The Only Exception
"I've developed a new philosophy... I only dread one day at a time." -Charlie Brown
She sat up until the wee hours of the morning on her typing contraption, furiously clacking away at the keys. She would write paragraphs at a time and the delete them, only to start anew. He watched her from a distance; Betelgeuse was just a bit too scared to read any of it.
Autumn stood up and yawned at around three in the morning, then turned around to face the kitchen window. "Bugger off," she said sagely towards the murky image of the creature in the glass. With a scowl, he vanished.
The story was coming along rather brilliantly, she had to admit. It was such a shame that the people around her had ended up as more prominent cast members than she'd originally intended. Still, she thought to herself as she sat back down and opened up her email, if her agent didn't fall in love with this, he was fired.
After uploading those few new chapters and sending them off with the rest of the completed work, Autumn decided a nap was in order. The sun would be poking up over the horizon in just a few scant hours and she would rest until then.
The couch was much more inviting than heading upstairs to crawl into bed with her almost ex-boyfriend, so she grabbed her old fuzzy afghan and settled in there. Within minutes, sleep had claimed her.
She dreamed of a wrinkled old woman surrounded by a cloud of smoke. The woman was shaking a cigarette in her general direction and Autumn watched transfixed as ash from the tip broke away and fell into the ether. It was a warning, she could tell. This woman was warning her about something but she couldn't make out the words.
However, the girl was absolutely certain she caught Betelgeuse's name tucked away within it.
"Autumn!" A hand reached out and shook her shoulder gently. "Autumn, wake up."
"Dafuqtimesit?" she mumbled into the armrest of the cushy sofa. After a moment, she pushed herself into a sitting position and promptly sneezed. "Ugh, lovely."
Craig was standing over her, looking concerned. "It's almost noon, hun. You should get up. How late were you writing?"
After trying to brush the sleep from her eyes and failing, she answered him. "Not sure, it was probably close to four, I think." And then she sneezed again.
"You sound sick," he observed. "That's what happens when you don't get much sleep. Have you been eating well?"
Autumn stood and headed for her bedroom. She needed a fresh change of clothes. A shower wouldn't hurt either and then a late breakfast.
"Does regular takeout count?" she asked over her shoulder. Craig was right behind her.
"No way." He shook his head. "All that greasy stuff can't be good for anybody."
She could name at least one person she knew that it wouldn't hurt. And again, he didn't seem to be present. She vaguely remembered dismissing him last night though...perchance he was still miffed? Oh well, that was his problem.
Once in her room, she dug around in the dresser for a long black skirt and a cozy sweater. If she was sick, she was going to be comfortable, dammit! With that in hand, she stalked into the bathroom and shut the door on her puppy dog boyfriend.
After a few moments of stunned silence, she heard him saunter away. Releasing a long breath, the business of showering was then taken care of. The hot steam from the water opened her nasal passages and suddenly she could breathe again. Autumn hated getting sick, and not just for the all the obvious reasons. When she was sick and her head was all stuffed up it became impossible to think in a linear fashion. Hence, writing became an even bigger chore.
Stepping out of the shower brought the realization that she still hadn't replaced the bathroom mirror. Instead, it was just the old wallpaper staring back at her. Strange how nobody had said anything about it yet. Certainly, either Lydia or Craig would have noticed and mentioned it to her. The glass shards had been cleaned up much earlier in the week, but now she would have to buy a new mirror to hang up...
Oh the options.
She toweled off and after pulling on her clothing of choice, stepped outside of the bathroom. Lydia was lounging there, waiting.
"Good morning," she grinned awkwardly at her older cousin. Lydia didn't smile back, just eased around her and into the bathroom. The door shut quietly. "Oh, this is excellent."
The boyfriend clearly knew something was up and now her cousin was treating her like public enemy number one. Her only confidante was off still brooding somewhere. Down in the kitchen she fixed herself a cup of herbal tea and powered up the laptop.
An email from her agent was waiting for her.
"You've got an intriguing concept here and so far, I like what I'm reading. Keep it up, I can't wait to see more.
Dan Stevens"
The tea was warming her chilled insides, the kind words from her usually brusque agent were making smile, and her nose had stopped itching for the moment. Naturally, this would be the perfect moment for things to take a turn for the worst.
A couple of plates launched themselves from the cupboard and smashed into the refrigerator just as Craig came in through the front door, baring a few bags of food. "What the hell was that?"
Autumn sunk lower in her chair and rubbed at her forehead. A migraine was springing up for sure. Betelgeuse seemed more than a bit miffed. And now Craig was going to tweak out – he had just arrived in the kitchen, looking from her to the shattered porcelain on the floor. She could only give me a half-assed grin.
