A Dark Autumn (4 page)

“Yes,” she said, pointing her finger as if he’d answered correctly. “Missing out is the perfect way to put it.”
 

“Hmm.” He fell silent as if pondering the possibilities. “Maybe I should do that sometime.”

“You’ll have to let me know how you lick—liked it.” She shook her head. What a way to fumble her words.

Ricky didn’t seem to notice. “Deal.”

They continued trekking along the trail that surrounded the lake, talking about the weather, the area, the wildlife. Any bit of pointless dialogue that Michelle could whip up, she spoke it to keep the conversation from halting. Before even realizing it, they had arrived at his cabin. He thanked her for the tour, extended his hand once again. She ignored it and hugged him. Ricky tensed from the sudden display of affection, and when he finally returned the hug, it was one-handed.
 

He thanked her again, then disappeared into the trees in front of his cabin.
 

As Michelle watched him leave, she nibbled at her bottom lip. “Smooth move, Michelle.” She left, moping her way back to her own cabin.
 

She made the decision not to tell her friends about Ricky. They would want to meet him, and once they saw him, they’d act even more foolish than she had. She didn’t want to bring more awkwardness down on him. She’d caused him enough already. So, Ricky Myers would remain a secret. Maybe when they left on Monday, she would come over and invite him on another walk, maybe even dinner that night. A way to apologize for acting like a dweeb.
A ninny?
She smiled, thinking about Ricky the entire walk back.

Chapter Five

“I think we should have a drink to celebrate the reunion,” said Helen, on her way to the kitchen. Three paper bags sat on the counter, each containing bottles of various alcohols and flavors. They clinked and rattled as she stuck her hand in up to the elbow.
 

Michelle swallowed the last bite of her sandwich. “Helen, it’s barely lunch time.”
 

“What better time to start than now?”

Michelle glanced at Lucy and Amanda for assistance. Amanda only shrugged, and Lucy was too distracted by her own sandwich to even notice the conversation. “Fine. What are you making?”

“Black Widows.”

Michelle’s eyes rounded. “Whoa, so early? That’s the kind of drink we usually finish the night with, not start a day with.”

“It’s a special occasion.”

“Come on, Helen. Don’t you want to hang out first and catch up?”

“Absolutely, but being intoxicated will make it that much more fun.”

“We’ll hardly be able to stand up after a couple of those.”

“Then we’ll
sit
.”

Michelle rolled her eyes, giving up the fight.

Amanda chimed in. “I could use a Black Widow. No one can make them like you Helen.”

Smiling, Helen held out her arms. “Thank you very much.”

Michelle added. “I still think we should start off with something lighter.”

“You can make whatever you want, Michelle. We have tons of drinks here, but
I’m
making Black Widows.” She removed a bottle of Crystal Skull vodka and set it on the counter. “We have the whole weekend ahead of us to relax. But I want to party
tonight
. So, let’s get the partying out of our system today, then we can be bums the rest of the time. How does that sound?”

No one disputed Helen’s plan.
 

Michelle threw away her paper plate, walked back to the chair in the living room and sat. She sighed. Leaning her head back against the cushion, she was beginning to dread the day that lay before them. Sure, she could decline the drinks, but then she would be the only sober person in a group of inebriated bitches, and that would not be fun at all.
 

By the time she had returned from her embarrassing walk with Ricky, she’d discovered Lucy’s car parked behind hers. They’d let themselves in and Lucy had already found the food and was preparing lunch. Hoagies. Long hugs filled the room in a cycle as each woman hugged the other, complimented them on their appearance, and declared how much they’d missed each other. As they ate, they’d made small talk about the trip up here, and other meaningless subjects to keep silence from making the meal uncomfortable. She’d almost slipped up twice and told them about Ricky, but managed to catch herself.

Ice clamoring as it struck glass startled Michelle out of her thoughts. She looked over her shoulder and saw Helen mixing the first drink. Helen really looked good. The years had been kind to her, plus she could tell by the way her arms flexed that she worked out, maybe even obsessively so. Her body reminded Michelle of Linda Hamilton in T2, only with bigger boobs. Michelle had managed to stay in great shape as well, but she was nowhere near as cut as Helen.

Lucy sighed as she finished off her sandwich. “That was good.”
 

Amanda laughed. “Not as good as a Black Widow.”

“Damn right,” agreed Helen. “And, to be a sweetheart, I’m going to give you the first one, Lucy, to wash down that sandwich.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Michelle hoped Lucy wouldn’t turn into a self-pity drunk like she used to, and say degrading things about herself. She could only try and convince her otherwise so many times before she got tired of trying. So, usually when the others quit attempting to cheer her up, Lucy would sob until finally passing out.
 

Helen brought the drink over to Lucy, swapping it for the empty plate. Then she returned to the kitchen to begin making another. Michelle studied the glass as Lucy sipped from it. Just as she remembered, the liquid was nearly black in color and what she remembered being red cherry juice as well giving it a red center just like the hourglass on a black widow spider. It wasn’t a popular drink, but Helen made them better than anyone.
 

When the drinks had been given out, Helen joined the girls in the living room. She stood by the fireplace, and held her glass high. Michelle, Lucy and Amanda did the same.
 

“A toast,” Helen began. “To old friends and new beginnings.”

Michelle smiled. “To old friends.”

Amanda finished. “To new beginnings.”

They clanged their glasses together and chugged.

Chapter Six

Ricky sat on the couch, his feet tucked under his hip, with what he’d written of the new book before him, skimming through it and making changes with a red ink pen. What he’d already edited lay printed side down on the coffee table beside his empty plate. He’d eaten another ham sandwich for dinner, and had detested it. He’d been tempted to ride into town and get something at the diner, but had gotten too cozy to make the drive.
 

