Autumn in the City of Angels

by Kirby Howell

  3Pronounced ‘Foe irr... a van muh chree’

  4Pronounced ‘Un vil to downsa loom’

  5Pronounced ‘Guh dock-ah un dee-a-vul to’

  6Pronounced ‘a store’

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  I avoided Grey out of embarrassment for the rest of the day. He didn’t try to talk to me either, which only cemented my certainty that my kiss had not been welcome. Connie and I spent the afternoon in the cafeteria, watching Rissi interact with the other children, which pushed most of my humiliation to the back of my mind. I was nearly in tears from laughter, watching her demonstrate to a younger girl how to properly roll her tongue, when Lydia suddenly appeared at my side.

  “Autumn, can I speak with you privately, please?” A fresh flush of embarrassment washed over me, and I guessed she knew what happened between me and Grey.

  “Sure...” I followed Lydia to a quieter corner.

  She turned and spoke in a low voice, “I’m going to make this perfectly simple. Stay away from both me and Grey. We are worlds apart on multiple levels. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into, and you most certainly will cause problems for us if you continue to demand his attention.” Lydia’s eyes flashed, but her face remained blank. “Stay away from us.”

  Before I could blink, she was gone. I felt frozen. Had that really just happened? Did I imagine it? My face began to burn with anger, my body’s delayed reaction waking me up. How dare she tell me what to do or who to be friends with! She didn’t seem to have any friends of her own, and seeing Grey spend so much time with me was making her jealous. Did Lydia feel the same way about Grey that I did? Her strong reaction made me think she might.

  I walked back to Connie and Rissi, my stomach lurching uncomfortably. I tried to smile so Connie wouldn’t ask questions, but she saw right through me.

  “What did Lydia say to you?”

  “Um... she was asking about my feet.” As if Lydia cared about what condition my feet were in, I thought dryly.

  “She looked mad... well, not mad exactly,” Connie pressed. “More... intense than she usually does.”

  “Well, she wasn’t happy I missed my follow-up appointment.”

  Connie gave me a sharp look, and I tried to act as if Lydia really had said those words. “You know, it might help to talk about it. I’m a pretty good listener.”

  I felt my shoulders sag. I was tempted to tell her everything. Pour out all my worries and frustrations about Ben’s attitude, my unrequited feelings for Grey and the hurtful things Lydia just said. But it all sounded so petty when I thought about putting it into words.

  I shook my head and said, “Maybe another time. I’m okay, I promise.”

  I skipped dinner that night. I told Rissi and Connie my feet were hurting again, but in reality, I just didn’t want to chance bumping into Grey or Lydia.

  Lydia’s words about being “worlds apart on multiple levels” ran through my mind again. It was true Grey and Lydia were more intellectual than me. But aside from that, how different were we really? We were all human. We were all part of the one percent of the world’s population who were naturally immune to The Plague. They were both about my age. How did that make us worlds apart?

  Her next sentence stung the most when I recalled it. “You most certainly will cause problems for us if you continue to demand his attention.” Certain words snapped at me like rattlesnakes in the grass. Cause problems? Demand his attention? I felt queasy.

  I rolled over and tried not to think about it.

  When Connie came back from dinner, she eyed me worriedly and watched while I picked at the food they’d brought back for me, but she didn’t say anything. I found myself thinking in a circular pattern. Shame over kissing Grey bled naturally into depression from the thought that he didn’t feel the same way about me. Bewilderment and confusion at his mixed signals came next, then fascination with whatever it was that made him so different from everyone else. This ultimately led to a fantasy where Grey would tell me he had fallen in love with me, and then he’d hold me and kiss me back properly. But this fantasy would end sharply, and the shame would set in again.

  I spent a couple of maddening hours lost in that cycle. I tried to play cards with Connie, Rissi and Shad, but kept forgetting the rules. After a few games, I curled up on Connie’s bed and pretended to fall asleep. I loved the way her sheets smelled like fresh powder. It was comforting. With my eyes closed, I listened to them talk as they played.

