An Autumn Dream

by Melissa Giorgio

  Stupid school.

  It was Friday, which meant tests in three of my classes, gym class (how I despised gym), and no best friend to complain to because she had woken up “sick”. How convenient that Penny’s boyfriend Harrison was also sick on the very same day. Wish my dad would let me be sick more than once every ten years (and I had already used my precious and rare sick day last month, helping Rafe kill Fishface and rescue Bo the kitten).

  I bombed my tests. All of them. I don’t even know what they were on. Dreaming about Mom, and then waking up in the middle of the night, unable to fall back asleep, had distracted me to the point where the lines on the paper just floated around in undecipherable black blobs. It sucked because I had tried to be a good student last night (Rafe was rubbing off on me) and actually wasted my time studying, only to flunk them anyway. Grr…

  Speaking of Rafe, that was another bad thing about today. Not Rafe himself, he was never bad, no way. It was the fact that I couldn’t see him because he had some afterschool program involving volunteering and I don’t know, probably building a house from scratch in one day or something equally ridiculous. The boy was nuts, especially considering he was sacrificing Very Important Gabi Time to fill up an already bloated college resume. Honestly, all the schools needed to do were watch him play baseball and they’d fall on their knees and beg him to come to their school. But he didn’t listen, although he did feel guilty about not seeing me, especially when I didn’t have to go to work.

  Not having to spend a shift at the Corral staring at the clock and glaring at customers was about the only good thing about the day.

  At least school is over, I thought glumly as I dragged my feet through piles of brown and orange leaves. Chloe had detention (what else was new?), so I was stuck walking home by myself. Normally I’d welcome the solitude, but today my head was filled with Mom, and I wished I had someone next to me, distracting me from thinking about her.

  There was a slight breeze, and I shivered, tucking my colorful scarf more securely around my throat before shoving my hands in my pockets. My schoolbag, mostly empty because I wasn’t in the mood to do homework this weekend, hung at my side, bumping into my back each time I took a step. The block I was walking on was deserted, but a car passed by occasionally, totally oblivious of me and the dark thoughts in my head.

  Mom. I could go weeks, months without thinking about her too much, but all it took was one stupid dream that I couldn’t even fully remember upon waking, and suddenly I was nine again, my excitement over visiting Disney World for the first time quickly souring when I walked in on a red-eyed Dad and instantly knew something was horribly wrong. I hated that my dreams had such a choking hold over me. How they could take my normal (okay, relatively normal) life and throw it all out of whack. Like, “Haha, you had a nice day with Rafe, now let’s make you remember how much Mom leaving hurt you!”

  Yeah, it hurt. It hurt a lot. It was like she had suddenly woken up one morning and decided she hadn’t wanted to be part of the family anymore. Who does that? Who just up and leaves, grabbing one small bag and scribbling out a quick note to her husband? Did we really mean that little to her? I thought things had been good, more than good even, but I was only nine. What did I know? I was more concerned with dressing up my Barbie dolls and watching my favorite cartoon shows on TV. Maybe my parents were having a hard time getting along, and I hadn’t even noticed. It wasn’t like I could ask. I had tried, when she had first left, but even as a child it was impossible to miss the hurt reflecting in Dad’s eyes. Scared, I gave up. I had already lost one parent; what if my questions pushed him away, too?

  Another car drove by, startling me out of my thoughts. If the driver had noticed me, he or she must have thought I was deranged. I was standing in the middle of the sidewalk, totally spacing out as I remembered my childhood. But I was in no mood to return to my empty house just to sit around, feeling sorry for myself. The house I was standing in front of had a brick wall; I walked over and leaned against it, sighing deeply.

  Across the street, a pretty blue colonial home had already been decorated for Christmas. I said already, but it was the last day of November. The Corral was already bursting with tinsel and tiny blinking multi-colored lights, and holiday music was pumping over the loudspeakers. At home, we were a little slower when it came to decorating. And we didn’t go crazy, either. No inflatable reindeer decorated our lawn, nor did we put a tree in every room. No, just one live tree in the living room, a couple of wreaths on the windows, and that was it. When Mom was still here, we went all out.

