The Edge of Autumn

by Rachel Auld

  She smiled, a little shyly. “Well, I couldn’t really follow up a new car with something lame. I did see an awfully nice tie pin, though,” she joked.

  “Aw, man, that would’ve gone so well with all the ties I wear,” I teased back. Janine was coming along the back of the counter with our plates, so I gave Sara’s hand one last squeeze before thanking the waitress. I stared down at my fork, debating which hand to use—I wasn’t completely sure I could navigate with my left hand, but my right still looked pretty gnarly.

  Sara saw my misgivings and gave a short laugh. “Good luck with that,” she said, picking up her own silverware.

  “Yeah, yeah,” I muttered. “Such gratitude.”

  She cocked a brow at me. “Oh, I’m grateful you were there,” she assured me, “I just can’t believe you did that much damage to your hand. Have you ever hit anyone before?”

  I scowled down at my plate. “No.”

  “We should take a self-defense class together sometime. The college offers workshops one weekend a month,” she offered, smiling helpfully around a mouthful of pancake.

  With a sigh, I gingerly lifted the fork in my right hand, trying not to grip it too tightly. “I kind of hoped punching a jerk’s lights out was some kind of residual caveman instinct,” I replied. “I didn’t really think through the consequences.”

  “Oh, Travis,” she sighed, leaning her head on my shoulder. “You are adorable.”

  “Hmph,” I grunted, but my spirits lifted when I managed to get a forkful of French toast into my mouth without too much difficulty. I was determined not to have to ask Sara to cut my food for me, so I toughed it out.

  The rumors had been spot on; the food was phenomenal. We ate in appreciative silence, shooting each other sly, admiring glances from time to time. When our plates were almost empty, I noticed Sara exchanging a look with the waitress, who stood at the far end of the counter but slipped into the kitchen with a smile. I raised an inquiring brow.

  Sara responded with a broad smile but remained silent. After a moment, Janine reappeared, holding a small, chocolate-frosted cake with a single flickering candle stuck in the middle. As she set it down before me, she grinned at us both. “Should I sing?” she asked.

  I laughed and shook my head. “No, but thank you!” She winked and disappeared back into the kitchen. I eyed Sara closely before blowing out the candle. “You set this up?”

  She leaned over and kissed me. “I did,” she confessed. “I know it’s not as fancy as yesterday’s, but you should have cake on your actual birthday.”

  I couldn’t argue with that, so I handed Sara the knife, not wanting to ruin it with my reduced dexterity. She sliced into the little cake, splitting it into two giant pieces. With a laugh, I accepted my portion and we made quick work of the dessert. When we had finished, I reached over with my left hand and brushed a tiny smear of frosting from Sara’s lip. “Thank you,” I said to her, feeling my chest well with appreciation for her.

  “You’re very welcome,” she replied, eyes twinkling at me as she smiled. “And I’m sorry your hand is hurting.”

  “Psh,” I scoffed in my manliest voice. I lifted my hand, turning it to and fro in the bright fluorescent light. “I’ll be fine.”

  Sara looked unconvinced. “That’s a pretty impressive shade of purple, I must admit,” she said, studying the rainbow of colors marring my knuckles. The swelling had stabilized somewhere below inflated glove, I thought, but the ridge along the back of my knuckles was still puffed up into a dimpled mound.

  I nodded toward Sara’s sleeve. “What about you?” I asked, brows drawn down. She was clearly made of tougher stuff than I, it was true, but her wrists were so finely boned. I was afraid he might have broken something.

  Drawing up her sleeve, she surveyed the damage. Instead of intensifying, as mine had, her bruises looked like they had already begun to fade. “Wow!” I exclaimed.

  She gave a rueful grin. “I bruise easily but it usually fades pretty quickly. It doesn’t hurt,” she said, pressing gently against the area with her fingers. She winced. “Well, not much. Nothing broken, anyway. I’m not so sure about your hand though, do you need an x-ray?”

  I scoffed again, then grimaced. “No, it’s not broken. I think my pride is wounded more than my hand,” I joked. “His face didn’t even look this bad!”

