1. Say Something

I’ve been watching Autumn Burke for weeks, waiting for a chance to talk to her. The first night I played one of my twice weekly sets at this coffee shop her smiling face caught my eye. I watched her the whole night as she served people coffee or tapped her foot absentmindedly to the music I was playing while she waited for orders to come out of the kitchen. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her, and it’s been the same every week since.

Tonight is just like every other night. I’m packing up my equipment after my set and she’s wiping down tables, waiting for the last few customers to leave so she can lock up. Neither of us says a word, but every now and then I catch her eye and she smiles at me. I know this is cheesy, but it’s the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen and every time I see it, I feel like a 14-year-old girl about to go on her first date. It’s kind of ridiculous. My buddy Don has been giving me shit about it for weeks and I would get pissed except that I know I would do the same if the tables were turned. I’m not really sure when I became such a pussy.

Eventually the few stragglers are gone and Autumn locks the door then disappears into the back just like she does every night. I’m finished packing up my stuff and there’s enough of it that I can make it out to the car in one trip once Don gets here with his truck, so I sit on the edge of the makeshift stage they make for me every time I play and start strumming random chords on my guitar while I wait for her to come back out. She always brings me the last of the coffee in a take away cup and says goodnight and that’s when I know I can leave and go to sleep happy. Ridiculous.

I soon become so immersed in whatever nonsense I’m playing that I don’t even hear her footsteps when she comes back and I’m a little bit startled when she’s suddenly standing beside me, her 5’3” frame weirdly towering over me since I’m practically sitting on the floor.

She smiles when I finally stop playing and look up at her and reaches out towards me, offering the obligatory cup of coffee.

“Thanks,” I say, taking it from her and taking a sip.

“Always,” she replies, that radiant smile still lighting up her face and the entire room. She sits down next to me, something that has never happened before. “That was really nice, what you were just playing. Did you write that?”

“Uhhhh, yeah.” I nod and laugh my most awkward laugh. “Well, if you can call it that. It was more just like random strumming.”

“Well, it was nice. It sounded like fall, which I love.”

She glances out the window, where the streetlamps are lighting up the colorful, naked trees as they often do in the middle of October. The phrase “it sounded like fall” will stick in my head for years to come, because while it seems like it shouldn’t make sense, it totally does. She’s right. Something about whatever it was I was just playing does sound like fall. It makes sense, since we do happen to be right in the middle of that season, and it just happens to be my favorite of all the seasons. It makes me nostalgic for some reason. It’s like everything important that’s ever happened to me has happened when the air is nippy and the leaves are falling.

“It’s my favorite,” she says.

“What? Fall?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, that’s appropriate.” I smile at her and she laughs.

“Yeah, I guess. Lucky me, right? How many of us get to be named after our favorite season?”

“Very lucky,” I agree. “I can only wish that there was a season of Justin.”

She laughs again as she stands up, and I didn’t think that it was possible for anything to be more beautiful than her smile, but it turns out that her laugh has left the smile in the dust, struggling to take a distant second place.

“Well, maybe there is, you just don’t know it yet.” She gives me a playful wink and I really don’t know what that statement was supposed to mean, but I don’t bother asking as I watch her walk away back towards the kitchen area to gather her things and go home just like she does every night.

“Hey, Autumn,” I stop her before she can completely disappear again. She turns around to look at me, a quizzical look in her eye.

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to go get some coff-“ I stop myself before I can say coffee, realizing how stupid it is to ask someone who works at a coffee shop to go get coffee. “Do you want to go get some dinner or something?”

“Oh.”

I can’t really read the look on her face right now. It’s something like disappointment, mixed with a bit of astonishment and another emotion that I can’t really decipher. I immediately wish I hadn’t asked, and I can’t help holding my breath while I wait for her answer.

“I already ate,” she finally responds. “Sorry.”

“Dessert?” The word comes out of my mouth before I even think about it as if my brain doesn’t realize that her rejection was of me, not the idea of dinner.

“Oh,” she says again and she pauses, closing her mouth, opening it again as if she’s going to say something, then closing it one more time. Finally she smiles that gorgeous, breath taking smile and says, “Yeah, that would be nice.”

