Midnight Wonders

7.3.1. Autumn Leaves on the Windowsill

Autumn came. It came angrily, sending scores of leaves cascading down the silent streets. Red and orange and yellow, like the embers of a fire, collecting on his windowsill. They crunched against each other when Luc brushed them away, leaving dust behind like ashes. Sometimes they were damp from the rain or morning dew, and they left behind small, dark stains on the white windowsill.

He ought to stop brushing them away. But he couldn't help himself. It was a habit. It had served him well, once, but was now hardly more than an inconvenience.

It was cold, now. When it rained, the water beat heavy against the roof and the windows in short staccato bursts that all blended together into white noise. Luc was grateful Cora was there, and Tristan was there, for without them he surely would have forgotten his umbrella at home many times. He tried to check the weather every morning, but sometimes he opened the weather app and saw that it was going to rain and then he closed the app and then felt a crushing weight of nothingness that swept the thought out of his mind and he would walk outside without the umbrella not knowing what he was missing because the knowledge that he lacked an umbrella felt like nothing compared to the knowledge that he lacked many other things. Walking to the bus stop in the wet weather, it was hard to tell how old and worn his shoes were on the outside. They still functioned perfectly well and kept his toes dry, and the water flattened down the flaky leather outsides. No one could see the imperfections.

The bench at the bus stop was always wet when he got there. If the weather wasn't rainy, the bench was cold and already occupied by families of leaves. But the cold made it feel damp anyway. So Luc stood beside the stop to wait.

The bus splashed through the puddles in the uneven road. Luc stood farther away from the curb to keep his shoes and socks from getting soaked. The bus was always pleasantly warm when he got on it. Everything smelled stronger in the rain, and boarding the bus he was acutely aware of the scents of the metallic railings and the musty leather seats.

Sometimes Emma was there. Sometimes she wasn't.

When she was there, she talked most of the way, as she'd done before. Luc mostly sat there in silence and stared out the opposite window. But it was hard to see anything now. When the rain wasn't warping the images outside, the condensation of human heat on the bus's cold windows made it impossible to see outside. Everything was hazy and white.

He did the same thing when Emma wasn't there, too. It was worse when she wasn't there. It was better when she wasn't there.

Everything felt emptier than usual, and he felt that he ought to get his life together, but the thought itself was somehow terrifying. He felt as if he were staring at himself with some sort of voyeuristic schadenfreude.

It was easy to tell himself to stop when he sat in the bus staring out the window. It was easy to remind himself that the more he stared, he more he felt like falling apart, and he would certainly regret it later. It was easy to reach into his pocket and pull out his phone to occupy himself.

It was not easy to keep staring. But somehow it was the only thing he could do.

Sometimes he was all right. Sometimes he felt very all right and wondered why he ever felt not quite so, and then nothing happened but he didn't feel all right again. Luc wondered why it mattered now. Everything was as it had been before. Before felt so far away, a strange and nebulous thing. He hated how he could feel the time slipping through his fingers as he felt worse and worse and yet he could do nothing.

He felt terribly dramatic. He wished he were more so. It was only terrible to the point where it was all right, and he could not understand it either because everything was maddeningly senseless and tedious anyway.