  The next morning I woke up in Connie’s bed. She was curled up asleep on the mattress next to me with Rissi. Shad was snoring on my other side.

  I sat up and leaned against the cement block wall behind me and tried to remember a dream that was quickly fading away. I was back at school, except the other students weren’t my old classmates. Instead of seeing Sarah and my other friends in the halls, I saw Connie, Shad, Ben, Todd and even Rissi. In the dream, The Plague didn’t exist and, as I tried to remember the specifics of what happened, I reveled in the normalcy of it— the classrooms, hallways with posters for clubs and dances, the lines of metal lockers... and Grey. Grey was there.

  It shocked me when the image revealed itself in my memory. He had appeared at the other end of a long hallway that was full of students on their way to class. We walked toward each other until we met in the middle. The students jostled us as they passed. Grey said something, but I couldn’t hear him over the noise. Then he mouthed the words, “I have to tell you something."

  He looked so normal, standing there in a gray t-shirt, jeans and his old sweater that hugged his slender torso. But his eyes, as always, were out of place. They were so blue. Glowing. Piercing. He looked sad.

  I mouthed “What?” and tried to smile. He shouldn’t be sad.

  Grey took a deep breath and searched my face once more before he closed his eyes. Then he reached out with his hand and touched my arm. I gasped in fright as soon as his palm made contact with my skin, and that’s when I woke up.

  I had no idea what had frightened me so much in the dream. I felt unsettled and jittery. I stood up, suddenly feeling the need to walk.

  It must have been very early morning, because I didn’t see anyone in the hallways. I wandered aimlessly, though I consciously stayed away from the supply room and the infirmary. My feet felt almost normal again, so I enjoyed the freedom of being able to walk pain-free.

  I played the dream over and over again in my head. Grey standing in the crowded school hallway, looking so sad, wanting to tell me something... touching me. I only wished it had been real. That I had met Grey in a world where The Plague didn’t exist.

  I frowned. I couldn’t picture him in the normal world. Grocery shopping, going to a movie, filling his car with gas, sitting in traffic. It just didn’t seem right. He seemed too big for those mundane everyday things. Too surreal, too beyond it all.

  And then he was there. I turned a corner in an unfamiliar hallway and was suddenly faced with his figure at the end of it. He was wearing his navy blue sweater. I paused, wondering if I was seeing things. But he lifted his hand in greeting and started toward me.

  Remembering Lydia’s harsh words last night made me take a step back, but I hesitated, not entirely wanting to leave his presence. I stared at the floor, unmoving.

  “Good morning, Autumn,” he said quietly when he reached me.

  “Morning,” I mumbled. I didn’t want to look up at those eyes that I knew would be gazing calmly down at me. I noticed how close he was standing to me, and it made me angry. Who was demanding whose attention here?

  I resolved myself and took a deliberate step back, jutted out my chin and stared up at him. “I shouldn’t be talking to you,” I said, one eyebrow raised. It was the brattiest face I knew how to make.

  He suddenly infuriated me. How he let Lydia run his social life. How calm and removed he always seemed from everything. How I always felt he was the one in control, making decisions, like the fate of any relationship we might have lay in only his hands. I didn�
�t care how attractive he was, how warm and inviting his worn-out sweater looked, how his blue eyes seemed to be boring into me at this very moment.

  I glared at him, my fists balled up.

  “I’m sorry about Lydia. I didn’t think she would go so far as to talk openly with you about how she felt…” Grey paused for a moment. I concentrated on a gash in the wall just behind his shoulder. I heard his intake of breath, then he said, “But she’s right you know. It would complicate things if we were to be involved romantically.”

  I stared at the gash in the wall without seeing it anymore. A million thoughts crowded my head at once, none of which I could concentrate on for more than a few moments each. The words “involved romantically” kept charging through my brain like a battering ram. Had he actually thought about us being involved romantically? My heart lifted for the smallest of moments before I realized he had obviously decided against it. He was agreeing with Lydia about it being too complicated.

