If Only I Had Told Her

by Laura Nowlin

and I’d rather give away all my games than lose a minute of whatever has been happening between us since Jamie broke up with her.

We weren’t touching, but it felt like the atoms between us were warm with my love for her.

He’s always known that I was still in love with Autumn after all these years, in spite of my being mostly happy with Sylvie.

Sylvie could be anything she wants if she just stops caring what the wrong people think about her.

She makes a soft noise, the sort of noise I wish I could be responsible for while she is awake and consenting.

Oh-

Why must she have a perfect face too? I never stood a chance. Even before she grew breasts. I need to stop this train of thought. Might as well get this over with then.

I’m the problem. My heart gets confused when she looks at me with affection that’s only natural given our history.

like Sylvie. She’s disturbingly good at hiding how much pain she’s in.”

“I’m going to break up with Sylvie when she gets home tomorrow.”

How am I going to live the rest of my life in love with Autumn Davis with no hope of reciprocation?

I was able to speak up those times, berate them for their disgusting observations, because I agreed with them. I wanted what they wanted or had seen the sight they recalled. Their words were a grotesque reflection of my own feelings.

Uhh

She needs to know it’s much worse than she thinks. My love for her is the closest thing I have to religion.

I need to convince both myself and Jack that when Autumn does meet someone again, I’ll be ready to let her go this time.

“Break up with Sylvie tomorrow. Call me after. Think about what I said.”

Not that I’m trying to see her in any state of undress.

I cannot look back and say when I fell in love with Autumn Rose. Something I felt for her before I even learned to read had grown and sharpened as we grew up together.

“And sometimes,” she continued, “really good friends go through periods when they aren’t that close, and that’s okay. They still care about each other. Later, maybe they become close again, or maybe they become something more than friends. Maybe.”

“The thing to do is focus on what makes you feel good about yourself, like school and soccer. You have your new friend Jack. You can remind yourself, ‘Autumn is where she wants to be right now, and that’s okay.

You are here, in this moment, right now, I tell myself as the frigid water batters my fevered skin. The reality is, what you imagined will never happen, and what you remembered is already done. In this moment, Autumn is your friend. Don’t fuck this up. But be ready for when she leaves again.

My devotion to Autumn is engraved on my very being. I am in awe of her. I will sit in the stands and cheer her on in life as her most ardent admirer. I know I will always love her in the same way I know I’ll always need oxygen.

Books are Autumn’s real life. She is made of the stories she has read.

So after I punched the wall all those weeks ago, I rubbed my bruised knuckles, checked the wall for divots, and thought, There’s some Heathcliff passion for you, Autumn. Now Jamie can get you pregnant, and I’ll give myself a concussion on a tree when you go into labor. Autumn brings out the worst in me, and it’s not her fault.

Pardon?

It happens mostly when she’s depressed, and if her mom is any indication, depression is going to be a lifelong thing for her.

“No.” I’m not going to hold back. I say it. “After we turned thirteen. Why did you have to leave me like that?”

“I already know why you did it.” She doesn’t have to explain that part. I know she’s never wanted me like that. I don’t need to hear her say it. “I just want to know why you had to be so cruel about it.”

“I’m sorry. I hate myself for hurting you.”

“Don’t say that.” She sounds sadder than I’ve ever heard her sound before. “Don’t say you’re sorry for that.”

“I never know what to do to make you happy, do I?” She answers so quickly that it surprises me. “You make me happier than any other person ever has.”

All apologies, every apology, is forgotten, and my lips are on hers. I am only my lips. No other part of me exists. Autumn. I’m kissing Autumn.

I’m simply a soul existing ecstatically in the universe. Time and space are meaningless, temporary, inconsequential to me.

I try to be grateful for the breast that is pressing against my chest, but the other one is also right there.

Bruh im xrying

Again, I have that feeling that there must be a catch, that fate will not allow me to be with her; but when I look back at Autumn and see her quietly and calmly watching me, waiting for whatever I say or do next, I realize that it doesn’t matter.

“We can’t double our chances of you getting pregnant,” I say, even though I’m kissing her neck now and doing nothing to stop her hand.

Tomorrow is going to be wonderful, and the day after and the day after, because I am hers. Tonight is the only concern, and that’s mine alone.

Well....

“Well, of course we’d each have to break up to be together. The story of whatever suspicious thing was seen at the party would get spread and exaggerated. There’s no avoiding that chapter. We’d be the center of a scandal, ostracized for being cheaters. Or I don’t know… Everyone likes you, so maybe it wouldn’t have been that rough for you?”

Be so fr

“We have forever,” I whisper into her hair, and then I wonder if forever is too much for her.

Well

I’ll show her every day, for as long as she wants me.

turn onto the street and drive down the hill as the rain starts.

If only I’d told her that I loved her years ago, I wouldn’t be here now. Because she loved me. She loved me this whole time.

I fall to my knees in front of Sylvie, putting my hand to the ground. It’s wet—

I need to tell Finn that he can break up with Sylvie over the phone. That’s the solution.

There’s no medicine for this pain.

What if it was mistaken identity or a mix-up at the hospital? Alexis said Sylvie saw him herself. Saw him dead. Dead. Finn. This is a new world. Finn is dead. I am numb.

Finn Smith has done everything he will ever do. He won’t get to be with Autumn. The memory of his joy last night hits me again.

Autumn laughs, coughs, and winces. “No,” she chokes out. “Alexis is probably hosting an unofficial wake and making this all about herself.” Her face tightens in a way I can’t read. “I was asking about Sylvie.”

“I thought you should know that he was really, really happy.”

“I was afraid he would change his mind when he saw her,” Autumn says. I can barely hear her. “That—no—There’s no way.” I don’t know how to explain this to her. I don’t know Autumn, not really, and this is such an intimate but vital thing that I need her to understand, for Finn’s sake. I push past the catch in my throat. “Nope. No way. Autumn, he’s been in love with you for as long as I’ve known him.”

I try again. “Like, fairy-tale love? Cartoon character with hearts floating all around him? Or a movie montage with the best song? That’s what you were to him.” I’m sniffling, but I need to finish. “You were the biggest, most impossible dream for him.” I press the tears away with my fingers before they can fall.

“Finn loved you,” I say, confidently. “He was coming back to you. You can be certain of that.”

“Life can be and often is fiercely cruel,” she continues. “You and Autumn have learned that a little younger than most, but you all, including Finny, would have had to learn it eventually.” Her voice falters. She takes a deep breath and gives me a weak smile. “Angelina and I already knew that about life. She—we’ve—losing a child is the worst, but we’ll survive, because we must. We all will, including Autumn. Including you.”