The Edge of Autumn Read online

  “That’s freaking adorable,” I told him, patting him heartily on the back. “Good for you, man!”

  He brushed off my congratulations, his cheeks reddening slightly. “Yeah, well, hold back the accolades until after the first date!” he joked.

  I shook my head as we stood to return our trays. “Nah, man, how could any girl resist such a burly example of manhood?” I teased.

  “They’ve succeeded pretty well until now!” he replied. “She’s gorgeous though, Trav, and super smart. She takes that college math class with Sara.”

  My eyes widened. “Seriously? We should all hang out together sometime, it’d be fun.” I stopped myself before offering up my birthday as an option—Sara had something planned, even if she wouldn’t share the specifics, and I didn’t want to miss out on a romantic surprise.

  Nelson grinned. “We’ll see how this weekend goes. But hey, if you can get any information out of Sara about Gwen, I wouldn’t turn down some pointers.”

  The bell rang and I grabbed my backpack from the table. “Anything to help a friend,” I vowed with a wink. “I’ll let you know what I find out!”

  He raised a hand in thanks as we headed in separate directions to our next classes. I couldn’t help but smile at the thought of Nelson with a girlfriend; he deserved some happiness, as much as Sara did. They’d suffered such a loss after Mr. Matthews' death and lost each other for all those years. Now we all had each other and Nelson finding love would be the icing on the cake, I thought. Especially if his girlfriend already knew Sara.

  The rest of the day was uneventful, though Sara and I exchanged a few more texts throughout the afternoon. I mentioned Nelson’s date with Gwen and Sara was quick to gush about how happy she was for him and how perfect this girl was for him—cute, smart, a bit geeky. She heartily agreed to a future double date. I wondered what that would be like: if Gwen would fit into our little group, if she would know all of the intricacies of Sara and Nelson’s history here in Oakville by then? Then again, if she lived nearby, maybe she knew more about what had gone on here than I did. That hit me with a strange pang of jealousy. I had no doubt that I truly belonged with Sara, but in this small town, I was still largely an outsider.

  I walked home that afternoon, glad that yesterday’s rain had ended. There was a bite in the air but the sun shone brightly, cutting through the chill. My mom had some errands to run and since I knew I wouldn’t be driving Sara around, I had assured her I could handle the walk. I reflected on everything that had happened since Friday, replaying the weekend’s events in my mind as I plodded along the sidewalk. The streets seemed unusually quiet after the chaos of the festival, so I didn’t bother to hide the smile that flitted across my lips at the memories.

  The house was silent and empty when I let myself in. Funny the things you barely notice until they’re not there, I thought, missing the sound of my mom singing along to the radio as she painted. It had been such a constant in my life, as far back as I could recall. A memory struck me, the distinct image of a tiny me sitting on the floor of her studio back in—cripe, I couldn’t even remember which state it must have been—wherever it was, finger-painting on a giant sheet of paper while she worked beside me, singing and laughing and sharing her art with me.

  An intense wave of sadness followed as I wondered what life would be like when I left home. Sara had laughed at my lack of college plans when we first met, but my life had always felt so up in the air that I hadn’t thought I could really make that kind of life-changing decision without knowing where we’d be living. Now, though, it felt a little too imminent.

  I tossed my backpack on the kitchen table and got myself a glass of water, chugging it down in front of the sink. As I set down the glass, I stared blindly out the kitchen window, lost in thought. Senior year was supposed to be fun and wild and celebratory, a time to prepare to spread our wings and fly away from the nest, or so pop culture made it seem. Instead, I felt like this year so far had been filled with roots, anchoring me in a place that felt like the first real home I’d ever known. Things had just become settled and beautiful and damn near perfect; I didn’t want to face the upheaval that was likely to come as senior year progressed.