  Grey interrupted my thoughts, “Autumn, please look at me.”

  I didn’t want to look at him. I knew he’d read the emotions written on my face. And more than anything, I didn’t want to appear childish in front of him right now.

  “Autumn, please...” he whispered softly and touched my face with his fingertips.

  His touch was like an electric current that ran through his fingers into my cheek and down the back of my neck.

  I took another step back, away from him. “Don’t do that,” I whispered and hated the part of myself that died for his soft touch. “Why? Why do you do things like that if you agree we shouldn’t be involved? It’s confusing and... and you make it so much worse.” My words tumbled over each other as they poured from my mouth.

  He didn’t reach for me again. His blue eyes were sad. “I don’t agree,” he said.

  Anger flooded me again, making me brave and bold. I stared directly into his face and said, “I don’t think you’re in a position to agree or disagree as to how your actions affect my feelings. You can’t just do things like that and expect them to not have some sort of effect...”

  Grey chuckled suddenly, and I broke off, staring at him in mingled confusion and horror. Had he just laughed at me? I turned my back to him and began to walk away. I turned the first corner I came to, not knowing or caring where I was going.

  I heard faint footsteps behind me and turned to confront him again. He was closer behind me than I thought he would be, and I jumped back in surprise. “What do you want?” I cried out in exasperation.

  “You misunderstood me. I meant that I don’t agree with Lydia.” Grey actually looked slightly panicked, but not enough for me to be sure. My mind buzzed trying to work out what he’d meant. “She’s right about it complicating things,” he continued. “But I don’t agree. I don’t see the situation that way. She doesn’t understand that part.” Grey shook his head, as if he thought Lydia were crazy.

  I waited, wondering what exactly this meant. He didn’t move. He just watched me with those crystalline eyes of his. “Okay...?” I murmured.

  “I’ve found myself thinking about you often. More often than I should.” He said this as if it were a bad thing. He squeezed his eyes shut and said, “And in ways that I shouldn’t.”

  My breath caught in my lungs, and I felt my heart thud once in my chest, like a bass drum, its echo reverberating around inside me, vibrating my fingertips and hair.

  He opened his eyes; they were burning bright blue. “I can’t stop it. It’s beyond me now,” he confessed. He closed the short distance between us in one stride, and, with one hand, he grabbed my waist, pulling me against him. With the other hand against my cheek, he guided my face to his. His lips were on mine before I could even gasp. His hand at my waist slid around to the small of my back, pressing me to him, arching my back, curving my body into his.

  His lips were soft at first, searching and hesitant, and then quickly became more intense. His other hand left my cheek and slid back, his fingers tangling in my hair at the nape of my neck. His breath was warm on my face when he broke the kiss for a moment and murmured, “You’re quite literally driving me crazy, Autumn.”

  My arms were pinned against his chest, but he loosened his hold slightly now, and my hands automatically slid up his arms and over his shoulders. He bent his head again, closing his mouth over mine. I felt my heart thumping wildly, or maybe it was his?

  Grey’s lips slid down my jaw and pressed into my throat, turning my head away from him. I sighed heartily as his arm tightened around me.

  Suddenly, he pushed me back, pinning me against the wall with his broad chest. I stumbled, but he held me up. His lips found mine again, and he kissed me with an intensity I’d never known before. It was as if the world was ending, and this was his last act before he died. My knees grew weak, my thoughts fuzzy. His hands left my waist and my hair at that moment and found my wrists behind his neck. He clamped his large hands around my wrists and pushed them back roughly against the wall on either side of my head. I gasped at the slight pain, and he broke away from me suddenly, breathing heavily only inches from my face.

  I stared at him, unsure what had just happened.

  His eyes were full of pain. He pressed them shut and gently touched his forehead to mine and sighed deeply. “What are you doing to me?” he moaned softly. He slowly released my wrists and stepped away from me.