* * *

“Can I get you something to drink?” a waitress whose nametag reads “Sheila” asks once Autumn and I are seated in a booth in a diner clear on the other side of the tiny mountain town where I play those twice weekly sets. I live in a much bigger town in the valley, but I like coming up here to play. The people are friendlier and I find it easier to be creative in this atmosphere. Plus, my buddy Don grew up here and his folks own the coffee shop I play at, so it was easy to get the gig.

“I’ll just have a coffee,” I say, despite the fact that I just drank a fair amount of the stuff at the coffee shop. Autumn gives me this look that says she thinks I’m some sort of addict, but there’s a distinct twinkle in her eye as she places her own order.

“I’ll have a coffee too, please. Decaf,” she adds.

“Decaf?” I ask. “What is the point of decaf coffee? It’s like drinking brown water.”

“I’m trying to cut down on the caffeine,” she laughs. “It’s not good for you.”

Sheila glances at Autumn, then gives me this look like she’s trying to tell me there’s something completely untrustworthy about a person trying to watch her caffeine intake, but she saunters off without another word to get our coffees.

“So, Don tells me you’re recording some demos right now. Trying to get your big break or something.”

“Oh, yeah.” I nod as I glance through the dessert menu, trying to decide between what seems like twenty different kinds of pie. I had always been under the impression that people in small towns were supposed to lead simpler lives, but apparently this does not extend to their pie choices. “Yeah, I’ve finally saved up enough money for some studio time, so I figure once I get some stuff on tape, I can start sending it out to record companies.”

“So you really are trying to make it big, huh?”

Before I can respond, Sheila’s returned with our coffees and is asking for our order. Autumn immediately asks for the apple crumble and I stare at her incredulously.

“You didn’t even look at the menu!” I exclaim, gesturing to the twenty types of pie which have me completely torn.

“Justin, I grew up here,” she laughs. “This diner has had the same dessert choices my entire life. I don’t need to look at the menu.”

“Do you know what you’d like, dear?” Sheila asks me.

“I have no idea.”

“He’ll have the apple crumble too,” Autumn says, taking the menu from me and handing it to Sheila with a smile. The waitress disappears and my companion turns her attention back to me.

“What if I don’t like apple crumble?” I ask.

“You’ll love it, trust me. Everyone loves it. Anyway.” She does this funny little hair flip thing every time she changes a subject, as if the vocal cues aren’t enough and she thinks I need a visual cue as well. “You’re really trying to make it in the music industry?”

“Oh.” I’d completely forgotten we’d been talking about this. “Yeah. Yes I am.”

“So what the hell are you doing playing sets up here in Wheat Ridge? We aren’t exactly going to get you a lot of exposure.”

“I just like the atmosphere here, I guess.” I shrug. “And any exposure is good, right? I have five other days in the week to play other places.”

“Well, I’m really glad you play here,” she tells me. I feel like she’s staring through me with those bright green eyes of hers and it gives me chills. “It’s the highlight of my week, watching you play.”

“Thanks.” I can’t help grinning at the compliment. “It’s the highlight of my week playing for you.”

She smiles and blushes a little, then stares down into her cup of coffee. Sheila comes back with our apple crumbles and she glances between us briefly before telling us to enjoy our dessert in this tone that makes it sound like it’s really very doubtful that we will enjoy it. I ignore it though and think there’s no way I could ever enjoy anything more.

That is until I walk Autumn home and she slips her hand into mine as we through the fallen leaves coating the sidewalk, the full moon lighting up the sky above.

2. Fall Apart Today

I do not understand women. I know that’s probably the most obvious statement in the world, seeing as I am a man and men, in general, do not understand women. But sometimes I feel like I understand women even less than the average male. I know it’s probably not true, but sometimes it’s hard not to feel sorry for yourself when you’re completely confused by the actions of a member of the opposite sex.

Two weeks ago, I was walking one Miss Autumn Burke home late at night, hand in hand, and feeling like I was the luckiest man in the world. Which is sort of lame in and of itself, but we don’t need to get into that right now. The point is, I was finally making some progress. But since then? Things are exactly the same as they were before. She still smiles at me and gives me the remaining coffee at the end of the night, but she makes no effort for conversation and she always disappears before I have a chance to say much at all to her.