"Why did you break those plates?" he raised his eyebrows. There was no telling him that she didn't, if there was one thing Craig was 'no nonsense' about, it was the supernatural. He would never believe her if she told him a poltergeist did it.
"I don't know," she shrugged. He stared her down a few moments more before pulling the contents of the bag out and setting them before her. A caesar salad and a vegetable panini. With that came a bottle of vitamin-fortified water.
"Here, you need to eat something healthy if you're going to get better."
"Thanks," she mumbled and dug into the sandwich that was severely lacking in meat substances. The grilled eggplant and soggy zucchini nearly made her gag. She managed to choke it down in between sips of water and then tackled the limp looking salad.
Craig had been sitting across from her the whole time. "How is the writing going?"
That question again? Autumn sat back in her chair, her lower back protesting from a few solid days of bad posture. "Pretty hit and miss," she admitted. "I've had these random bouts of inspirations and when they're around I write furiously."
"Didn't that writing class tell you to write all the time, whether you were inspired or not?"
"Yes," she admitted. "But that doesn't work for me. Besides, I think that instructor was full of it."
"He's a published author," Craig pointed out. What was his point, so was she! Suddenly, Autumn wanted nothing more than to get up and leave the house. She had to get away – all the noise around her and in her head was making her feel crazy.
She stood up and made for the door. Craig was out of his chair in seconds, demanding to know where she was going. "Out for a bit," she told him exasperatedly. "I need some air and some room to think. This place is way too crowded."
After watching her bundle up and trot out the door, Craig sat back down at the table in the kitchen. Lydia joined him moments later.
"Why do you do that?" she asked him.
"What?" he looked up, startled.
Lydia took the seat where Autumn had been and fixed him with her dark eyes. She brushed a lock of black hair over her shoulder. "Always tell her what to do or how to do it? She's an adult, you know?"
Craig reared back. "I don't do that. She just needs a little push sometimes." He closed his eyes and thought back to their time together in the city. She was always a little scatterbrained, always late for things, buried in books, or forgetting to call people back. Sometimes she would cancel on plans they'd made. Autumn would get kind of antsy and detached when they were together too, she needed him around to keep her grounded.
He knew, in his heart, that he could help her settle down at some point.
Lydia was gazing absently at the wall when she spoke next. "She's had it pretty rough, you know. I'm sure she doesn't talk about her childhood much, does she?"
Now that he thought about it, no. Autumn never talked about being a kid, about her family, or about living in New York City. He'd met her in university after he'd transferred from Michigan to Connecticut, and she'd been secretive even back then.
"She was so happy and adorable in the beginning. That was back when Michael and Olivia were still together. Before Olivia..." she trailed off. "Maybe I shouldn't be talking about this. Not in this house anyways."
It was cold on the bridge and her nose was running again. Still, she sat on the cold ground and her let feet dangle out over the frozen water. The river was deep here and Autumn knew that the water was still flowing beneath a few inches of ice. Anything that plunged through would be taken away with the current.
For a moment, she closed her eyes and imagined herself beneath all that ice. Suspended in icy fluid, she could only hear the rushing in her ears and feel the prick against her skin of a thousand tiny knives. The grip of death would carry her away. Away from all the trouble back up at the house, away from all the stress of writing, away from her past and her very own demented mind.
When she opened her eyes, a few drops slid down her cheeks. She tried desperately to convince herself it was just the wind making her eyes tear up. "No, I think I'm done with denial."
And in the spirit of not denying things, she was able to admit finally that she was, indeed, developing some very bizarre feelings for a dead guy. A dead guy that was longing to sit down and have a conversation with.
His name left her lips on a breathy sigh, carried away with the harsh wind. And just like the wind, he was there, lounging next to her.
"Bit chilly out here, don't you think?"
She shrugged. "I don't mind. Are you still pissed at me?"
He blinked stupidly. "Heh, I thought you were mad at me. Too bad about those ugly plates, right?"
She didn't look at him, but there was a small grin playing about her lips. "I have a question for you. And I'd really like an honest answer, if you can."
Oh boy, he had a feeling he wasn't going like this much. Honesty wasn't really his strong suit, but he could do it if helped his cause. "Sure, babes. Shoot."
"What is it like to die?"
Okay, guys. I'm really sorry. I know it's been an epic long time since I've updated and frankly, I've been so busy with school and personal issues that I just haven't felt up to working on anything for leisure. Especially this. But seeing as we're about to start digging into the heart of Autumn's past I might be able to use some of my own 'f'ed-up-ness' to my advantage. Expect more frequent updates in the future and until then I hope you enjoyed this chapter.