It’s been hanging between Autumn and I, this mutually incomplete knowledge. She knows I wish she felt differently about me. She needs to know it’s much worse than she thinks. My love for her is the closest thing I have to religion. But it’s okay that she doesn’t feel the same. I’m fine. I can handle it. We can be friends, like when we were kids. I was in love with her back then, except this time I’m not going to wig out and try to prove anything to her. I learned my lesson when I tried to kiss her and she didn’t kiss me back.
But my mother is wrong about the timing. This is not the weekend for that conversation. I need to get through today and breaking up with Sylvie tomorrow. After that, maybe I’ll talk to Autumn. Or maybe it should wait until Christmas. I don’t know.
Once again, I have forgotten about my other best friend. I came to the kitchen to make toast out of habit, though Autumn has never been hungover at my house before.
Jack appears in the doorway. He watches me.
“Are you going to put cinnamon and sugar on it too?”
“That’s not how Autumn likes her toast, loser.” There I go again, lashing out instead of dealing with my fucking feelings like a man. I try to sound more like myself. “Do you want some too?”
“Sure.” He sits and yawns. Jack has decided to let me off the hook for today. “Did she like Goodfellas?”
I laugh.
“We’d barely started it when you fell asleep. And you talked about it enough last night that she basically didn’t need to see it.”
“There is no way that can be true,” Jack says. “That film is like a carefully constructed house of cards…”
He continues, but I’m not listening. The bathroom door has opened.
She’s back.
Behind me, I can hear her cross the kitchen and sit at the table.
“Feeling better?” Jack asks.
“More or less,” Autumn says. Her eyes are closed when I turn around, and she’s curled up in the chair, chin on her knee.
I pass Jack the first plate of toast and turn back to make more.
“So if you go back to the original source material, Wiseguy,” Jack begins. He talks about this movie all the time. I don’t have to listen to know what he’s saying. I can agree or say the right thing while focusing on her.
I butter Autumn’s toast the way she likes it, and she gives me a weak, grateful smile that melts me. I’m not sure what’s keeping me upright.
Jack is only trying to save me from myself with this Scorsese monologue, and I’m being a terrible friend.
Her breathing is focused and slow. She chews, swallows, and takes a deep breath. Chew. Swallow. Breath. It’s working. She’s relaxing. Her eyes are still closed; she still leans her cheek on her bent knee.
Jack says, “I think you’d dig the narrative style, like, as a writer.”
Autumn opens her eyes and blinks at him. I’m certain she has not been listening to the film history lesson either.
“Why don’t we restart the movie? We can all watch it.” Jack gives me a look to remind me that our other conversation isn’t over.
Autumn shrugs and finishes her toast.
I don’t pay attention to the movie. We all sit on the couch in a row, the tent abandoned. They’re watching the movie. I’m just here, near her. It seems like the toast did the trick for the nausea she had when she woke.
When had she woken? What had Jack and I been saying?
When I warned Jack that she was about to wake up, we’d been talking about—
Sylvie or soccer. That’s what she could have overheard.
I already told Autumn that I’m breaking up with Sylvie. I don’t think I said anything that could have revealed the real reason. It’s one thing to be in a relationship with Sylvie while in love with the girl next door; it’s a step too far if she’s going back to being my best friend too.
“She’s just not who I want to be with,” I finally said when Autumn asked me why. It was the truth, even if it omitted so much. She nodded like she understood, and it felt like we both said more than we were, but I’m a fool like that.
My best friends sit on either side of me for two and a half hours. Last night, we joked and teased. Today, we are quiet. Either way, hanging out with both of them at the same time feels so right. I hope in the fall, when we’re all in Springfield, they can be friends too. Just friends though.
It’s a silly thought to have, but the point remains: I need to convince both myself and Jack that when Autumn does meet someone again, I’ll be ready to let her go this time.