Page 101 of Autumn on My Mind

“No way.” Chop, chop, chop.

“Dom,” I say with a sigh, reaching over to turn off the music. The kitchen falls silent except for the sound of Dom’s knife.

Chop, chop, chop.

I try again. “Dominic.”

Chopchopchopchopchop.

Then silence, and then, finally, he plunks his knife down too. The yellow peppers look more like salsa by now, but I wisely keep this to myself.

“If we tell them we dated, we’ll have to explain,” he says wearily. “Everything will come out. Are you okay with that?”

His tone of voice tells me that he is not okay with it.

“It would be fine, Dom,” I say, but he shakes his head.

“You would be fine. But I wouldn’t. How—” He breaks off and then pins me with a look as bitter storm clouds gather, hands balling into fists at his sides. “How am I supposed to look my dad in the eye and tell him I got both of us expelled from college?”

And there it is. My breath catches at the truth of the matter, the words we’ve been skirting around—not as simple as he makes it sound, but ugly nonetheless.

“Well?” he prods. “How do I tell our parents that I ruined your life?”

It takes half a second for me to figure out why his words cut.

“Hey,” I say sharply, louder than I mean to. “What part of my life is—is ruined?” I swallow and push away the image of my storage shed home, of my late nights doing dull work, of my mother’s scathing indifference. “Maybe I’m not doing what I thought I’d do when I was ten, but what’s so bad about that?”

The bitterness in Dom’s eyes clears, replaced by faint surprise. His tightened fists relax. “I didn’t mean⁠—”

“It’s a little complicated, but I have a great life,” I cut him off, tilting my chin up. “I don’t have a house right now”—did Alvina even wonder where I’d gone? Did she care?—“but I’ll get an apartment.” I swallow. “I’m allowed to work an online job even if it’s not fancy. And I love—I love Bugelbach’s.”

“I know you do,” Dom says, softer now. “I didn’t mean—” His throat bobs. “I didn’t mean you shouldn’t love your life. Or that it’s not worth loving.”

“Because it is. It’s a great life.” I sound so stupidly defiant.

“It is,” Dom says quickly, taking a step closer. “Of course it is.” He pauses. “Maybe I’m being too hard on myself.”

I shake my head and force myself to take steady breaths, trying to get rid of the knot in my throat. “You are, but that’s not what I mean.” I pause and then let the words out, rushing forward until I couldn’t stop them if I tried. “I loved you, Dom, but you didn’t have the power to ruin my life.” My inhale is shakier now. “Whether you dated me or loved me or even cared for me at all”—and she must care, right? She’s my mother, and mothers care for their children—“I would have been fine.” My vision blurs as something breaks through, a bloom bursting through oppressive soil in search of the sun, until I repeat the words so loudly they echo throughout the kitchen, ringing into the silence: “I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”

I don’t know which one of us realizes it first—that I’m no longer talking about Dominic. But by the time he’s reached me, understanding is in his eyes. He pulls my hair away from my face where it’s stuck to my skin, then wipes my tears with swiping thumbs beneath my eyes.

“You will be,” he says as his hands continue to move over my face, my hair, aimless and smoothing and gentle. “You are. You’re fine, sweet—” He breaks off as the endearment tries to slip from his lips. “Reese,” he corrects himself softly. “No matter who comes or who stays or who goes. You’ll be just fine.”

And he looks, for a second, like he wants to say more—but then he sighs, slides his hand to the back of my head, and tugs me closer, wrapping his arms around me in a hug.

Like a bird loves the sky, my heart says over and over, until it grows wings of its own that spread and take to the wind. Like a bird loves the sky.

It could be hours we stand there, or minutes. My tears slow as my numb body begins to thaw, until Dom tilts his lips down to speak in my ear.

“Go sit on the couch and turn on a movie,” he says. “I’ll cook. Onion included.”

SIX YEARS AGO || DECEMBER

Cloud Nine isn’t so far when you feel like you can fly.

It’s possibly the cheesiest thing I’ve ever said or thought, but it’s true—Dominic makes me feel like I could float away happily, lifted by dreamy, cheerful balloons.

I do my best to stay firmly planted on the ground, of course, because I have grades to maintain. But my mind and my heart race far ahead, and no matter how I try, I can’t seem to stop them.