  “Yeah, well, Jay’s always had a hard head. Aim for something softer next time,” she advised, taking a final sip of her drink. “Though I would pay good money to see his stupid nose break again.”

  We fell silent as Janine came by with our bill, tucked into a red vinyl folder. Sara snatched it with a glare when I reached for it. “It’s your birthday,” she scolded. “My treat.”

  I gave a long-suffering sigh. “Very well,” I conceded.

  She tucked some cash into the folder and kissed me one more time—this one lingering just long enough to leave me wishing it would never end—before hopping up from her stool. “C’mon, birthday boy,” she said. “We have one last stop to make.”

  I followed, puzzled. “Another stop?”

  “Mmm-hmm,” she replied, slipping her hand into mine. We waved to Janine on the way out and I gave the diner one last admiring look. I couldn’t imagine any future birthday ever coming close to this one. Sara knew me better than anyone in the world; I was enormously grateful for her, more than I could express.

  We meandered back to the car, drifting in and out of the pools of light from the streetlamps. It was now fully dark, though I could scarcely believe it was already after seven. The chill had intensified and I eyed Sara’s sweater, wishing I had a jacket to offer her. Once we were safely ensconced in the car, I fumbled with the heat controls, trying to figure out how to make it do what I wanted it to do. Sara giggled, enjoying my befuddlement. “Mom’s car only has two dials, dammit,” I muttered. That sent her into peals of laughter that warmed me more than the stupid heating system could.

  When at last I had it set properly, I turned to Sara. “I can’t believe there’s even more to the most insanely fantastic birthday date ever, but you’re the boss. Where now?”

  She gave me the very simple directions to our next destination and I followed them. As we turned onto a small side street, I frowned, wondering if this was the wrong one. “This is it!” Sara said excitedly, cutting through my doubt. “Pull in right here.”

  The nondescript building looked like a slightly rundown house to me, but as we got out of the car, I saw the “OPEN” sign hanging in the window. I couldn’t see a shop name anywhere, but dutifully took Sara’s hand and let her lead me inside.

  My mouth dropped open as we entered the room. The walls were lined with music posters from the past five or six decades, singers and bands and album covers. Tables were lined up along the length of the space, topped with crates full of CDs and vinyl records. It was the very definition of a hole in the wall record shop, but somehow I was sure that if anyone could track down a place like this, it was Sara.

  I turned in a slow circle, soaking up the ambiance. A middle aged guy with a long, graying beard and ponytail lifted a hand in greeting, but swiftly returned to the book lying open on the counter before him.

  “Did you peer into my soul to plan this date?” I asked, lifting a brow at Sara.

  Her face was bathed in the rosy light that lit the place, full of delight and satisfaction. “I tried,” she answered with a wink. I snuck a quick kiss and we moved to browse through the seemingly unsorted crates. Eventually, the owner called to us that he’d be closing up in ten minutes, so I chose a few CDs for my new car collection, along with a vinyl album for my parents. Sara shook her head, refusing to choose something for herself. I paid the man at the counter and slipped my arm around Sara’s waist as we exited the store.

  “I can’t believe how awesome today has been,” I said, nuzzling her ear.

  “Aside from almost breaking your hand?” she asked, sugary sweet.

  I gave a low hum. “Well, it could’ve been worse,
right? I could have actually broken my hand!” Her laughter echoed around us as we stopped for a more lingering kiss beside the parked car. “Do you have any idea how madly in love with you I am?” Something in her eyes said she did, but she only shook her head and smiled. I sighed dramatically and lowered my head, pausing just before our lips touched. “I guess I’ll just have to show you,” I whispered.

  Just like that we stayed, locked together, until I felt a shiver of cold run through her. I swiftly opened her door and bundled her into the car, sliding into my own seat just as a spattering of icy rain fell against the windshield. “Good timing!” Sara exclaimed.

  I grinned at her, unable to remember a single moment in my entire life when I had been so deliriously happy. She directed me back toward the road that would bring us back to Oakville, both of us peering out the windshield as the rain intensified. I drove slowly, cautiously, not wanting to take any risks with Sara in the car. It was after eight when we got back to the main road, but it felt like midnight. Though it was the most direct route between the college campus and home, the street was seriously lacking in street lights. I was going well under the speed limit as we crawled along the dark road, turning my brights off only when the occasional oncoming car appeared in the blackness.

