Page 70 of Before You Say Goodbye

She tossed a pair to Autumn. They would complete her outfit perfectly. She smiled, thanking her friend and pouring herself a glass of pinot grigio, their new drink of choice now that the prosecco had gone. She was shaking so violently that Bluebell had to hold the glass for her so that she didn’t spill it everywhere. Autumn was grateful for the help. She took a sip, standing redundantly in the middle of the room, unsure where to start with sorting herself out. Getting ready felt like a monumental task and she was on the verge of falling to pieces. She didn’t know how she was going to do it. She stared at the make-up and jewellery before her, completely overwhelmed.

Bluebell put on a nineties disco playlist and they sat Autumn in front of the mirror. She could tell that they’d been talking about how they might be able to do something to make her feel better. They were tender in their touch and gentle in their tone when they spoke to her. She was grateful for their love. Bluebell braided her hair, twisting it into a messy updo, while Maddie busied herself searching for the perfect eyeshadow to apply to Autumn’s eyelids. She focused on watching them make her over in the mirror as she sipped her wine and sang along to the songs she knew. She realised, to her delight, that, together, Bluebell and Maddie were curing her of her fear of other women. They were her friends and they showed that they loved her. They knew, without asking, how to support her. They rooted for her in all she did, and cared about her wellbeing. It felt wonderful.

“Go easy on the alcohol, my friend,” Bluebell suggested with a grin when they were done with her. They sat her on a beanbag in the corner to watch them getting ready themselves.

Autumn ruminated over her feelings and realised Bowie had made her feel like a little girl. Like a scolded child. This was the first time someone she really loved had been desperately disappointed in her. She’d hurt Bowie by ruining any opportunity he might have had to give his brother a reason to live. It didn’t get much more serious than that. True, she’d done it with the best of intentions but Bowie had asked her not to and she’d still gone against his wishes. In failing to respect his decisions, she had let him down as badly as his parents had. She felt terrible.

“I’m going to go and help Bowie get dressed, OK?” Maddie said when she was ready. She had given her yellow ballgown a stylishly edgy twist by tying a golden scarf through her hair and adding a bold gold brooch shaped like a snake. She looked phenomenal. Autumn opened her mouth to object, wanting to help him herself if she could.

“I absolutely swear to you that I will not tell him I know about what happened last night.” Maddie kissed Autumn’s forehead and left.

Autumn distracted herself from her worry by watching Bluebell getting dressed. Her friend was wearing charcoal-grey eyeshadow with barely any other make-up and was meticulously curling her glossy blonde hair until it looked as though she’d given herself a perm. Tonight, she would catch the eye of every single person in the room. It wasn’t like Bluebell to be so finicky about the way she looked. She was taking such care because this man, Vincent, would be there tonight. Autumn hoped that he would look at anything other than Bluebell, for Marley’s sake as well as her own. The way she was feeling, Autumn might kill him herself if he didn’t.

“Do you mind if I go and have a cigarette?” Autumn asked Bluebell. She wanted to sit on the porch and smoke for a bit. She’d numbed herself all afternoon with distraction and alcohol, and desperately needed some time to herself to think.

“Of course,” Bluebell said. “Leave Bowie alone though, Autumn. He’ll calm down in time. The last thing any of us need tonight is the two of you fighting.”

Autumn nodded in agreement and stood cautiously, afraid that she might wobble under the influence of too much white wine. She felt sturdy, actually. Strong.

“Thank you for getting me ready,” she said, slipping her dress on over her underwear before she left. “I feel lovely.”

“You look beautiful, Autumn.” Bluebell smiled. “Try to have a good night.”

Bowie’s family, minus Bluebell, were milling around in the hallway. They watched her as she came down the stairs. She heard someone murmur ‘wow’ from somewhere and bit her lip shyly, telling each of them, with sincerity, that they looked amazing. She looked for Bowie. He was sitting on his own at thekitchen table in a black tuxedo. He was staring at her, but didn’t speak. She smiled meekly at him, but he turned his face away. With difficulty, Autumn swallowed the lump in her throat.

“Can I have a cigarette?” she asked Marley.

“Sure,” he said. “I’ll come with you. You look lovely, by the way.”

“Thanks,” she said, her eyes darting back to Bowie. He was still glaring at the kitchen table.

“Nice tux,” she said, trying valiantly to engage him.

“Thanks,” he muttered, scratching at the wood with his fingernail. She felt the gaze of the others upon her, knew their eyes were flitting between her and Bowie, and the room fell into a brief awkward silence, but no one said anything. She understood. They were desperately ready for an evening of fun and were, no doubt, assuming that an evening of frivolity would ease whatever tension there was between Autumn and Bowie. Autumn hoped they might be right. She followed Marley outside.

“Seriously, Autumn?” he leaned against the porch fence and lit her a cigarette ? “you’re beautiful.”

She blushed, but didn’t say anything. He smiled sadly at her. She knew he was trying to make up for the compliments she’d not received from the man she loved, and was grateful for his attempts to make things better for her.

“Are you feeling OK about the song?” he asked her.

The song. She had almost forgotten all about it. She instantly felt the weight of it pressing down on her chest and resentment for Bowie flooded through her. All at once, she knew she’d been naive to think loving him would be enough to carry her through whatever they might face before he died, and she was frightened by how blatantly she couldn’t cope when he was angry with her. Just loving Bowie was not enough ? she needed him to get her through difficult times. She was upset he could abandon her like this and felt he was being unfair to her. She’d only been tryingto help. She desperately wanted his forgiveness, but had no idea how to make him understand that. Now, she would have to stand on a stage in front of hundreds of people and sing for him, and he wouldn’t even look at her. She stared at his brother in the porch light. Their similarity had never been so apparent. She had to fight everything inside her not to pull him into a hug. She wanted to beg him to pretend to be Bowie — just for a minute or two — and for him to throw his arms around her so she could bury her head in his chest.

“I think I’ll be fine,” she said. He eyed her suspiciously and opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the sound of a ruckus from the house.

“Marley!” they heard Emma scream. They’d both heard her scream like that once before. Stubbing out their cigarettes, they turned and ran into the house.

* * *

Bowie sat at the kitchen table, bent over and holding his chest. He was calling for her, and for Marley. Autumn pulled Bluebell out of the way and knelt in front of him. She whispered his name, reaching out to wrap her fingers around his fists. He clutched her hand and looked up at her. The fear she’d spent hours trying to ease for him the night before was etched, once again, all over his face. He rested his forehead against hers.

Emma and Ben were talking about hospitals but Bluebell, Maddie and Pip had set themselves between them and their brother. They were holding their hands out to stop their parents approaching their son.

“We’re going to the ball,” Bowie choked out.

“No, we’re not, Bow,” Marley said. He was kneeling beside Autumn. He’d put his hands on top of hers, where they rested on Bowie’s. She felt as though the three of them were holding his chest together.

“I’m OK,” Bowie said. “It’s just chest pain.”

---