Page 9 of Autumn on My Mind

“It started with brunch,” my mother says, patting Daryl’s hand. “And the rest was history.”

“History?” I say blankly, my voice a little too high-pitched. “It was two weeks ago—ow.” I push myself closer to the wall so that Alvina’s elbow can’t do any more damage.

When I glance up at Dominic, he’s watching us with eyes narrowed again, irritation still etched in his features. He turns that glare on Alvina—where it belongs, I might add—and then he speaks.

“Careful,” he says lightly to my mother, perfectly casual, even bland. His gaze jumps to where Alvina’s bony elbow has probably bruised my ribs. “I heard recently that involuntary twitches can be a bad sign. You want to take care of your health.” The smile that glazes over his face a second later could almost be called friendly, except that annoyance still lingers in his eyes.

Alvina sniffs and tucks her elbow closer to her body, away from my side. “Such a considerate young man,” she says with brittle affection, false but significantly better than what I would receive if I had said the same thing.

“He is,” Daryl says with a genuine smile, and he claps Dom on the shoulder. “He’s grown up to be a great young man.” He doesn’t notice Dominic shrink under the praise.

I want to shrink too—not because of anything Daryl has said but because I am so, so tired. It hits me like a sack of bricks. I would love to go to sleep and wake up and realize none of this actually happened.

Please let this be a bad dream. I will wake up in my old bed in the room I share with Alvina in my old house, and she will be snoring and drooling but not dating my ex’s father, and we will all go about our business as normal and usual and everything will be fine.

“Anyway, kids, we know this is all a bit sudden,” Daryl says—sweet Daryl with that smile on his face and absolutely no idea of the train wreck he is hitching himself to—“but we wanted to let you know what was going on, in case you see us together.” He directs a smile at me. “Your mother has been coming up with some fun fall activities for us to do together.”

My laugh is hollow but also slightly manic. “Has she really?”

Alvina has the audacity to look completely at ease, like she didn’t just ask me to do that bit of legwork for her.

Daryl gives one brisk nod. “So if anyone would like to join us, we’d love to have some good old-fashioned fun!”

I would rather be strangled to death with my mother’s negligee.

“Probably gonna have to pass on that one,” Dominic says, the words breezy. “A lot of business at this time of year.” Then he gives the table a thump and nudges his dad. “I have to go.” All he offers me and Alvina is a brief nod before he and Daryl stand. Daryl shifts out of the way so that Dom can leave, and I hurriedly tap Alvina’s arm.

“I need to go too,” I say quickly. Then, paying very little attention, I add, “Have a good—fun!”

Because Alvina does not possess the same manners Daryl does, she does not move for me. So I end up basically sitting on top of her and then emerging on the other side, darting toward the entrance as fast as possible. When I push through and find myself in the front lot, I look around, searching for Dominic.

I find him as he’s disappearing into his old Ford, a green baseball hat pulling my eye. Even though I hate running, I break into a jog anyway, making a beeline for the pickup.

I remember that truck, by the way. An old clunker, red-orange and battered but apparently still chugging along. There’s a stain on the passenger seat belt from a bottle of nail polish I spilled. The rearview mirror has a tiny crack in one corner.

I kissed Dominic in the bed of that truck, too. So many kisses, so many ways, so many things we laughed about together.

When I huff and puff up to the Ford and knock on the window, however, neither of us are laughing. I’m completely winded, and Dom is looking at me with furrowed brows.

He rolls the window down slowly, his gaze wary on me. He reaches over and then holds up a water bottle. “Want a drink to go with that stitch in your side?”

I frown. Then I reach through the window to flick the bill of his hat before pushing it off his head.

“Don’t be childish,” he mutters as he grabs for the hat. He swipes it up and jams it back on his head. “Did you need something?”

I can read all the words he’s not saying in his tired expression. Memories of drawn-out arguments where we tried desperately to piece together something we’d already broken and didn’t know how to fix. Fresh pain I thought I’d buried.

But right now, I know what I need to say. So I take a deep breath, composing myself and trying to calm my racing heart—racing because I ran over here, obviously, not for any other reason.

“Our parents cannot date,” I say. And really, my voice sounds pretty good. Normal. I’m impressed.

Dom’s glittering eyes dull as his lips twist into a grimace. “I know,” he says. “I’ll figure something out.”

“Wait,” I say before he can roll the window back up. When he shoots me a questioning look, I go on. “Wait. What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know yet,” he says. “I said I’ll figure it out.”

“No, wait—wait!” I say again as the window begins to inch up. “We can’t barge in.” I pause briefly. “I just meant we needed to keep an eye on things to make sure they fizzle on their own. It’s probably not very serious.”