If Only I Had Told Her

by Laura Nowlin

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.

This is heaven: her forehead pressed into me, her head under my arm, and my hand on her shoulder. We found each other by instinct.

It’s more like Autumn is a real princess but from an alien planet. She is the most confident and insecure person I’ve ever known.

It is cosmically unfair how beautiful Autumn is. It puts me at such a disadvantage. Her brilliant, goofy brain was already enough. Why must she have a perfect face too?

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

She needs to know it’s much worse than she thinks. My love for her is the closest thing I have to religion. But it’s okay that she doesn’t feel the same. I’m fine. I can handle it.

It’s a silly thought to have, but the point remains: 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.

Stop

Maybe you are the two stupidest people on earth who somehow don’t realize you’re in love with each other,

There was this fundraiser. For two dollars, a red or white carnation would be delivered with a card to the person of your choosing. The banner said, “White Carnations Are for Your Friends!” leaving us to figure out for ourselves what red ones meant. I sent Autumn two carnations, one white and one red, one with my name and the other signed “Your Secret Admirer.” I overheard The Mothers saying that Autumn had received a total of four red carnations signed exactly that way. No one sent me anything.

AWH :(

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.

I don’t think Jamie ever understood Autumn.

Autumn brings out the worst in me, and it’s not her fault.

She is comely, hallowed, and impervious. My love for her is vehement, protracted, and interminable.

The word was pulchritudinous (I pulled her to me after Christmas).

corny. I love it.

Instinct takes over, and I cross the room, pulling her into my arms the way I have dreamed of so many times before, with so many different tenors of emotions and desire.

Autumn’s sobs reverberate in my chest as she presses her sweet face against me, and it is proof I am awful. I am taking such pleasure in comforting Autumn. Just as I have been all summer, ever since Jamie made me the happiest man alive by breaking Autumn’s heart. My Autumn. No, Phineas, not yours.

IM GONE

I want to stroke her hair, her back, kiss the top of her head. I can’t. I won’t. Autumn.

I love her next to me. I love hearing her react to the random madness of local radio stations. I love holding her hands beneath mine on the steering wheel, showing her that she will be able to drive if she trusts herself.

I don’t want to be like all the asshole guys who can’t see past her body, but I can’t only be her friend. Not if I am this close to her. Not if my feelings are so much more than a friend’s.

There’s this song from a band I discovered that I want her to hear because, well, to be honest, there’re a few songs on this album that make me think of her. The opening song reminds me of this summer with her, the nervous energy of us being out at night in my car, even if we aren’t together in quite the same way. It’s safe to put on this CD and pretend it isn’t a message to her, because I’m filling the silence and she’s still in her head.

I shouldn’t be enjoying this moment so much. I’ve done nothing to earn it. Autumn is trusting me to be the friend she needs, yet here I am, whispering the lyrics, pretending I’m singing them to her.

Crying

Sometimes love is heavy, but tonight it is making me light and free. I’m grateful to have this time with her. It’s almost enough.

Crying p2

I want to drive with her like this for the rest of the night, for the rest of our lives.

“I scared you?” Autumn’s tears have started to spill over. “I wasn’t ready.” She drags the heel of her hand across her cheek like a small child. “And I didn’t know what to think.” She wasn’t ready? I scared her. This is too much to take in. I sit down at the foot of the bed. I’m facing my window, her window, and I can’t bear that, so I look down at my hands. She wasn’t ready? And I scared her. I’d clenched her arm. I’d tried to be romantic, but I’d missed her cues.

IM CRYIN

“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.”

“What if I kissed you right now?” She takes a quick breath, and I am already dead. Autumn says, “That would make me happy.”

im gone

Greedily, I pull her toward me. As I lean in, I hit her nose with mine. I’m about to apologize when she turns her face, and her lips are so close. All apologies, every apology, is forgotten, and my lips are on hers. I am only my lips. No other part of me exists.