Don hasn’t been much help. I asked for his advice about the situation and all he could say was, “Chicks are fucked up, dude. Don’t even worry about it.” I can tell you one thing, I certainly didn’t become friends with the guy because of his insight.

And I hate to admit it, but it’s really been getting to me. I’ve started spending so much time up in Wheat Ridge at that coffee shop, hoping for a chance to talk to Autumn and find out what’s going on, that people are starting to think I’ve moved up there. It’s all well and good to live in a small town where you know everyone, but for everyone in said small town to know you because you’re obsessing over a girl is not nearly as nice and charming.

I swear to God I’m not usually like this. I’m just really into this girl and I got the impression from the hand holding (which, might I remind you, she initiated) and such that she was kind of into me too. It’s hard not to obsess a little when you thought you knew what was going on in your life and you suddenly find out that you don’t. Don says I’m acting like a girl. I don’t think he’s being fair. But, like I said before, I can’t say I wouldn’t say the exact same thing to him if he were acting the way I’ve been acting. I know he’s right, I just don’t want to admit it.

On the bright side, I’ve been writing some pretty kickass songs in those hours spent up in Wheat Ridge. I’m supposed to start recording my demo in a week and I think some of the stuff I’ve come up with lately is better than a lot of the songs I’ve been playing for years. So maybe I should thank Autumn for screwing with my head.
Tonight I’ve just finished playing a kickass set of those kickass songs, if I do say so myself. I’m feeling pretty good about myself right now, so I’ve made up my mind to make Autumn talk to me when she comes back out with my coffee whether she likes it or not. Naturally, I hope she’ll like it, but you can’t always have everything, right?

It seems like hours pass before she’s finally walking towards me with my coffee and that smile on her face. She hands it to me and says, “great set tonight. I’ll see you later,” then turns to walk away.

“Autumn, wait,” I stop her immediately. She turns to face me, looking at me expectantly and suddenly I’m not feeling so confident anymore. Seriously, I used to be really good at the whole girl thing. Trust me on this. If you don’t believe me, I have many former girlfriends you are free to call. I’m sure they’ll back me up on this. Well, most of them. Don’t call Carrie, she hates my guts. Tanya, too. Also, I wouldn’t recommend mentioning my name to Alisa. The rest of them will definitely back me up, though.

“Yeah?” Autumn asks when I don’t say anything.

“I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something.” I pat the spot next to me, inviting her to sit down and she does. “Listen, I don’t want this to sound weird or anything, but…you know I really like you, right?”

“Oh.” It’s more understanding than the surprised tone that she usually takes when she says, “oh,” and I’m not really sure whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing. I wait for her to say something else, confirming or denying that she knows about my feelings, but she seems to feel that she’s given an appropriate response and now she’s just staring at her feet.

“Yeah,” I continue. “I mean, the other night when we went and got dessert, I guess I just thought that you…well, I thought maybe you kind of felt the same way, but now-“

“I know,” she cuts me off. “I know, I’m sorry, I probably shouldn’t have gone with you that night. I’m sorry.”

“Oh.” She may as well have just punched me in the stomach, because that’s how I feel now. Winded and hurt and like I can’t really respond to what she just said. I’m also more than a little confused. “So you’re not…? I mean, you’re not interested?”

“No, it’s not that,” she responds hastily. “I was. I mean, I am. Sort of. It’s just…I’ve got a lot on my plate right now, Justin, and I really don’t think that I should be getting involved with anyone. I’m sorry if I led you on. I mean, I know I kind of did. I guess I wanted it to work out or something, but after I went home I thought about it and…I just really don’t want to date anyone right now. You understand, right?”

No. “Yeah, of course.”

“Good. I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

She smiles and gives me a kiss on the cheek and I almost forget that she just said anything I didn’t want to hear. She reaches towards my guitar and looks at me for permission.

“Do you mind?”

“No, go ahead.”

She starts strumming and we both sit there silently for a few minutes as she does so. I had no idea that she even knew how to play the guitar, but she’s sitting here playing it like it’s all she’s ever done in life. It’s kind of beautiful and it might make me like her even more if I weren’t feeling so confused right now.

“Do you want to go get something to eat?” I finally ask her. I hastily add, “You know, just as friends.”

She smiles, keeping her gaze more on the guitar than on me. “I’m not so sure that’s such a good idea.”

