Page 25 of Autumn on My Mind

My long, drawn-out sigh sends a few strands of my dark hair flying as I look up at Dominic. He’s caught me on the way out of engineering, leaning with one shoulder against the wall, his arms folded, his black backpack on the floor. There’s no baseball hat, sadly, but he makes a plaid jacket look incredible.

“I didn’t think you were here today,” I say with a nod to the auditorium doors I’ve just exited.

He grabs his bag and swings it carelessly over his shoulder before falling into stride with me. “Sometimes I stick around and do homework outside,” he says. “I don’t have to come every class.”

“Lucky,” I mutter.

He lets out a quiet huff of laughter. “It’s not going so hot, huh?”

I swing my narrowed eyes up to him, but all I’m feeling is sheepishness. “Like you don’t already know.”

His lips twitch, his eyes twinkling as he shrugs. “I’ve heard admitting you have a problem is the first step to improvement. I’m helping you on your journey.”

“My journey toward a good grade?” I say as I try not to laugh.

He nods sagely.

“What’s the second step?”

“Attending the study sessions would be a good start.”

He’s probably right.

We’re only two weeks into the semester, but already a lot of this classwork is over my head. My roommates—social butterflies who want to do ALL the things in ALL the places—have dragged me all over campus and town in the name of “distraction” and “relaxation.”

To be fair, I really do like them. I’ve gotten to know them better over the last couple weeks, and even though they were friends long before they ever met me, they still try to include me whenever they go do something. They’re not bad to live with, either.

I’m trying to do my part and not be a recluse. If they extend a hand of fellowship, I should accept and be grateful. I have thus attended one football game, one afternoon of manicures, and two roommate lunches.

The afternoon of manicures overlapped with one of the optional study sessions put on by the TAs, and I didn’t regret missing it at the time, but I’m regretting it now.

“I have learned my lesson,” I say as we reach the doors; Dominic pushes one open and holds it for me. I pass through, and then he follows.

“Have you?” he says with a look of good-natured skepticism. “Because you’ve missed both of the study meetings.”

I shuffle my feet as we walk, not sure what to say. People don’t usually understand about my mother. They think she’s weird or high-maintenance or dramatic. And she is all of those things.

But she’s also still my mother.

“My mom is getting a divorce,” I finally settle on, and the words sound strange coming out of my mouth. The woman who gave birth to me is always called Alvina or my mother—I haven’t called her Mom since I was in grade school, even when talking to other people. “She’s been going through a bit of a rough time, so I’ve been spending a lot of time with her.”

To be clear: The support Alvina needs and the support she thinks she needs are not the same. What Alvina needs is a therapist, in my humble opinion. Instead she’s divorcing from the man she married after my dad died—in my head I’ve been calling him the Post-Dad Husband—and going on a lot of shopping sprees, many of which she requires my presence for.

Alvina likes having someone to make her feel important, and that someone is often me.

Dad anchored her. He gave her someplace to return to any time she wandered off, physically or emotionally. He fell in love with her when they were young, when she was steadier and less volatile. His love remained even as they grew and changed.

Dominic hums in understanding but doesn’t say anything else as we walk. The once-vibrant leaves that crunched on the ground are now dull and slicked to the pavement from this morning’s rain, the scent of which still lingers heavy in the air.

I should have worn a raincoat, not just a sweater. The autumn sky up there looks awfully gloomy.

“Where are you headed?” I say as we meander down the path that cuts across the campus’s main courtyard and leads to the student center.

“Library,” he says, nodding to the large building next to the student center. “You could come, if you wanted.” A smile flickers over his face. “You got the study packet from Sallow, don’t you? I can answer any questions you have about the stuff in there.”

It’s an appealing offer, for multiple reasons, but…

“I have to work,” I say with a sigh.