the dance floor for distraction. She could barely make out Melanie and Ryan, they were so surrounded by people. Then she spotted a couple by the edge of the floor, towards the left. Sam was dancing with a blonde woman in a tight black dress. Lydia didn’t recognize her. Sam was smiling down at her cordially, and the woman was talking to him. The blonde was easily three or four dress sizes smaller than she was.

  Sam laughed at something the woman he held said. Lydia felt strange… then she realized, to her horror, that she was a little bit jealous. She knocked back the rest of her drink. She felt the alcohol flame through her. The beginnings of self-reproach surged through her head. She had absolutely no right to feel jealous or possessive in any way. Sam wasn’t her date. He wasn’t her anything. She was ashamed of herself, hotly embarrassed.

  She turned back to the bartender and ordered another gimlet.

  “What the hell?” Donna said, eyeing her. “Jesus, you’re all over the place. What happened to not getting sloppy drunk too soon?”

  “Changed my mind,” Lydia snapped, not looking at her friend.

  Kathryn sighed. “Won’t you talk to us?”

  “We’re here to have fun, right?” Lydia said tersely. “So let’s do that.”

  Donna and Kathryn didn’t answer, just exchanged looks of concern. But when the bartender returned with Lydia’s drink, she only held it. She knew deep down that the buzz she was already feeling was pretty strong, and to finish the drink she had now would have her more drunk than she wanted to be, as she’d said aloud before. “I’m going outside. Want to join me? You don’t have to.”

  “Do you want us to?” Kathryn asked with hesitance.

  “No, she doesn’t,” Donna said, looking closely at Lydia.

  Lydia pressed her lips together, hard. Expelled a harsh breath. “I think I just need a minute to get myself back together. I don't know what hit me, but… damn. I'm sorry, girls.”

  “Oh, stop it. Go outside. Just don’t disappear, alright?” Donna asked.

  “I won’t,” Lydia said. “I just need some air, something else to look at.”

  “Go,” Kathryn urged.

  “But if you’re not back in a little while,” Donna warned, “we’re going to look for you and drag you back in here.”

  Lydia just nodded, took her drink, and turned away, heading for the French doors that led to the veranda. She’d left her handbag at the table, she didn’t care. She just walked, not stopping until she was outside, free. She took a few steps, then her breath caught in her throat as she stared in appreciation at what was left of the magnificent sunset. Brilliant streaks of pink were splayed across glowing rays of orange, indigo, purple—she hadn’t seen such a beautiful sunset in a long time. She went to the edge of the patio and leaned on the flat stone railing to admire it.

  It was just about twilight, and the trees were black silhouettes against the radiant sky. She inhaled the crisp autumn air, which had turned cooler with the descent of the sun, and marveled at the sight before her. She took it in and tried to think of nothing but the mesmerizing view in front of her, tuned in to the serenity of nature and tried to clear away her dark thoughts. She heard one song turn into another inside the reception, muffled by the closed doors but loud enough to hear nonetheless. A few other people wandered onto the patio to look at the sunset, smoke cigarettes, or get some air. She ignored them all, just kept her eyes on the sky as the colors changed and deepened. She wrapped her arms around herself as the air turned cooler.

  She couldn’t fully shake the melancholy that had gripped her so mercilessly, so unexpectedly. Part of her didn’t want to. It reminded her of who she was, where her life was at the present time. To think of having happiness felt self-indulgent, inane, unrealistic, and useless.

  She thought briefly of her beautiful son. He was the only bright spot in her life at the moment, and even that bond was tinged with sadness, tainted by frustration. Would he ever speak normally? What lay ahead for him if he didn't? What lay ahead for her, at all? When she thought of the future at times like this, it seemed… bleak. It seemed inevitably lonely, and hard. It seemed like all she would do was struggle, fight for everything as she always did; but at the end, she’d likely wind up alone anyway.

  She hated when this glum scenario crept into her mind and took over, which it sometimes did. She had really hoped to get away from her life for just a few days, use the long weekend as something of an escape, and up until now, she had managed to do that for the most part. But there were some things a person just couldn't get away from, no matter how hard they tried or how much they wanted to. You can't get away from who you really are, she thought. Something her mother used to say zipped through her mind, in her mother's voice: “You take yourself with you wherever you go.”

  She snorted and shook her head at herself in defeated resignation. Well, here she was, in a virtual paradise, and in one vulnerable moment had reverted and given in to her morose, self-pitying, frightened leanings. She sighed and bowed her head. She was so sick of it. Even on her escape, she couldn't completely escape.