  A ding from my pocket jarred me from my morose train of thought. Sara had sent a picture of herself looking ridiculously beautiful for someone so . . . upside down? She was draped over the edge of a low stone bench somewhere on campus. I laughed aloud and sent her a goofy duck-face selfie, imagining the responding grin that would give her that impish look I so loved. I missed her, feeling stupidly codependent even as the emotion struck me, but in this empty house by myself, I longed for the sound of her laughter, the warmth of her hand in mine.

  With a sigh, I sat at the table and pulled out my homework, hoping to take my mind off the dreary loneliness. I had finished everything but math—which is where I started speculating about Mr. Hall and his college professor girlfriend, whether Sara had ever told either one of them what was happening in her personal life and if it would be too weird to thank him again for stepping in at the dance—when my dad got home.

  “Hey, Trav,” he called as he unloaded a pile of equipment onto the floor in the front hall.

  “Hey, Dad,” I replied, closing my notebook as I scribbled the final answers at the bottom of the page. “Do you need help bringing stuff in?”

  He shook his head with a smile. “No, this is everything. How’s the homework coming?”

  I slid the notebook into my backpack. “Done, finally,” I said, rubbing my hands over my face. “What time is it?”

  “Almost seven,” he replied after glancing at his watch.

  I noticed his sandy brown hair was getting longer than he usually wore it and that it was noticeably grayer around his temples than I recalled. Though I wouldn’t kid myself into thinking I’d spend less time with Sara in order to accomplish it, I vowed to make more of an effort to hang with my parents once in a while.

  “Your mom’s still out?” he asked, cutting through my thoughts.

  I nodded. “She said not to expect her home for dinner, I think she had some stuff to deliver up to the gallery,” I told him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get anything out for dinner yet.”

  Dad scoffed. “Nonsense, you’re busy with schoolwork. I don’t expect you to wait on me, Trav. Your mother doesn’t either,” he admonished. “I’ll order pizza, how’s that sound?”

  With a grin, I nodded and said, “Sounds great!” I couldn’t remember the last time I’d hung out with just my dad. This sounded exponentially better than the bleak silence I’d endured for the past few hours.

  We sat together at the table, chatting about school, mostly. I asked him how work was going and inadvertently turned the conversation toward my own photography.

  “Your mom said you were working on a portfolio,” he said, smiling proudly. “Have you thought at all about art school?”

  I hesitated, feeling a bit like a deer in the headlights. “I’m not really sure,” I answered slowly. “I haven’t really thought too much about it yet. The portfolio was more of a personal challenge.”

  He gave me a pointed look, one worthy of my mother. “Sara’s suggestion?”

  I couldn’t hold back a guilty smile. “Yes. I was already thinking about it,” I confessed, “I just hadn’t gotten around to it before she mentioned it. I don’t know if I want it to be my career—no offense.”

  “None taken,” he replied with a grin that I thought looked an awful lot like my own. I knew I favored my mother in looks, but it was always a bit reassuring to see that he and I had some things in common, too.

  The doorbell rang, giving me a chance to collect my thoughts while Dad paid the delivery guy. I couldn’t get what Sara had said about her writing being “raw” out of my head; my actual photographs were not that, I knew full well, but it felt almost like the subject of my photography was still personal and private in that same way. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to discuss it in any great depth with my dad. I defini
tely didn’t feel ready to show him my stuff, but that made me wonder if I was just being stupid about it.

  In any case, the pizza took the focus off of me, for a while anyway. Dad asked about Nelson—because pizza obviously brought him to mind—and was genuinely delighted to hear about the upcoming date. Something about the way we had settled into this town so readily filled me with warmth. My parents had always welcomed whatever friends I brought home, but Nelson and Sara were the first who’d truly seemed to touch their hearts.

  As we finished off most of the pizza and wrapped up two slices for Mom, he cocked his head at me. “You’re happy here,” he observed, his voice low.

  “I am,” I said simply.

  He nodded, but a shadow of sadness crossed his face. “I’m sorry if you’ve been unhappy in the past, Travis. I know moving around so much isn’t easy on a kid, and you just took it all in stride.”

