August Leaves by Victoria Queliz

Annabelle set down the coffee she ordered for herself and August on the table and plopped down into her chair opposite him. August picked up his steaming cup of coffee and gingerly took a sip, feeling the warmth of it pass his lips. Annabelle gulped down the majority of her coffee, and with one full body shake, her nervousness seemed to melt away. She gently settled her hand on top of August’s, whose hand was resting on the table. She knew he loved that, she knew most of what he loved, and most importantly what he hated.

“I’ve missed you August,” Annabelle said with such sincerity that she didn’t have to say anything else. She did miss him, she missed the way they walked through the park, the way he held her hand, his strong frame, always well dressed for his desk job. It baffled her, how could someone as uncontainable as August could be trapped behind a desk, she could tell he detested the job. In contrast, Annabelle was small in stature and would be content to be behind a desk, as long as she could draw. Opposites do attract.

August looked up at Annabelle, and they locked eyes. The whole world melted away; they were the only two in this dreary coffee shop, the block, all of mid-Autumn Red Deer, the whole of Canada, the entire world. August blinked, his long lashes casting winds in Annabelle’s direction, and she smiled softly, her pink full lips sending radiation across the mile long table toward August.

“I’ve missed you too, Annabelle.” He paused right before saying her name, and he said it with such sweetness she thought she might turn into vapor and float away into the afternoon sky.

“How have you been, August?” She inquired, looking straight at him, almost unblinking. She wanted to know, to know what he’s been doing these couple months apart.

“I’ve missed you,” he said, simply, as if that was all he could possibly do. He gazed at her hopeful amber eyes for what seemed like years, when it was in fact only a couple of seconds.

She was tied to August; his deep, knowing emerald eyes, same shade as his tie, gazing longingly into her soul through her big amber eyes, his full lips, pink like her cheeks, and his tan graceful fingers, which were now on top of Annabelle's. Meeting August again sent a warm rush through her spine that even the bone-cold weather of winter couldn’t take away. As Annabelle observed August’s strong jawline, she knew, for now, he was gazing at her, thinking only of her, and she enjoyed the power of it all at this moment, even if it was only ephemeral. The smell of evergreen tree leaves, like being lost in the woods, radiated from his body, and she loved it.

He broke the moment, glancing out of the window of the coffee shop, leaves rustled by in the late afternoon sun, a sign winter was beginning to encompass Red Deer. August wished to be like those leaves, free to roam, be taken anywhere the wind pleased. August contemplated the past often, thinking of all that’s gone wrong in his life. Annabelle’s pale porcelain skin was like the white of the moon that taunted him in the night of his lonely childhood, the amber of her eyes like the teeth of the mother that never loved him, the fast-paced way Annabelle lived, talked and painted, like the way August rolled along the road of life, too fast.

His eyes turned hard focusing on the winds blowing the leaves away. Annabelle noticed this. “August look at me,” she said simply. She’ll lose him. She moved her index finger in circular motions in the palm of Augusts hand, reminding him that she was in fact still there, with him. He turned to her abruptly. “August?” she uttered, scared of the response.

“What?” he said harshly, forgetting it was only his Annabelle. His expression changed into one of not-so-hidden rage, it was the thing deep in August, the anger. He was looking at her, no, glaring at her. He wanted to leave, to be away from people. He didn’t want them to look at Annabelle, she was only his.

“Let’s go August, to my apartment.” Annabelle began collecting her belongings, for she knew she needed to calm him, putting one arm through the sleeve of her jacket and then the other one. August was glaring at her, like she did something wrong. “What did I do?” she thought to herself. She hurriedly shoved her mittens, same color as her bright nose, on. August had never taken his jacket off, did he expect to want to leave as soon as possible? They left the empty brown coffee cups on the table, a sign they were there, together. They walked, slowly out onto the street, then faster until they were nearly running. August had Annabelle by the arm. It hurt, but she wouldn’t admit it. She stayed quiet, enduring the pain.

As August pulls Annabelle along, he suddenly turns into an alley. His hulking body was pushed against her frail frame, but she couldn’t let him go any further, not here at least. She was struggling under his weight, trying to get out in the open “Not here! Let’s go to my apartment so we can talk, okay baby?” she said in a rushed whisper, trying to calm him. He wanted her here, now. He’s waited, and now he wanted to be with her.

There was desperation in his eyes, Annabelle could see this. She saw the pain of his past, the world he came from. The street was silent except for far-off footsteps and the gentle rustle of the leaves on the ground being blown away, some creating tiny cyclones. The leaves, fragile and dry, could have represented anything to Annabelle, but she saw them as her love for August.