“Oh. Right. Sure.”

“I could really go for some pickles right now, though, I’m not gonna lie,” she continues amidst the music she’s playing. “And ice cream. That’s all I’ve wanted to eat lately. Pickles and ice cream. Yesterday I felt like I was gonna die if I didn’t get some.”

“Yeah, my cousin used to have cravings like that,” I reply. “But that was when she was pregnant.”

Autumn just glances at me and smiles, then returns her gaze back to her fingers and the way they’re moving across the guitar strings. “Yeah.”

“Oh.” Something about the way she says, “yeah,” makes it click for me. Sheila’s reaction to Autumn’s request for decaf coffee, the comment that she has too much on her plate right now, the cravings…God, I had no idea. She can’t be that far along yet, she isn’t even showing. “Oh!”

“Yeah,” she repeats. She’s still smiling, but it’s more of a sad smile now, and now I can’t help asking…

“Where’s the father?”

“Oh, he’s, uhh…it’s complicated,” she laughs. “We broke up about two weeks before I found out because he was going away to Iraq and we just thought it was best if we didn’t try to keep things going while he was gone. Then, of course, I find out I’m pregnant. Figures, right?”

“Did you tell him?”

“Yeah. That was a great telephone conversation.” She laughs again. “Actually, he was really good about it. Said he would be there for me and the baby and we’d figure it all out when he got back. I just felt bad, you know? The last thing he needed over there was to be worrying about me and a baby.”

“It’s not your fault,” I assure her. My heart is practically exploding with emotions right now. Between the shock at finding out this girl I’ve been infatuated with for what has now been months is pregnant with another man’s baby and the sympathy I feel for her, I don’t think I’ve ever felt so sick with my feelings.

“I know, but still.” She glances at me again and smiles that smile I’ve grown to love so much.

We’re both silent again for a while and I sit there in my shock listening to her play my guitar and trying to decide what else I should say. This isn’t exactly a situation that I encounter every day and I have no idea how to handle it. Why didn’t anyone tell me?

“Does that have words?” I finally opt to talk to her about whatever it is she’s playing. It seems safe enough.

She nods.

“Can I hear them?”

She nods again and without another word, she begins singing.

I don't want us to fall apart today or ever
You're the one who said you'd never leave
There's no good reason for giving up
All this mess is just bad luck
So please don't lose your confidence in me

I immediately regret asking to hear the lyrics. It’s obvious who they’re about, and somehow that didn’t even occur to me. Her voice is beautiful and the melody is beautiful, but none of that can drown out the awful feeling that I’m getting from hearing her sing about this other man.

I wish I wasn't so fragile
‘Cause I know that I'm not easy to handle

Oh baby please
Don't forget you love me
Don't forget you love me
Today
Oh my baby please
Don't forget you love me
Don't forget you love me
Today

I don't wanna feel like this
But I'm so tired of missing you
I don't wanna beg for your time
I want you mine, all mine

I wish I wasn't so fragile
‘Cause I know that I'm not easy to handle

Oh baby please
Don't forget you love me…

Her voice cracks as she begins the chorus again and when she stops singing, I realize that there are a few tears rolling down her cheek. For a minute I don’t know what to do because I’m a man and we’re generally not good at dealing with crying girls, but then I do what I know I have to and put my arm around her. Her head drops onto my shoulder and I can hear her sniffling that much more clearly. I try to think of something comforting to say, but I’m not very good at that either.

“Hey, it’s okay,” I try to assure her. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. When he comes back I’m sure you guys will get back together and everything will be fine. You’ll see.”

At this, she starts crying harder and I immediately wish I’d just kept my mouth shut. I obviously just said the completely wrong thing and I have no idea why until she finally speaks through her tears.

“He’s not coming back,” she says. “He's...he's gone. He’s not coming back.”

I’m suddenly overcome with the feeling that I’m going to puke and for the millionth time tonight I have no idea how to respond to her. So I don’t respond, instead just opting to wrap my other arm around her as she continues crying onto my shoulder. Over her head I can see it’s started snowing outside. It’s only the first week of November and normally it wouldn’t be snowing yet, but lately it’s just been colder than usual and I’m not really surprised to see the flakes falling, making the bare trees look sad and melancholy.