  Mom again. I guess there’s no escaping her today. I slid down the wall and sat down, right there on the cold concrete and piles of leaves. Usually I’d be freaking out about getting my jeans dirty, but I couldn’t bring myself to care at the moment.

  Mom loved Christmas. She started decorating the house the moment Halloween was over, sometimes starting Halloween night, in between Trick-or-Treaters. She had boxes and boxes of stuff, and it took her over a week just to get everything up. When she had finally finished decorating, and I wandered from room to room, pointing out my favorite decorations from years past and gaping at the new additions, I imagined that was what Santa’s workshop looked like. No, it was probably better than Santa’s workshop. I had been convinced he would take one look at everything while delivering our presents and decide he wanted to stay. I was always disappointed when I woke up Christmas morning and Santa was nowhere to be seen, but then I saw the huge pile of presents and was immediately distracted.

  As if the heavily decorated interior, with a million little figurines and blinking lights and trees galore, wasn’t enough, Mom went crazy with the outside of the house, too. She made Dad help her; he was the one who climbed the ladder and stood on the roof, placing the lights exactly where she told him to as she observed from the ground, her hands on her hips. It was always bitterly cold, and Dad would complain profusely, but he always had a huge grin plastered on his face as he wrapped the lights around the chimney and asked her opinion. Chloe and I were allowed to decorate the porch, which usually consisted of wrapping garland around the railings and placing light-up figures on the steps. When we were done, we would all stand in front of the house in the dark, each of us with a cup of hot chocolate, and Mom would count down as Dad plugged the extension cord in. Our house would blink on in a flash of light, complete with music, and Mom was always the one who cheered the loudest. I remember watching her, thinking her sparkling eyes and wide grin were even brighter than the lights on our house.

  I had been so happy then! If only I had known we would only get a limited number of Christmases together. I would have seized every single moment, committing them to memory instead of focusing on whatever stupid presents I hoped Santa would bring. As a kid, you spent your time wishing the days would fly by; I wished someone had warned me not to do that. I wish I had been told the happiness wouldn’t last. There was so much I would have done differently.

  My cell phone began vibrating and I reached into my pocket, digging it out. Rafe’s cute face was on the screen, and, despite my heavy mood, my heart still skipped a beat. “Hey you,” I said. “Aren’t you supposed to be curing the world’s hunger problem or helping old ladies cross the street? You know, doing things that you, for some bizarre reason, figure are more important than seeing your girlfriend?”

  “Haha,” Rafe replied dryly. “See, that’s really funny that you would say something like that since I’m sitting in front of your house and you’re not home. And here I was thinking you’d be moping around, pining after your boyfriend…”

  I sat up straighter. “Wait—what? You’re sitting outside my house? Like a stalker? Why? You finished your unnecessary extra-credit assignment already?” He probably had built a house, too, using only one hand and no nails or something like that.

  “No, it was canceled. And since I knew you missed me so much, I came to see you. Aren’t I the best boyfriend ever?”

  “Only if you brought dessert with y
ou.”

  “Gabi,” he said in a scolding tone of voice. “Please. I know you. You would slam the door in my face if I arrived empty-handed.”

  “Absolutely.” I meant to giggle, but it came out as a sigh. Which Rafe heard, of course.

  The teasing tone left his voice as he asked, “What’s the matter?”

  “It’s stupid.” I leaned my head against the brick wall, closing my eyes. “I had a dumb dream about Mom last night and my whole day has been screwed up because of it. School sucked, I had no one to talk to, and…”

  “Where are you?” I could hear the concern in Rafe’s voice. He knew all about Mom, and how I got whenever she was a part of the conversation. He completely understood the aching hole in my heart because he had a matching one in his, having lost both of his parents to a demon.

  I squinted through the rapidly fading sunshine to asses my location. “Oh, I’m right around the corner. I stopped to…think.”

  Rafe didn’t respond, but I could easily picture the frown on his face. He probably thought I had lost my mind, and for a good reason, too. What was I doing, sitting on the ground staring at Christmas decorations? At least I hadn’t started crying. That would have been bad.