August kissed her then. His lips were still warm from the coffee, and Annabelle thought he tasted delicious. It was rushed at first, then more slow and deliberate, a kiss that was meant to feel every inch of Annabelle; her cheeks, turning bright pink with warmth, her shoulders which relaxing as she joined the kiss, her fingertips radiating warmth as the sun does, her small waist, a place for August to rest his gentle hands.

“I’ve missed you Annabelle.” he said between kisses.

“I’ve missed you August, but lets go to my apartment.” she wanted to get out of there, to be in a warm place with August, to make that place even warmer with their heat, colliding in a flurry of emotion.

“I have something for you, my Bella.” August said, flagrantly ignoring her latest comment, a bad choice on his part.

Just then, August backed her up further into the alley, against a far wall. He pinned her there, kissed her lips again and placed his hand behind her head so Annabelle wouldn’t bang her head on the wall. This simple gesture of care made Annabelle forget about the monster possibly lurking in him. He knew she loved that, and the kiss continued. At this point, they were the only ones in the world, blissfully unaware of the gentle padding of steps coming in their direction. Their souls were interlocked by their lips, and it would have ripped them apart to have relinquished that. Augusts roughness faded away, and Annabelle felt the warmth of his body against her.

August pulled away from Annabelle’s lips, and gently stroked her cheek while looking into her deep amber eyes dreamily. “Aug-” He kissed her lips, cutting her off as she began to speak again. Their lips moved in time with each other. He moved his hands down to her lower back, and Annabelle gave in, moving her hands up his back in his shirt, feeling his warmth. Suddenly, it was too hot, their jacket weighed their souls down.

August pushed off Annabelle’s open jacket, and Annabelle in turn took off his pea-coat. Under, he was wearing a suit and tie. She loved the way he dressed, and she loved the way he looked undressed. She started to undo his shirt buttons with her small white fingers, forgetting where they were, ignoring the gentle footsteps that were approaching.

Her hand wandered down towards August’s thigh. In his pants pocket, there was a small box. What was it? She had to stop kissing him, she had to find out. “August what do you have to give me?” she said when she caught her breath. Right as August began to speak, a man appeared in the alley way. August saw his shadow, and ducked down to the ground, dragging down Annabelle.

“Is someone there?” The voice inquired, a little shaky, like a cop on his first day. “Who is there!” The voice was coming closer, Annabelle was paralyzed with fear, August looked down at her reassuringly, “It’s okay, stay quiet,” he said, fiddling with his shirt buttons. She tried to stay quiet, but her breathing was heavy. The voice was coming closer, the clicking of a gun, a hurried “I love you”, footsteps getting closer.

The moment Annabelle awoke, she felt the stiffness in her body from sleeping in the uncomfortable chair next to August’s hospital bed. His clothes, soaked in blood, were stripped and cut off him so get the his wound, so he was now wearing a hospital gown. The IV’s were many, like snakes going into his arms. Annabelle traced the the stitch near August’s eye with her finger. “August?” she whispered.

She hadn’t given up on him. As she kissed his forehead, she felt his eyelashes begin to move against her skin, she sat back down and took his big hands into hers. “August?” she said, more hopefully, tears starting to swell in her eyes. He was half awake, he had been knocked out for over a day. Now, as he looked around the room, his deep-emerald eyes stopped on her, confused.

“Am I in the hospital?” he said, his voice groggy, pulling his hand away. “Nurse, what happened?”

The nurse had warned Annabelle, he might have amnesia. The officer got one hit to his head, but it was enough to make him forget about his love.

“August, it’s Annabelle,” she said, tears starting to stream down her porcelain face. She wanted, no, needed him to remember. He was all she had.

“You have very nice eyes, Annabelle,” he said, wiping her tears. August settled head back on the pillow and closed his eyes. She couldn’t handle the loss. August had been her rock, her protector. Now what did she have?

Tears streaming down her face, a nurse caught her stumbling down the hospital hall. “Miss Lovejoy?” the nurse inquired. “Yes?” Annabelle croaked, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. She let her hand linger where August had touched her, and just then, Annabelle remembered the gift. She was frantic. “Nurse, in his pants, a box, August!” she was a mess.

“Miss, what’s wrong? Is this what you’re looking for?” The nurse was trying to hold stop, she held her by the shoulders. “Shh, honey I found this in his pocket, is it yours?” The nurse held out a little velvet box.

Annabelle muttered a yes, took the box and opened it, inside was a marvelous diamond ring. Breathless, she held the precious box in her hand. The nurse patted her shoulder, said something about visiting hours, and lead Annabelle out of the hospital.

Outside, fresh snow covered the ground, no leaves blowing around. “August loves the snow.” Annabelle said to herself. She took a big whiff of it, crisp cold collecting in her lungs. She bent down, collected some snow with her bare hands, lightly covered the little velvet box with it and held it. The cold numbing her hands, numbing her pain.