  Though she said nothing, I could feel Sara’s growing tension. I was too nervous to take my eyes off the road as I said, “Hey, it’s okay. I can pull over and wait for the rain to let up, if you want?”

  She set a reassuring hand on my knee. “No, we’ll be home soon. I can’t believe the rain started now,” she said, her tone mildly disgusted. “After such a beautiful day!”

  I grinned and we fell into silence, both keeping our focus on the road. As we came around the final curve before at last hitting the far edge of town, the darkness before us erupted into an expanse of flashing blue and red lights. I slowed to a stop, eyes widening in shock as I realized there had been an accident.

  “Oh my God,” Sarah whispered, horrified.

  I sucked in a breath and took her hand after shifting into park. There were four police cars blocking the road, along with an ambulance and a firetruck. A uniformed officer with a black umbrella overhead approached my window and I fumbled with the controls until it rolled down.

  He peered in at us, his stern expression melting a little when he recognized Sara. “Miss Matthews,” he said, tipping his hat at her before turning to me. “I guess that makes you the new kid?”

  I nodded, unable to think of anything more to offer in response.

  “There’s been a pretty bad accident,” he said, lips tightening. “As soon as the ambulance pulls away, I’ll wave you two through. Sara, honey, give your mom a call, would you?”

  I looked over at her and felt a surge of panic when I saw the deathly pallor of her face, eerily lit by the flashing lights. She nodded and the officer patted the top of the car before returning to the scene. I raised the window as quickly as I could, but my left arm was soaked by the time it had closed fully. Sara was rifling through her purse, her breath sounding harsh in the sudden silence.

  “I can’t find my phone!” she cried, the despair in her voice breaking my heart.

  “Hey,” I said gently, laying my injured hand over her frantic fingers. “Use mine.” I shifted to pull it out of my pocket and looked back at the scene before us while she dialed.

  “Mom, it’s me,” she said quickly. “There’s a—I know. No, we just got back to the edge of town, we’re okay. We can’t get past—I know. I know,” she repeated, her voice breaking as tears began trickling down her cheeks. I brushed them away clumsily with my puffy hand, and she offered a watery smile in my direction. “We’re okay,” she said, a little more firmly. “I don’t know what happened. As soon as they clear the road, we’ll be home.”

  The conversation ended with a hiccupped, “I love you too, Mom.” Sara handed the phone back to me. “She’s been trying to call me for the last fifteen minutes,” she said. “She heard about the accident and has been freaking out, she was about to head over here. I don’t know where the hell my phone is!” The violence behind that last part seemed to surprise her and she covered her face with her hands.

  I turned and wrapped my arm around her, murmuring soothing words in her ear. Her mother thought she was dead, I thought. Thought had lost another piece of herself just like the last time. I fought back the tears that filled my eyes. Of all the nights for another terrible accident to happen, it had to be tonight, while I was out galavanting with her only child.

  We sat like that, holding one another, surrounded by the glow of the lights. I had fired off a text to Nelson, who assured me he was home safe and expressed intense relief that we weren’t involved in the accident. We couldn’t see much beyond the wall of emergency vehicles, only that it looked like a car had gone off the road and flipped. The darkness along this stretch, limited visibility in the rain, and the slick road must have created just the right conditions for losing control. I couldn’t make out the color or model of car from our position, but it seemed like it was a single vehicle. I sent up a silent prayer of thanks that it wasn’t another situation like Sara’s dad had been in.

  The rain began to slow as the minutes passed, and finally we saw the emergency crews loading someone onto a stretcher. Sara clutched my injured hand tightly and I summoned every ounce of strength I possessed to avoid flinching; we both leaned forward as the stretcher was wheeled to the back of the ambulance. At the last moment, right before they passed out of view and into the vehicle, we caught a glimpse of pale, spiky hair and my blood ran cold.

  Sara gasped. “Was that—?”

