If Only I Had Told Her(65)

I walk off the porch, pack up the mower, and go home. I watch the game with Dad, and Mom sticks around to eat tacos with us.

When Autumn crosses my mind again, I push away the thought the way I push away fantasies of Finn being alive. I don’t have room in my head for her grief and my own.

I drive back to school the next day.

I don’t do what Finn would have wanted me to do.





seventeen





Did you hear about Autumn?

I stare at the first text I’ve had from Sylvie since I’d texted her during my run a few weeks ago. I’m between classes, and I have a tight window to walk across campus, but I’ve stopped in my tracks on the sidewalk. Someone calls me an asshole as he bumps my shoulder, but I ignore him and type while the crowd moves around me.

Hear what?



Sylvie knew that Finn cheated on her, right? Was I wrong to assume that he would’ve told her? Is she only figuring this out now?

She tried to kill herself.



Another guy bumps into me in protest of my roadblock.

“Excuse me,” a girl says.

It’s the first cool fall day. The sky is blue, and everyone is wearing light jackets. It’s been almost a week since I mowed Finn’s lawn.

I think about asking Sylvie if she’s sure, but that would be a question for Alexis, not Sylvie. If Sylvie says it’s true, it almost certainly is.

I don’t need to ask why.

And it doesn’t matter how.

She’s alive, thank goodness.

Still, the need to find out more nags me. There’s no more rush of folks to class, just casual walkers wandering the campus who sidestep me. No matter what, I’m going to be late. If I hurry, I might be able to slip in the back unnoticed. But class can wait.

Sylvie answers on the first ring.

“Hello, Jack,” she says, as if I hadn’t asked her why she wasn’t wearing her seatbelt in our last exchange.

“Hi,” I say. “What happened with Autumn?”

“She tried to kill herself. She survived, but she’s in the hospital.” She sighs. “Taylor told me. I don’t even know how she found out. She thought I’d be happy.”

“Gross,” I say.

“Yeah.”

“But Autumn’s okay?”

“I doubt she’s okay, Jack,” Sylvie says. “But she is alive.”

We’re both silent for a moment. The wind picks up. I watch the leaves rustling. One lonely cloud wanders by.

“I should have said something,” I say. “I saw Autumn last week, and I could tell she wasn’t okay.”

Sylvie snorts. “I don’t know if I’m okay either,” she says. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” I answer. “But I knew Autumn wasn’t.” I take a deep breath. “Maybe we’re on our way to being okay. When I saw Autumn, I could tell she wasn’t on her way. I should have said something to Angelina or her mom.”

I hear Sylvie breathing. I’m still watching the leaves in the wind. All the trees are starting to turn color.

“Why does it bother me so much?” Sylvie asks. “That she did that? Sure, I’m not a monster like Taylor thought, but why do I care so fucking much about whether Autumn Davis lives or dies?”

“Because Finn would want her to live.”

“Yeah,” Sylvie whispers. And then, “What if she tries it again? Statistically, there’s a good chance of that.”

“I’ll tell her not to,” I say, as if it’s as simple as that, but hey, maybe it is? “I’ll tell Autumn that Finn would want her to live.” Something relaxes in my shoulders as I hear the words aloud. “I was just there, but I can go home again this weekend. Besides, my brothers and I have a bet about whether I can get my dad to go to the art museum.”

“That’s weird,” Sylvie says. “But thank you. I’ll be honest. If you didn’t offer, I was going to guilt you into it. I don’t think she’d want to see me.”

“If I didn’t offer, then I should have been guilted,” I say. “I’m telling you, Sylv, I really should have said something after I saw her last weekend.”

Sylvie pauses and then says carefully, “There’re always things that we could have done differently. What matters is what we do now.”

It was the rain’s fault.

“Yeah,” I say. “You’re right.”





eighteen





I thought a mental hospital would be a stately building at the end of a long driveway with a big green lawn, like in movies, but it’s simply another wing at the hospital. It has its own front desk, waiting room with vinyl seats, and watercooler.

When I approach the desk and ask about Autumn, the nurse looks doubtful, like maybe he should send me away, but he says visiting hours start in forty minutes. The staff will give my name to Autumn.

“I’ll let you know if she doesn’t want to see you.”

The nurse pauses to gauge my reaction. When I shrug, he seems satisfied and goes out a door behind the desk.

I sit down in one of the chairs to wait. Its possible Autumn won’t want to see me. I suppose if I’d thrown a fit about it, it would be a sign I wasn’t someone who should see a patient.