Filed to story: If He Had Been With Me Book PDF Free
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.
When the nurse returns, he says, “You’re on her approved visitors list now, but you still have to wait another half hour.” He eyes the bag in my hand. “Is that for her?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m going to have to go through it. And she can’t have a plastic bag. I’ll give you a paper one.”
I pass him the bag and am grateful that I took out the condoms before coming. He roots around, looking for drugs or a knife, I guess. I think about the plastic bag being a danger to Autumn.
The nurse dumps the bag’s contents into a paper sack and hands it to me. I smile and say thanks. This must be a tense place to work.
The half hour goes by quickly, because I’m trying to figure out what to say to Autumn. The waiting room fills with other visitors, but the room stays silent. Before I’m ready, the nurse tells us that we can follow him, and we’re led to what looks like a school cafeteria.
The other visitors seem to know the drill, and everyone sits down at their own table. I pick one and look around the room. It even smells like a school cafeteria. There’s a beep and a dull thud. A different set of doors opens.
Autumn emerges from the group of strangers. I watch her scan the tables before she sees me. Her blank expression doesn’t change as she starts toward me.
“Hi.” She slips into the chair across from me.
“Hey,” I say. “Um, how are you?”
She looks like a store mannequin modeling baggy clothes.
“Even on a regular day, I’ve never known how to answer that question.”
She doesn’t look at me but up and over my shoulder, as if the answer is in the air.
“I think most people lie,” I tell her.
Autumn doesn’t smile, but her shoulders relax a bit, and she starts to look more like herself, so I continue.
“Everyone always says they’re fine. Everyone can’t be fine all the time. We all just pretend it’s true.”
“I guess I’m not good at pretending,” she says.
“Maybe you used to be too good at pretending.”
Autumn cocks her head to the side.
I try to untangle my thoughts. “Finn talked about you being depressed, and I could never see it. No one at school could. I thought he was—or you were—“
Am I seriously about to tell her that up until Finn died, I thought she was a fake?
“I’m pregnant,” Autumn blurts out.
We stare at each other.
What?
“Sorry. I don’t know why I said that. It’s hard to think about anything else.”
“And Finn—“
“Of course.”
I burst out laughing, which is probably better than calling her fake, but still. She looks confused and perhaps even alarmed, so I try to explain.
“I cleaned out Finn’s car for Angelina, and this was under the seat. He bought this stuff right before—” I clear my throat and push the bag across the table toward her. “I thought you should have this.
I probably should have given this to you then. Sorry.” I pause. “It’s more proof that he was coming back to you.”
Autumn reaches out and touches the bag but doesn’t open it.
“I laughed because, well, if you look at the receipt, he bought some—” I give up.
She opens the bag and touches the candy in a way that makes me think of his mother. She glances at me and takes out the receipt. She scans it and laughs too.
Then she blushes, and I look away. When I glance back, she’s stroking the candy packets tenderly.
“That’s a lot of candy,” I say.
“There’s only one place that sells these. Finny never liked that gas station. He only went there to get these for me. Maybe he was trying to avoid it for a while.”
“Why didn’t he like it?”
“I don’t know.” Autumn pauses, then picks up a packet and opens it.
“Maybe he thought it was unsafe for some reason?” I venture. “You know how safety conscious he was.”
Autumn pauses with the candy dipstick in her hand. “I never thought of Finny that way, but I suppose you’re right.” I’m honestly stunned until she says, “I always thought of him as protective.”
It makes sense, the way we’re seeing the same trait through our different lenses.
“Have you told his mom yet?” I ask.
Autumn shakes her head. “You’re the first person I told. I found out a week ago. I’m still trying to wrap my head around it.” She’s finally dipping the stick in her candy powder and stirring it slowly.
“But you’re going to make a go of it and all that?”
“Yeah, I want to have it. I don’t know what I’d do if Finny were alive though.” She puts the candy stick in her mouth and gazes at the table. She sort of laughs and shrugs.
She’s pregnant. Autumn’s going to have Finn’s baby.
Finn’s baby.