  What she would give to somehow kick start her life into a more positive place, a better chapter… but she knew it had to come from her. The biggest changes would have to come from her. Nowhere else. Something felt ready, she was on the verge of being able to embrace that and do that, but still… she tried to quiet her mind. She stared back up
at the sky, at the fading colors.

  She calmly sipped her drink after a while, after her initial buzz had dulled a bit. She wanted to maintain the warm tingle, but not increase it. Getting stupidly drunk wouldn’t help anything, or change anything. She wanted… God, she just wanted to have some fun for once. Let all her worries go… let herself go…

  “Lydia?”

  Not expecting to hear her name, she whirled around, ripped from her thoughts. Sam was standing a few feet away. His dark eyes seemed serious, but he gave her a cautious half smile.

  “Hi,” he said lightly. “What are you doing out here by yourself?”

  “I needed to be alone for a bit,” she said in a quiet, flat voice. She didn’t have the energy or patience to come up with a more clever answer or a witty response.

  He blinked at her tone. “Oh. Okay… well, I’ve been looking for you.”

  “You looked busy to me,” she blurted, instantly angry at herself for saying it. Idiot! she screamed at herself.

  His thick brows furrowed in confusion. “I was?” His head cocked slightly as he tried to decipher what she meant.

  Lydia just shrugged and sipped her drink, grateful to have something to do with her hands so she wouldn’t strangle herself.

  Sam kept looking at her, thinking, until comprehension quickly dawned and lit up his face. He couldn’t hold back the twinkle in his eyes, the tiny smirk that twitched at the corners of his mouth as he said, “You saw me dancing with Carrie.”

  “Who?” Lydia asked.

  “Carrie. The blonde in the black dress. Right?”

  Lydia gave a quick nod, shrugged again with all the nonchalance she could muster.

  Sam stepped towards her, stood very close. His smirk turned into a flirtatious, teasing smile as he purred down at her, “Look at you. You’re jealous. That’s so cute! I’m flattered.”

  “Easy, killer,” Lydia scoffed, but couldn’t look him in the eye.

  “Come on,” he goaded, the laugh lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes. “Admit it. You saw me dancing with Melanie’s friend, and you turned a little green. C’mooon.”

  “So what if I did?” Lydia challenged, abandoning pretense.

  Sam reached for her free hand. He pulled it upwards, held her cool hand in both of his against his chest. “Are you kidding? I love it.” He edged forward, until only a few inches separated them. He stared down into her face and said softly, “I'll admit it: in another circumstance, if I hadn’t met you first, I might have let Carrie keep flirting with me. But I kindly turned her down. I’m already…”

  Sam stopped, carefully considering his words. When he realized he was unable to adequately express what he wanted to without sounding too forward, he instead focused on her eyes, her face, and slowly lowered his head towards hers. But he felt her stiffen under his hands ever so slightly, minutely, and stopped himself. He scrutinized her features. Her eyes were… guarded. Whatever had bothered her enough to send her outside on her own hadn’t run its course yet; she was not as open and relaxed in his presence as she’d been before, he could sense it.

  Sam pulled his head up, released her hand, and took a step back. He shoved his hands into his pockets and offered a non-threatening grin. “How about you come inside? Give me that dance you promised me?”

  She looked up at him, obviously taken aback by his sudden shift. “Now?”

  “Yes, now. Please. You're the only one I want to dance with tonight. That's why I was looking for you.”

  Her warm smile was her answer. She put her drink down on the stone railing. When he took her hand and gently pulled her along to walk with him, she didn’t resist. But when they entered the ballroom, a faster, 70s disco song was playing, the bass of it thumping from the speakers.

  “Not exactly what I had in mind,” Sam admitted, speaking loudly enough for her to hear him over the pulsating beat.

  “What, you don’t dance to fast songs?” Lydia asked. Even though she practically had to yell back at him to be heard, he got that her tone was teasing.

  He grinned and shook his head. He lowered his head to say into her ear, so he wouldn’t have to shout, “Slow songs, absolutely. Fast songs, nope. Not unless I’m good and drunk. Sorry.”

  “Okay, I’ll remember that,” she replied.

  He glanced at her. She still seemed a bit uptight. He wanted her to relax around him again, and he wanted to get her in a better mood. He quickly realized what might help him on both of those fronts.

  “Why don’t we go sit with your friends?” he suggested, again loud enough to be heard.

  “Um, yeah, okay,” Lydia nodded. She discreetly slipped her hand out of his and turned to make her way to her table, where she’d spotted her friends.