  “What are you thinking about?” he finally asked.

  “Just things.” I heard someone walking through the fallen leaves, making the swishing, crackling noise I always associated with autumn. I looked up to see Rafe rounding the corner, phone to his ear. “Oh, I gotta go. My stalker is here.” I hung up my phone, and Rafe did the same with his before handing me a white paper bag. Peering inside, I saw two large chocolate chip cookies nestled amongst wax paper and smiled. “My stalker has good taste in dessert.”

  Rafe sat down next to me, and I scooted over so I could rest my head against his shoulder. He was wearing a fleece jacket, which was very unusual for Mister Furnace, and the soft fabric felt nice against my cheek. That mixed with the familiar smell of his favorite cologne made me close my eyes and breathe deeply. For the first time all day, I felt at ease.

  “Missed you,” I mumbled against his shoulder. “I’m sorry those people aren’t getting their new home, but I’m glad you’re here.”

  Rafe laughed quietly, and I felt the vibrations through my cheek. “I wasn’t building a house! Just passing out some flyers for a food drive next week, but they had the wrong date on the flyer, so they told me to forget about it.”

  “I knew you were curing world hunger!”

  “Just trying to help out.” He took my hand in his, entwining our fingers together. We had been dating for almost two months now, and I still marveled at how natural it felt to hold his hand. The way our fingers fit together so perfectly, it was like we had been doing it all our lives.

  “Isn’t saving the world from demons enough for you?” I tilted my head back so I could see his face.

  “You’re probably going to find this hard to believe, but sometimes I do enjoy doing something that doesn’t involve chopping someone’s head off.”

  “You’re right.” I shook my head. “I can’t believe that.”

  “Gabi!”

  I pushed him with my shoulder. “I see you when you’re fighting. You love it!”

  “I love making the world safer,” Rafe corrected me. “I love giving someone else the chance I never had. The chance to…” He broke off and looked away, swallowing hard.

  “The chance to grow up with their loved ones still around,” I finished for him.

  “Exactly.” Our eyes met, and I saw sympathy in his. “Want to tell me about your dream?”

  That required sugar. I reached into the bag to remove a cookie before passing the bag over to him. After taking a large bite and swallowing, I said, “It’s so dumb. I have a dream, she’s in it, and when I wake up, the only thing I can remember is that I dreamt about her. And just the thought of her there, running around in my head, is enough to ruin my day.”

  “I don’t think that’s dumb,” he answered, brushing some crumbs from his lap. “When I dream about my parents, it makes me sad.”

  “When I dream about Mom, it makes me angry.” I picked a chocolate chip off of my cookie and rolled it between my fingers. I stared hard at the chip, afraid to glance over at Rafe and see disappointment on his face. “You probably think I’m such a bitch for saying that.”

  “Why would I think that?” He tapped my foot with his. “She left you guys. Of course you’re going to be angry about that.”

  “Because…” Popping the chocolate chip in my mouth, I paused to gather my thoughts. I needed to figure out a way to say what I wanted to say without hurting him. “With your parents…” I shrugged my shoulders helplessly, the words not coming as easily as I had hoped. “My mom is still alive, out there, somewhere, with probably a new life and a new husband and new kids. She’s alive, Rafe, and there’s a chance I may see her again, while you…”

  “Will never have that chance,” Rafe finished for me. “Our situations are completely different, though, Gabi. If my parents just left one day, instead of dying, I’d be mad at them, too.”

  I took another bite of my cookie and contemplated this as I chewed. He was right. But I bet other people who had lost their parents like Rafe had wouldn’t be so generous. Rafe always got me. I wasn’t sure why I was so lucky to end up with a guy who got me and all of my stupid quirks, but I was forever grateful. “Do you think she thinks about me?”

  “I’m sure she does. How could she not?”

