Page 77 of Autumn on My Mind

He sighs, but I can picture his lopsided smile as he says, “I guess I’ll allow it. If you’re abandoning me, though, you’d better work extra hard.”

“I am working hard,” I say, glancing down at the notebook and flash cards in my lap. “I came early to class to study. It’s me and two other people in this entire room.”

“Is the guy in the front row there already?”

I know exactly who he’s talking about. “Yep.” I lower my voice. “Glasses? Snacks on celery from a baggie? He was here when I came.”

“I’ve wondered what time he shows up.”

“Are you allowed to tell me his grade?”

“No,” Dominic says with amusement, “but I can tell you that you should do whatever he’s doing.”

“Eat celery from a bag?”

“Study your butt off. Sallow should be passing out the midterm study guides today.”

“I’ll memorize everything.”

“And?”

“And I’ll come to the TA sessions you guys hold,” I say. “Happy?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think,” he points out. “It’s your midterm, your financial aid.”

With this sentiment playing in my mind, I set up a studying schedule for myself. I go to the TA sessions hosted by Jeffrey Gulliver, because I’m not sure I would focus as well if I went to Dom’s. I take on half the batches of creative brief work I normally do, and I spend the extra time holed up with my notes and the midterm study guide.

Dominic doesn’t even question my late night calls anymore. He just asks what I need help with—or tells me I should be in bed.

“I could be calling because I miss you,” I say one night at ten-forty-five while I stare blearily down at the flash cards I have arranged all over the living room floor. The midterm is tomorrow, and part of me wishes I could take it right this very second, just to get it over with.

“Go to sleep, Berkeley,” Dominic says. “You need to be rested.”

I take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. “I know this stuff, right?”

“You do,” Dom says, and I can picture him nodding. “I know you do. I’ve quizzed you myself. Now go to bed.”

“I have to get an A on this test,” I mutter. “I need my GPA to stay up. And Autumn Ridge—I want to go to Autumn Ridge with you.”

“Go to bed, Reese,” he says, softer now. “Everything will be fine.”

When I don’t answer, he sighs. “Come on. Go to bed. Put on your pumpkin pajamas and crawl into bed.”

I slump backward against the couch and then stand up. “I’m going,” I say. “I’m going.”

“Sweet dreams.”

They are sweet, because I dream about him.

I take the midterm on Wednesday. When I get home, I look up how long it takes to grade a Scantron.

Not long. That’s the answer. And I will pace that entire period of time.

I pace most of Thursday. I pace most of Friday.

Because I’ve been working less in order to give myself more study time, I decline my roommates’ invitation to go to an early dinner with them on Friday evening. I’m not sure I’d enjoy myself anyway. My temporary greatest fear is that the grades won’t be entered until next week, and I will live in a liminal hell all weekend.

What if I don’t get my grade in time to go to Autumn Ridge? We could go next weekend, I guess, but the pumpkin patch will be closed. It wouldn’t be the same.