“Not since Christmas, you?”
He shook his head. “If he ain’t called you, he’s not about to call me, instead.”
Spring
30.
Autumn stood in the middle of her newly furnished cabin, thanks to her friends and family that had come by to help. The living room had a couch, a chair, side tables, lamps, and a television. The kitchen had appliances, dishes, utensils, and food in the fridge. Her bedroom had a bed, a nightstand, a chest of drawers, a chair, and her clothes hung in the closet. In the baby’s room, Ben and Brandon argued while they assembled the crib. The place was feeling more and more like a home.
Weasel arrived with the pizza she ordered for her moving crew. As she mostly traveled by waddle and couldn’t bend to pick anything up, she was grateful for the group of friends around her. She settled back on the couch and watched Rebecca not get too close to Weasel. It appeared they had decided on some unspoken agreement of ignoring their attraction to each other. He handed her a plate of pizza, she gave him napkins... Their nonchalant behavior all felt a bit too measured.
Jason sat next to his sister on the couch as she asked, “How are you feeling?”
“Great,” he replied. His “crazy pills” (as he called them) had helped with the unpredictable mood swings, but had also zeroed out every bit of emotion a person could have. His demeanor became permanently monotone. Autumn could have enjoyed the peace that it brought, but pharmaceuticals were turning her brother into a zombie, and that wasn’t the outcome she’d hoped for. She didn’t doubt that the correct medications in the right situations were a lifesaver for many. This, however, wasn’t it.
“Okay,” Shirley announced. “We’re leaving.”
Autumn shuffled out onto the porch alongside Jason, looking back at all the food still left over. “You didn’t want pizza?”
Her parents descended the two steps into the yard. From the front of the cabin, only grass and hills were visible as far as the eye could see. The Huntington Farms property sat about a half a mile north of her front door. To the right, the forest line and the hill rose to the plateau while the jagged rock edges caught the last bits of light from the setting sun.
“Now, don’t forget you promised to drive your brother to his appointment next week,” Shirley reminded her daughter.
“Yes, I know, I will.”
“Mom, I don’t need you to remind her for me, I can do it,” Jason said.
Shirley shook her head, looking at Autumn. “Just don’t forget.” She leaned in and whispered, “Are you sure you want to move all the way out here?”
She sighed and nodded. “Of course. We’ve been over this.”
“I know what you said, but I don’t like you living out here all alone.”
Walter stepped in to the conversation to defend his daughter. “Now, Shirley…”
“I’m not all alone. The guys are right there.” She pointed in the direction of Ben and Brandon’s house.
“You have no idea how to tend to a baby. You can’t do that all alone. That’s why you should stay at home.”
Autumn took a deep breath as she slowly exhaled. “Mom, I will be fine.” Without another word, she turned and walked back into the cabin, where Hannah caught her frustration.
“What was that?” she asked.
“Oh, just my mom letting me know I can’t possibly do this on my own.” Autumn sighed.
Hannah crossed the room and wrapped her arms around Autumn. The next thing she knew, multiple pairs of arms surrounded her, squeezing her into a warm, group embrace.
“Okay, Okay,” she said. “Thanks for your support, but we aren’t some creepy cult.”
“I think we’re pretty close at this point,” Justin said.
“What would we name our cult?” Ben asked as everyone gathered around the open pizza boxes on the round kitchen table and divvied up the slices.
“Doomsday bringers,” Brandon said.
“No, no doom,” Autumn begged.
They pulled the pizza onto plates and moved back to the living area, where Autumn settled back into the couch along with Hannah and Rebecca. Ben took the overstuffed chair while Brandon sat on the ottoman, and Justin and Weasel found spots on the area rug across from the couch. Her friends filled her new living room with happiness, adding to the joy already in her heart.