He promised himself he’d go into town tomorrow and get some groceries, and then have a meal at the diner. He’d earned it.
 

The lady he’d met on his walk, Michelle, had crossed his mind more than once this evening. She was odd, but also sweet and funny. His heart broke every time he thought back to their conversation. She was obviously carrying a lot of emotional baggage, whether she realized it or not. He didn’t know her well enough to make assumptions, but he could read people, and he read a lot of sadness inside her.
 

Ricky finished the page he was working on and added it to the pile. Then he set what was left beside him and stretched. His muscles pulled and tingled. Looking through the bay door, he saw the sun was sinking behind the trees. The sky was orange as a jack-o-lantern, flickering yellow and purple into a red river flooding the clouds. It was beautiful. He stood. The leg he’d been putting his weight on was numb, and as he walked to the door it began to feel as if it was pumping rice instead of blood.

He opened the doors, stepping outside. He wasn’t wearing shoes, and the damp wood soaked through his socks. He hated that soggy feeling, so he removed them, and tossed them back inside. Then he shut the doors. It was chilly outside without his sweater. In only a T-shirt and jeans, he shivered, but it wasn’t cold enough to send him back inside. He wanted to watch the sun set. He sat in the chair where he’d eaten lunch, leaned back and watched the sun make its descent behind the undulating throng of trees that continued to rise as they climbed the mountain.

He figured it was going to be a cold night, and he should probably go to the woodshed and get some wood. There was a fireplace in the living room that he planned on putting to good use tonight. It was depressing knowing he’d be alone on such a romantic evening, but thoughts of Ted would keep him satisfied. Maybe he would call him later, just to check in. He’d promised to give Ted some freedom while he was gone, and though Ted acted as if he didn’t want it, Ricky could tell he truly did. He didn’t want to make the man he loved feel as if he was being smothered. Perhaps he wouldn’t call after all…or maybe he would. It was too early to tell.
 

As he watched the sky go from orange to purple in a matter of moments, he wondered how he could ever accurately describe it in a book. He doubted he had the talent to pen what he was seeing.
 

Laura probably could
.
 

The orange flush of the sun was swallowed by the approaching lavender of night?
Eh, it was okay, but not great.
Sounds like something a homosexual would write.
He laughed aloud. “Guess that’s why I came up with it.” He shook his head, deciding to shut his thoughts down and enjoy the beauty in front of him.
 

Chapter Seven

Michelle couldn’t feel anything from the hips down. She sat on the couch, her legs stretched across Amanda who was massaging her calves, and stared at the ceiling as it swirled this way and that. They’d taken a break from Black Widows and had begun drinking Helen Sours until it felt as if their livers were going to explode. So they decided to let the alcohol rest and drink some water, hopefully regaining enough electrolytes to drink more booze throughout the night.
 

“You have such soft skin,” said Amanda. She seemed genuinely amazed.
 

“Thank you.”

“What’s your secret?”

“Lotion. A lot of fucking lotion.” But as she spoke the word, it sounded more like:
Loshin.

“Uh-oh,” said Helen, from the chair across the room. She sat with her ass in the cushion, but turned sideways, with both legs draping over the arm. Her legs glimmered. “Amanda’s starting to get touchy-feely on you Michelle. Better keep an eye on her hands.”

The warning was enough for Michelle to attempt sitting up. She was drunk, but not so drunk that she wanted to be fondled by her friend. Not yet. She pulled her legs away from Amanda, and sat up straight. It seemed awfully bright in the room. She squinted against the light.
 

Lucy was in the chair across from Helen, chewing on what ice remained in her glass. She’d been unusually quiet during their celebration. Maybe instead of being vocal about her self-pity she was keeping it to herself this time.
 

Michelle noticed that the day had nearly passed while they’d partied. She couldn’t see the countryside through the windows, just the reflection of the living room in the darkened glass.
 

“Wow,” she said. “It’s night.”

Helen looked at the windows. “Damn, it is.”
 

Lucy sat up, her eyes wide, the corner of her mouth raised in a half-smile, half-smirk. “You know what we should do?”

No one said anything.

Lucy continued as if they had. “We should go to the campsite…see if we can find any hot campers.”
 

Helen’s eyes twinkled. “Great idea, Lucy.”

Amanda groaned. “I don’t think I can walk.”

“Sure you can,” said Helen. “Just stand up and let your feet do the work for you.”

It was Michelle’s turn. “Are you crazy? The four of us, drunk off our asses, and trying to walk through the dark woods? One of us, if not all of us, will wind up hurt or lost.”

“Nah,” said Helen. “Anyway, I’m getting bored. A change of scenery is just what we need.” She stood. Her skin was glossy with sweat. Other than her puffy eyes, no one would have ever guessed Helen was smashed. She moved as if she’d only just started drinking. “I’ll get the booze and cups.”

Amanda sat up. “We’re going to need flashlights.”

“Michelle where are the flashlights?” asked Helen.

“In the pantry. I’ll get them.”

Amanda added another idea. “We should start a campfire…”

That idea even sounded good to Michelle. “I’ll get matches. They’re in the pantry too.”

As Michelle made her way through the kitchen, Helen had already loaded more vodka and mixes into a shopping bag with what remained of the plastic cups.
 

Michelle turned a corner, approaching the pantry door. She opened it. It was a walk-in space, with the light being a single bulb dangling from the ceiling in the middle of the room. It was turned off, so all she could see were colorful blotches dancing around the darkness. Fumbling her way through the room, her head knocked against something skinny and cold.
The chain.
She found it and tugged it down. Dim, yellowish light expelled through the cramped room. Shelves of canned and boxed foods surrounded her. The supply shelf was to her right. There she found two flashlights, and a box of long-stem matches. She took them, killed the light and headed back for the kitchen.