  “Hey there!” Donna smiled up brightly at them. The table was far enough away from the speakers that they didn’t have to yell to hear each other, but they still had to be a little louder than normal conversation level.

  “Care to join us?” Kathryn asked.

  “That’s exactly what we thought we’d do,” Sam said, smiling his megawatt smile. Lydia sat down in her chair, and Sam pulled an empty one from the next table over, so he could be close to Lydia but still be able to talk to the other two women as well.

  “So,” Kathryn began. “You’re from Chicago?”

  “Yes,” Sam said. “Grew up in Evanston, a suburb right outside Chicago; that's how I know Ryan, we grew up together. My parents are still there, and Alec and his family, but I live in the city now. Have for about ten years. I'm in Lincoln Park. Where are you from?”

  “I grew up in southern Connecticut,” Kathryn answered, “but now I live outside of Baltimore, with my family. About an hour away, deep in Maryland.”

  “Baltimore’s a nice city,” Sam said. “I’ve been there a few times, work related. Stayed in a hotel at Harborplace, it was a good time.”

  “For work, huh?” Donna asked. “What is it that you do?”

  He glanced over at Lydia for the briefest second; he felt a sudden weight under her gaze. She was watching him with a neutral expression, but there was a hint of curiosity and a hint of steel in those golden brown eyes. He figured if she’d divulged to her friends he was from Chicago, surely she would also have told them what he did, as he’d told her… but instinct suddenly advised him that someone had told her the full story, not just the vague snippet he’d given her. Donna was fishing for her.

  Fine, here we go. “I was a graphic designer for a long time,” he said plainly. “But recently my position changed, and now I’m the Creative Director.”

  “Wow. That’s great. You must be a very busy man,” Donna said, smiling.

  Sam could still feel Lydia’s eyes on him. “It, um… it’s a big job, yeah. I like it, but the truth is I’m still not totally used to it. It’s very different from what I was doing before. I was more hands on before, now it’s… a lot of delegating, at times.” He shrugged and added, “Don't get me wrong, I’m not complaining. It’s just been an adjustment. I do like the traveling part.”

  “You do a lot of traveling?” Kathryn asked.

  “Not too much, but just enough to make it interesting. Mainly to either Los Angeles or New York, where the other two biggest branches of the company are. New York is the main headquarters, actually.” He turned to look at Lydia and shot her a light smile.

  “Really?” Donna pounced. “Isn’t that something? How often do you go to New York?”

  Lydia chuckled and shook her head. “Damn, girl.”

  “What?” Donna asked, wide-eyed with feigned innocence. “I’m just asking a question.”

  “I go a couple of times a year, actually,” Sam said, grinning at Donna. He liked her style.

  “Where in New York, Manhattan specifically?” Donna asked. “You know, Lydia lives in New York, on Long Island, not too far outside the city.”

  Lydia could only shake her head again and laugh in resignation.

  Sam bit his lip to keep from laughing, but his face was li
t with amusement and his smile broadened. “Yes, Donna, I stay in Manhattan. Usually somewhere in midtown.”

  “Hmm,” Donna said, smiling widely as she looked Sam in the eye. “Fancy that.”

  Sam let out one short laugh and asked, “Where are you from?”

  “I was born and raised in Wrentham, Massachusetts,” Donna answered, “but now I live in Norwood.”

  “I knew you’d say Massachusetts,” Sam said. “Your accent’s a dead giveaway. It’s nice up there, too.”

  “Have you been to Boston?” Donna asked. “Or Providence?”

  “I have indeed. Several times to Boston, but only to Providence once.”

  A waiter came over to the group to ask if they wanted anything from the bar. They all gave him drink orders. Sam took the opportunity to glance over at Lydia. She was less than a foot away from him, but it felt like she was miles away. He gave her a tentative smile, a smile to just say hello. She smiled back, and her expression was welcoming. He relaxed a bit.

  “Do you travel abroad for work?” Kathryn asked him.

  “Um, not really,” he said. “Maybe once a year. The New York big boys usually handle the international stuff. But I have spent time in Europe, I backpacked across it.”

  “I always wanted to do that!” Donna said wistfully. “That is so cool.”

  “When did you do that?” Kathryn asked. “When you graduated college?”

  “No,” Sam said. “I was married very young, and my wife passed away. After she died, I took off for Europe, and I backpacked alone for over three months. Covered most of Europe.”

  The three women fell silent.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make anyone uncomfortable,” Sam said, his voice even and friendly. “I know it’s the effect information like that has. But it’s just facts; that was my life.”