Page 91 of Before You Say Goodbye

“Please don’t drink any more,” she whispered instead. Her gentleness had the desired effect. His face softened. He put his cup down on her countertop, took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and held one out to her. She hid the mug of wine he had given her behind her back and accepted his offering. She wasn’t sure quite how she could get out of smoking it and didn’t want to think about why it seemed so important to her that she did.

“Who was that guy?” Marley asked. Autumn had been hoping he wouldn’t. She inhaled from the cigarette, held the smoke in her mouth for a few seconds and then released a cloud of it dramatically into the air. That was not how she typically smoked and she was glad that he was drunk and unlikely to be paying too much attention.

“Just some guy,” she said.

“Classy.” He leered at her. She glared at him.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” she said. She suspected that his comment was driven by jealousy rather than judgement. There had been something possessive in the way he’d told her to put her clothes on when he’d burst into her bedroom.

“I’m trying not to fall apart here,” Autumn said.

It was the closest she’d come to telling anyone she wasn’t coping. That she’d had frightening moments where she’d thought about throwing herself out of the window, or slitting her wrists, or jumping in front of a subway train. She willedhim to ask her if she needed his help. His eyes met hers. She saw recognition in them, a deep understanding, and then he shrugged any compassion he might’ve shown her away.

“You can’t use your groin to fight depression,” he said. “Trust me, I’ve been trying.”

“What do I do then?” she asked, stubbing out her cigarette without a second drag. “How am I supposed to do this, Marley?”

“You wait,” he said. “Either it will beat you eventually, or it won’t.”

“I don’t want it to beat me,” she said. “I want to live.”

“Then don’t kill yourself,” he said. “It’s that simple.”

He rocked on his feet again and looked as though he might be sick. Autumn moved to steady him this time. She placed one hand on each of his upper arms, hoping that he wouldn’t fall forward and bracing her elbows protectively in front of her stomach in case he did. She stared up at him. He was taller than she remembered. She saw his eyes focus on her lips in response.

“Don’t.” She turned her face away. He sighed, pulling her into an unsteady hug. She leaned rigidly against his chest at first and then let herself relax into his embrace. She felt immensely cared for, just as she had whenever Bowie held her. She wound her hands around him and over his back. He cradled her tightly, stroking her hair. She started to cry.

“I’m not him,” he whispered.

“I know,” she said, burying her gulping sobs in his coat.

“You can pretend I am whenever you need me to be,” he said. “I won’t mind.”

She knew that the offer, although weird, was coming from the right place. She grabbed his hand and led him to her bedroom to get some sleep. He let her push him down onto the duvet and tried to persuade her to get into bed with him when she took off his shoes and socks. She refused, instead kneelingon the floorboards beside the bed to stroke his hair. He watched her intently and then closed his eyes.

“I miss him so much, Autumn,” he whispered. He drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Autumn sat beside him all night. Every now and then, he’d stir and look at her. Sometimes he’d murmur something unintelligible. She’d reach out to stroke his cheek gently and he’d smile and slip swiftly back into a deep, drunken slumber.

At first light, Autumn clambered to her feet and stretched out her limbs. Her back ached and her hips were sore. She’d longed, hour after hour, to lie on the mattress beside Marley, but had resisted climbing into bed beside him. Still, she had not felt strong enough to tear herself away from him to sleep on the sofa. He had not exactly been great company, but his presence had already been a comfort to her lonely heart.

Autumn craved food for the first time in a while, so she pulled on her jacket and searched for her purse. She would make breakfast for them both. It would give her something to do while she waited for him to wake and they could talk seriously about how they were going to survive this when he did. She swallowed her pride and called his mother from the supermarket.

“Are you OK, Autumn?” Emma asked, forgoing any greeting.

“I’m fine. Everything’s fine. Honestly, Emma. I’m just so sorry.”

Emma accepted her apology with a sigh saturated with irritation. Autumn was surprised to hear such exasperation from such a typically forgiving woman, but she couldn’t blame Emma.

“What are you two trying to do to me?” Emma asked. There was a tinkle of amusement in her tone this time. “You and Marley? You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you? Damn you both. It’s a conspiracy. It’s the only explanation that makes sense to me.”

Autumn heard herself laugh out loud. She apologised again, from the bottom of her heart.

“Marley is sleeping in my apartment,” she added. “And I’m quite sure that we’re both going to be fine. Eventually.”

Emma sounded incredibly relieved. “In all seriousness, my love, you are both going to need therapy.”

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