“It’s okay. Don’t cry,” I say, because all the other things I want to say can’t seem to find their way out. You are safe. I kiss her eyes. You are cherished. I kiss her forehead. I’ll be whatever you need me to be after this. I kiss her cheek. Whatever you want me to be. I kiss her other cheek. “Don’t cry. It’s okay.”

ok.

I’ll love her even if she turns out to be cruel. That’s my curse.

She loves me. She really, truly loves me. I’m holding her so tightly that I order my body to relax so as not to hurt her. Autumn. My Autumn.

OK.

It was because loving you from a distance was one thing, but it wouldn’t have been fair to her if I were in love with my best friend.”

Omg

“God, Autumn. You’re the ideal I’ve judged every other girl by my whole life. You’re funny and smart and weird. I never know what’s going to come out of your mouth or what you’re going to do. I love that. You. I love you.”

Oh, beloved. I take her in my arms and hold her close to me.

“Whatever our souls are made of, hers and mine are the same.”

He won’t get to be with Autumn.

Bye.

“You were the biggest, most impossible dream for him.”

im crying

“Life can be and often is fiercely cruel,”

We are all dead bodies that haven’t died yet.

I am alive. I’ve always been alive. But today I feel it.

The thought opens a new wound, because I wish Finn had known that this many people cared about him. He always blew it off when people said stuff like, “How are you the nicest person alive, Finn?” It was as if Finn didn’t realize his consistent kindness added up for people. It is his default setting. Was. It’s so hard to think about him in the past tense.

:(

People say only the good die young, but someone once told me it wasn’t true, that we only remember the good things about those who die young.

I feel so small. I’m too young for this to be happening. My best friend can’t be dead.

I cant.

For the first time, I wonder if I can do it tomorrow. Carry his coffin. Carry his body. Place it over a hole where it—he—Finn, will stay forever.

Its 10pm and im crying

Autumn sits on a stool next to his coffin, resting her cheek on its lid like it’s his shoulder. She was talking when I walked in, but she falls silent and raises her head. “I’m sorry,” I say. It feels like I’ve walked in on them naked together, but Autumn shrugs and rests her head back on his box. A few moments later, she asks, “Do you want to talk to him alone?” Her voice is still hoarse and quiet. “No. I’m here in case…” Autumn has closed her eyes as if she has forgotten I’m here. “Should I go?” “Only if you want to.” Her nonchalance chills me. “We’re just being close one last time.” She presses her cheek against the gray metal, and my stomach twists.

I…

Before people start arriving, Autumn creeps out of the room. She’s wearing jeans and a T-shirt. She looks at me as she passes, like she isn’t sure if she should say anything to me or not. “Where are you going?” I ask. “I’m letting Sylvie have the funeral,” she says over her shoulder. “It only seems fair. My dad and I are going to the art museum instead. Finny wouldn’t want Dad at his funeral anyway. I’ll go by the graveyard later and make sure he’s settled in.” And then she strolls out.

I CANT.

Before the memorial started, the funeral director explained how we would lift the casket together, but it feels like being in a play unrehearsed. We get through it though. One guy behind me stumbles, and for a second, I wonder if Finn felt the tilt, but then I have to bite my lip to keep from crying when I remember that Finn couldn’t. It’s done. He’s on my shoulder. Finn. Inside this box is Finn, was Finn, and his head is probably near my own. As we walk him to the hearse, I hear Autumn’s voice, We’re just being close one last time.

I. CANT.

They’re about to do it. There’s a mechanical hum as his coffin is lowered down. It’s not really him, yet it is him, and they’re putting him away forever. I want to beg someone to stop this, to let me keep him, please. But it’s done. Finn, my friend, is in a hole in the earth. For the rest of my life, no matter how long I live, I will always know exactly where he is, because he’s never going to move again.

im heartbroken

“Now while my lips are living, Their words must stay unsaid, And will my soul remember To speak when I am dead? Yet if my soul remembered You would not heed it, dear, For now you must not listen, And then you could not hear.”