  I held up a hand to stop him. “I was never unhappy, Dad. Now I’m just—” in love, I finished silently, snapping my mouth shut against the words. I smiled to cover it. “I’m just phenomenally happy now and everything before just looks like it was a bit watered down, you know?”

  His eyes, a hazel color that was a few shades lighter than mine and Mom’s, twinkled at me. “Believe me, son, I understand completely. Your mom and I were young, once upon a time.”

  A few months ago, I probably would have rolled my eyes and groaned at a lead-in like that, but now curiosity won out. “How long was it before you knew she was the one?” I asked. I’d heard the story of how they had met in a college lit class dozens of times—how my mom had intentionally become his assigned “homework buddy” in order to give him her phone number, how it had taken him weeks to find the courage to ask her out, how they had become inseparable after that first date. It was only now, right this moment, that I wanted to know more specifically just how they had known.

  The smile that lit his face was blissful. “A week? A day? An hour? Everything just fell into place as though it were destined to happen. I wasn’t even supposed to be in that class, but my advisor had signed me up for the honors level and as soon as she sat down in front of me, there was no way in hell I would have dropped it! When the professor told us to exchange phone numbers with the person sitting closest to us, I almost died right on the spot. She turned around and gave me that look . . . it was probably love at first sight, Travis, but I was too scared to believe it. By the time we finally went on that first date, I was head over heels for her. My friends laughed at the way I talked about her, called it infatuation, lust, obsession. It wasn’t. The feeling went bone-deep, like every cell in my body knew it was right.”

  When he paused, still smiling, my breath caught in my throat. I felt both laughably young and terrifyingly grown up at the same time, hearing the echo of my own thoughts of the past month in his words. He must have noticed the startled look on my face.

  “Travis,” he said gently. “If it’s right, it’s right. It’s scary, realizing your fate is in someone else’s hands. You two are even younger than we were and I know how petrified I was that life would lead us in different directions. Maybe I’m a sap, but love—true, enduring love—grows and evolves and finds its way through all of those hurdles that life might drop in the way. All you can do is seize it and fight for it and hold onto it. Living your life in fear of losing it is no way to live.”

  The words were profound, each one striking against my heart like a hammer and chisel. He was right. I couldn’t let fear hold me back from living life to the fullest right now. None of us knew what the future might hold—Sara certainly had enough experience with that.

  I studied my Dad across the table, wondering if my face revealed as much to him as it usually did to Sara. Appreciation for him, for both of my parents, had me suddenly a little choked up. The smile on his lips seemed to confirm that he understood.

  After a moment, I cleared my throat and said all there was to say: “Thanks, Dad.”

  The sound of the front door opening signalled my mom’s arrival home. The involuntary expression that came over him as she walked into view dazzled me. How lucky was I to bear witness to such an intense love, withstanding decades and countless moves all over the country? Instead of feeling like a voyeur, I basked in it, letting the warmth wash over me.

  “Why, look at these two gorgeous fellas,” she cooed, her smile bright and appreciative. “How was your day, boys?”

  Dad stood to take her in his arms and I politely averted my eyes from his welcoming kiss. In the interest of living in the moment, I tried hard not to imagine myself kissing Sara like that some evening twenty years down the road, but the picture was impossible to banish my my mind’s eye. All of my panic over finishing senior year had faded, and here I was, flashing even farther forward into the future.

  While my mom hung up her coat and sat beside me at the table, Dad reheated the pizza we’d saved for her and presented it with an extravagant bow. I had to laugh at just how many of his mannerisms I had inherited, observing that my mom’s face lit up in the exact way Sara’s did when I had done the same.

  After they had chatted about their days, my mom turned her attention to me. “So, Sara’s up at her college class today?” she asked.

  I nodded, realizing this was as good a time as any to broach the subject of my birthday. “My birthday is on her midterm day and we were thinking maybe I could go pick her up afterward. She’s planning some surprise dinner date or something. Would you guys be terribly upset?”