  What was I doing to him? I thought in a rush. What the hell did he mean by that? He was the one doing things to me. I rubbed the back of one of my hands.

  “Did I hurt you?” Grey asked, looking at my hands, concerned. I shook my head. He tilted his head back and sucked in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. He pressed the heels of his hands against his temples then ran his fingers through his short blonde hair. He looked like he didn’t know what to do. He took several deep breaths, as if trying to calm himself. I stood still, almost afraid to move.

  He turned to me suddenly. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry if I hurt you in any way. It’s not fair for you to have to be put through this with me...”

  I found my voice. “Put through what, exactly?”

  He looked at me for a long moment, then held out his hand to me, palm up. Without hesitation, I put my hand in his. He closed his long fingers around mine. “Come with me?”

  I nodded. He led me down the hallway in the direction he had come from. When we reached the end, he pulled me to the right. He stopped at a doorway and opened it for me.

  “This is my room,” he said quietly. I stepped inside and looked around. Grey’s room was about the size of Connie and Shad’s room, only with one mattress, covered neatly with a single blanket. In the corner, there was a very small desk and a metal folding chair with another blanket folded over the seat like a cushion. The rest of the space was taken up by a multitude of books. They were stacked horizontally on top of each other against the walls, the bigger ones on the bottom, getting smaller as they went up. It was like a miniature New York City skyline made of books.

  He pulled the chair out and offered it to me. I sat down while he closed a few large books on his desk and gathered up a stack of papers with the tiniest handwriting I’d ever seen covering every inch of them. I recognized it as his own from the note he’d left me. He perched on the edge of the desk next to me. Then he seemed to change his mind and stood up. My eyes caught a large piece of paper that was pinned to the wall behind him. It was a map of Los Angeles. Probably the largest and most detailed map of the city I’d ever seen. Most of the streets’ names were visible and so were major landmarks – the Hollywood sign, the Getty Center, the USC and UCLA campuses and even Muscle Beach.

  As always, my eyes searched for Marina del Rey. I found the 90 freeway and followed it west to where it dead-ended at the ocean. My mouth opened slightly when I saw a red pin pushed into this spot. I glanced over the rest of the map and noticed other red pins at different spots.

  My voice broke the silence. “What do the red pins mark?”

  Grey hes
itated then said, “Places I’ve... been to. Since The Plague.”

  “Oh,” I said, still looking over the map at all the multitude of pins. He seemed to have been everywhere.

  “Autumn, I need to tell you something.”

  I looked at him quickly with a strong sense of déjà vu. I recalled my dream when he’d reached out and startled me awake just by touching me. I waited, holding my breath.

  He stood with his hands shoved in the pockets of his faded blue jeans, shoulders hunched forward.

  “What?” I tried to make my voice sound normal, but the word came out strangled.

  He looked down at the floor and pulled his hands out of his pockets. He stood up straight, as if he were about to be executed and was determined to be a man about it. “I’m not who you think I am,” he said.

  I shrugged slightly. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, first of all, I’m sorry about allowing myself to get out of control when I kissed you. It wasn’t dignified and... it won’t happen again.”

  “It’s okay. I’m fine. You didn’t hurt me,” I said, secretly hoping it would happen again.

  He shook his head. “I know, but I allowed myself to be dictated by my emotions, and that’s not right.” He whispered the last three words and closed his eyes. “That’s not supposed to be part of who I am.”

  I was confused by his last sentence. I waited for him to continue.

  When he opened his eyes, he sat down on the edge of his mattress, resting his forearms on his knees and clasping his hands in front of him. “Where I’m from, it’s not allowed.”

  “What’s not allowed?” I whispered.

  “Emotions that are...” he struggled for a word, “counterproductive. Anger, envy, joy, anticipation, fear, pride, lust, shame, sadness... love.” With that last word, he looked up at me. “Emotions that are counterproductive were eradicated from our culture a long time ago. You could say I’m breaking the most basic and important law we have.”