  My chest felt tight, as though I couldn’t draw in a full breath. “Jay, it was Jay,” I wheezed. Did I cause this? I wondered wildly. Maybe his face had swelled up and he couldn’t see clearly.

  As though reading my mind, Sara turned and took my face in her hands. “Stop it,” she commanded, though her expression mirrored the shock and horror I was feeling. “You didn’t send him off behind the wheel, Travis. We don’t know for sure it was even him.”

  “It was him,” I said numbly. The cold certainty filled me like ice running through my veins. I wondered absently if I should rush out of the car to confess to the police officer who stood guard. As the ambulance pulled away, siren wailing in the night, we stared through the space where it had been. Lit by the flashing police lights, the crumpled red sports car came into view, upside down and wrapped around a tree at the side of the road. I swallowed back the bile that rose in my throat at the sight.

  “Travis,” Sara said firmly, dropping her hands so I could take the wheel as the officer waved us through. “We don’t know what happened. Let’s just go home.”

  I nodded woodenly and maneuvered the car carefully through the opening. Though I was driving as slowly as a hundred year old woman in my state of panic, I could scarcely remember covering the distance between the edge of town and Sara’s house. When I pulled into the driveway, I realized my dad’s Jeep was parked out front. “Your parents are here,” Sara said quietly, as the three adults poured out of the house and pulled us into relieved embraces the second we stepped out of the car.

  Mrs. Matthews said something about a pot of tea as she led Sara into the house. My mom hadn’t eased the death grip she had around my neck, so I patted her back reassuringly. “I’m fine,” I said, the lie swelling in my throat. I wasn’t sure I would ever be fine again.

  Eventually, we went inside; I couldn’t tell if only minutes had passed or hours. Sara sat on one of the bar stools, sipping tea from a flowered mug. When she met my eyes, I knew she must have already told her mom what had transpired. I gave her a tiny smile, feeling like my face might crack under the strain.

  Sara’s mom sat me at the counter and set a steaming mug before me, eyeing my bruised knuckles before shepherding my parents into the family room, where they spoke together in low voices. I was immensely grateful for Sara’s foresight and for not having to be the one to admit that I might
have killed Jay Hallowell tonight, even if it was inadvertent.

  When the three of them returned, my mom wrapped me and Sara in her arms, pulling our heads together. “I’m just so glad you’re safe,” she said, pressing kisses against our foreheads.

  We sat, numb and silent, until nearly midnight. No one was willing to turn on the local news channel, but I saw my dad sending covert texts every so often. His job kept him connected with journalists, reporters, even a few emergency crew members. If anyone was going to get the real story, it would be him. Instead of reassuring me, the thought chilled me to the bone. Even the endless mugs of chamomile tea couldn’t warm me.

  After an icy eternity, my dad disappeared down the hallway for several long minutes, returning with his phone clutched in his hand. He eyed us all sadly. “It was Jay,” he said gently. “But it had nothing to do with his jaw, Travis. His blood alcohol level was through the roof. It’s not looking very hopeful.”

  I had no idea who he’d spoken to, but I sucked in a relieved breath, finally able to fill my lungs again. Mrs. Matthews looked so pale I worried she was about to faint, but Sara stood and wrapped her arms around her. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what kind of flashbacks this was causing, but Sara gave me a small, reassuring smile. The guilt still gnawed at me but my dad set his hand on my shoulder, waiting until I lifted my gaze to his. “You did not cause this, Travis,” he said, his voice low and urgent. “He made the choice to get drunk, get behind the wheel, and go well over the speed limit in terrible driving conditions. It’s a blessing no one else was hurt.”

  I closed my eyes tightly, feeling the burn of tears at the back of my lids. If we hadn’t stopped at the record store, we might have been on our way home at the time Jay came through. The thought—I shoved it down, unwilling to let it surface.

  When the last of the tea had gone cold, my parents prepared to usher me out to the Jeep. They clearly didn’t want me driving at the moment and I was in no mood to protest, so we agreed to come get my car tomorrow. Sara’s mom had regained some of the color in her cheeks and Sara managed to sneak me a quick goodnight kiss when backs were turned. I touched her cheek lightly with my right hand, noting the contrast between my multicolored bruises and her pale skin.