  Their smiles held an identical degree of pleasure and understanding. “Of course not, honey,” my mom said warmly. “Maybe we can have cake on Sunday afternoon so you don’t feel like you need to rush home. Sara could certainly join us, and her mother maybe? And Nelson, of course.”

  My eyes widened but I nodded. “Sure, I’ll ask.” I tried hard not to imagine what new level of awkward that soiree might reach.

  With the matter of my birthday sufficiently settled, my parents shooed me off to relax before bed while they tidied up the kitchen. Instead of flopping onto my bed, I sat at the computer and set about sorting through photos from the festival, choosing a few to edit and add to my portfolio folder. I stopped at a shot of Sara, her gaze wistful as she watched the parade. My heart felt full to bursting as I studied the photo. Her eyes were amazing, I thought as I zoomed in, studying the rings of blue and green. On her lips was the barest hint of a smile, each corner just beginning to lift. Though I wasn’t sure she would approve, I added it to the portfolio. I was a biased audience, for sure, but something about her expression in that moment felt too dazzling to hide away.

  Once I felt like I’d done enough productive work for the evening, I pulled out my phone and scrolled through the pictures I’d taken at the dance. There was a selfie of the three of us, courtesy of Nelson’s gangly monkey arms, all making goofy faces, and one of Sara and I rubbing noses. I sent both to Sara’s phone, unable to wipe the grin off my face.

  OMG, adorable! I just got home, she replied barely a minute after I hit send.

  How was class? I asked.

  Eh. Got some info on Gwen, will tell you tomorrow. Meet me at the store after school?

  That was an invitation I would never turn down. You know it. Heading to bed soon?

  Her response took a few minutes and I wondered if her mom had stopped in to say goodnight. Yes, totally wiped.

  Sweet dreams, gorgeous, I typed, pulling up that picture of her for one last look before I shut down the computer.

  Hey Holmes—I adore you, she replied, then sent a picture of herself blowing a kiss at the phone.

  Ditto, sweetheart. Sleep tight. I set the phone on my bedside table and sat at the edge of the bed, staring sightlessly out at the dark night beyond my window. I wondered what it would be like to kiss her goodnight each evening or wake up to her sleepy smiles. Then, of course, I wondered if she ever considered those things or if I was ridiculous for jumping the gun and imagining things that could only exist heaven knew how
far in the future. Were we lucky for finding each other so young, or was it an added hurdle to overcome, having to endure this awkward transition from teenager into adulthood?

  When at last I felt my brain couldn’t handle any more philosophical pondering, I got up to brush my teeth and change into flannel pajama pants. I glanced at my phone one last time to be sure I wasn’t missing any messages from Sara, then closed my eyes and fell immediately to sleep.

  CHAPTER 27: That Week

  The following week settled into a comfortable routine of school, afternoons with Sara, and increased texting with Nelson as he prepared for his date. His anxiety took me back to the moment I walked into the bookstore and I could only commiserate with him, hiding any residual smugness that lingered inside me at not having to face that awkwardness again. Nelson must have sensed it though; I caught him frowning in my direction a few times throughout the week. His expression cleared as soon as I looked at him, turning to his usual goofy smile, but I felt his unease.

  Sara, bless her heart, tried her best to reassure him. She relayed every tidbit of information she’d garnered from Gwen at class, from favorite foods to taste in movies and music. None of it seemed to calm his nerves.

  By Friday evening, we were in desperate need of a break from babysitting Nelson. Sara came over after I got home from school and we sat on the couch, eating potato chips and breaking into the small stash of root beer that I had picked up to keep at the house for her.

  “I love Nelson like a brother but if I have to listen to him ask about his outfit one more time before tomorrow night, I am going to punch him,” she said, taking a swig of soda.

  I snorted, kissing her forehead. “Right in the teeth?” I asked, humoring my feisty little redhead.

  “No, right in the balls, more like,” she growled. Once again, I nearly choked as the laugh bubbled up in my throat. She eyed me cautiously. “Easy, tiger,” she said, patting my back.