  “I don’t know,” I said bitterly. “How could she leave in the first place?” I winced at my sharp tone and made to apologize, but Rafe waved it off. “I just can’t imagine her caring, is what I mean…If she cared, she would have stuck around. Or at least explained things to me and Chloe, left us a note, something!” My voice had risen into a shout, and I forced myself to take a few calming breaths before continuing. “If she was unhappy with Dad, why didn’t she just divorce him and move out and keep in touch? Why—no, how could she just leave like that?”

  Rafe shook his head as he crumpled his wax paper into a ball. “I don’t know, Gabi. I hope someday you’ll get to ask her this yourself, to help give you some closure…”

  So many times, I had wished Mom back to do exactly that, but deep down, I knew what would happen if we ever met face-to-face. Instead of giving her a chance to explain, I would scream at her, so she knew exactly how much she had hurt me.

  “But, you know, you don’t completely hate her,” Rafe said, finding my hand again. I put the uneaten half of my cookie back in the paper bag and leaned my head against his chest. “You wouldn’t be in the garden, spending so much of your free time making it beautiful. I know you, Gabi,” he added in a teasing tone. “You would have set the place on fire if you wanted to completely destroy all ties with your mom.”

  “You’re right.” He was. Dad and Chloe had wanted nothing to do with the garden, leaving it up to me to weed and plant and rake. And I had never once complained about it. I loved being out there, getting my hands dirty, watching the flowers bloom and the vegetables grow. If I had abandoned the garden, let the weeds take over and the plants die, then I would have lost my very last connection to Mom.

  Actually, I thought, staring at the Christmas decorations across the street again, not the last one.

  “Come on,” I said, pulling out of his embrace and standing. “I need to show you something.”

  ***

  “This is a lot of stuff,” Rafe observed a few minutes later. We were standing in the middle of my attic, surrounded by boxes labeled, “Christmas decorations.”

  “I know, she was nuts,” I replied, opening up the box nearest me. My heart skipped a beat at the sight of decorations I hadn’t seen since Mom left. Picking up an angel holding a candle between clasped hands, I smiled. “Do you know how long it took to put everything up?”

  “I can only imagine.” Rafe wandered over to another box and opened it to peer inside. “Wow. You guys went all out, didn’t you?”

 
; “What did you do for the holidays?” I dug through the box, unearthing angel after angel. “I remember these guys! We used to put them over the fireplace in the living room…”

  Rafe pulled out an incredibly tacky bright pink wreath and laughed. “We had a tree. It was fake and small and we had a couple of boxes of ornaments we reused every year. My dad was too busy hunting to bother decorating, but my mom felt bad and put the tree up for me.” He smiled again. “But I think she did it for herself, too.”

  I pictured young Rafe, gathered around the tree with his parents, eagerly awaiting Santa. It was a nice image that was also bittersweet. By the age of twelve, Rafe no longer had a family to celebrate Christmas with. At least with me, I still had Dad and Chloe. “What did you do…after?” I directed my question to the cardboard box in front of me and the angels inside. When he didn’t answer, I wondered if I had overstepped and pried too deeply. Last time we had discussed his parents in detail, we had both ended up crying. I didn’t want to ruin Rafe’s day again with my heartless questions, but before I could tell him to forget about it, he spoke.

  “I went to California with Evan and his parents,” Rafe said. “At the time, they lived in New York, but they were originally from California and returned every chance they had, until finally, they just stayed. Evan would go back for the holidays, and I’d go with him. Until he started dating Alex, anyway. Then he hung around in New York, sneaking behind her parents’ backs to see her.”

  “He left you alone on Christmas?” I demanded, ready to punch Evan in the face next time I saw him.

  Rafe laughed. “It’s okay. There’s always something to do in Manhattan for the holidays.” His eyes lit up. “We should go to the city this year!”

  That sounded awesome, but we always went to Vermont to see Dad’s family. I didn’t have the heart to tell Rafe that, not when he looked so excited. Maybe Dad will let me stay home this year? Haha, yeah right. Hell would have to freeze over, thaw out, and freeze over again before he ever let me stay home so I could partake in what he probably figured were illicit activities involving my boyfriend. Still, it didn’t hurt to ask. Until then, I’d keep the Vermont trip to myself.