Autumn Revisited

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes as my rusted over Oldsmobile Alero sputtered pitifully to a start once the single stoplight in all of town switched to dusty, faded green. Brandon, Vermont isn’t my home now and never will be, I heard my 15 year old voice, laced with disgust and boredom announce in my mind. Nothing had changed, as far as I could see so far. Salvito’s Diner still sat in between two crumbled over brick buildings, the one Sunoco gas station was on the corner, advertising $2.49 a gallon as if the residents here had a choice between them and someone else. I guess the only good thing about this town was the gas price; back in Boston it was closer to $2.75 than $2.50. I turned the wheel into the Sunoco, my car begging for mercy and wheezing in gratitude as I took my key out of the ignition and put it out of its misery. I unscrewed the gas cap and slammed my door shut in one fluid motion, my legs carrying me inside the convenience store.

I felt my stomach jump into my throat and then resettle itself in a split second, the bells jingling above my head as the door shut behind me. There sat Brian McCutcher, Brandon High School star receiver, class of 2004. Last I saw him, he was being followed around by his legion of drooling Brandon fan girls, all wishing for a chance to have his beefy muscled arm around their shoulders as he blabbed on and on about the football team’s win against some rival team. I never followed sports, especially something as trivial as the Brandon High Steel Devils. Slowly, I walked up to the counter, setting my wallet down on the surface separating Brian and me.

“20 on 3.” I mumbled, my voice scratchy over my vocal chords, seeing as I hadn’t talked in a while. The drive from Boston to Brandon is a long one, especially when you’re alone.

“Would that be all?” Brian mumbled, taking the $20 dollar bill from me with his sweaty, calloused hands. He smashed the money into the register before his light blue eyes caught onto mine. “Do….Do I know you?”

“Brandon High, class of ’04.” I rolled my eyes, his expression still puzzled, as if this was the first time he’s ever had to use his brain since senior year trigonometry. “Faye. Faye Cameron.”

Revealing my name didn’t seem to clear up any of the cobwebs, his head now slightly tilted. I couldn’t help but think he resembled a big, overfed great dane. “Cameron…” He trailed off for a while, before finally his eyes lit up. “I remember you! I haven’t seen you around in years.”

“I can’t believe anyone would want to stay.” I answered shortly, stuffing my wallet back into my back pocket and turning on my heel. “Good day, Brian.”

“Hey, Faye?” He said, right as the bell above the door jingled. I turned to him, his cheeks now covered in a light pink tinge. “I’ll get my wife Rebecca to include you in our prayers.”

I just stared blankly as he nodded and turned back around to fumble with the cash register. Pray for me? Last time I heard that I was in…Brandon, Vermont.

My shoes squelched under the lush grass and mud combination under my shoes, my rusty Alero looking as if it could grow roots and attach itself right into the asphalt below it. Filling it up with the gas and turning back onto the road, I decided to avoid stopping anymore and seeing any more ghosts from my past. Unfortunately, Brandon could might as well been renamed ‘Ghost Town, Vermont’ with all of the history I had here. I sighed, stocking up seeing Brian McCutcher as just an unavoidable blast from the past.
My Father lived right outside of Brandon actually, but still in Middlebury County. While the only thing it meant to me now was a little bit of a longer drive outside of town, back in the day it meant having to walk 2 miles from where the bus let me off after school. I remember being 11 years old, walking on the side of the dirt road as the leaves around me began to turn red and gold, fluttering down from their tall positions on the tree branches to the ground below. The tourists called it ‘Fall Foliage Season’, and filled up all the Brandon, Vermont hotel rooms to us local’s delight. I personally called it death, since to me, the only reason the leaves fell off the trees in the first place was because of the trees decided to abandon them, to save energy and let their leaves fall to the ground in a desperate attempt to survive the deadly winter. I guess death can be really beautiful, but I have a hard time understanding how abandonment can be.

My Alero just about collapsed into a heap of scrap metal on the dirt road, but somehow made it to the driveway of the run down white farm house I grew up in. I had no neighbors, unless you wanted to count the trees. I figured they made better neighbors anyways; they kept quiet and provided me with a place to hide when I decided I really hated Brandon. With a sigh, I got out of the car and let my boots squelch under the mud and the brown leaves; the November ground cover revealing that it had yet to snow, but was well on its way, the morning frost turning the dirt into a soiled brown sludge.

“Is that you, Kitten?” I heard the familiar voice say, as I removed my boots on the porch under the awning. I knew he kept the door open; trees are also good neighbors because they keep the crime rates low. I didn’t answer, just pushed my boots up against the house and let myself in, the dingy carpet squishing under my feet.

“Daddy?” I finally called, the door shutting loudly behind me as I looked around the empty living room I grew up in. In the right corner is where the Christmas tree went in December; against the left wall next to the bay window was where we kept the photographs of Mom. Finally, I heard the soft padding of another set of feet from down the hall. I turned my head expecting to see my Dad, but someone unexpected showed themselves instead.

My Daddy was a proud man. The Camerons of Brandon, Vermont were actually one of the founding families, opening up a sugar house here well before the American Revolution. There were pictures of my Great-Great Grandfather in the halls of the library, along with the special privilege of having the Brandon High School gym named after my namesake.

So, when instead of my tall, imposing dark haired Father coming to greet me, I was greeted by yet another Ghost of my past, I couldn’t help but stare awkwardly. For one, my Daddy was definitely not a girl…a woman. And this woman was no ordinary woman, not in the slightest.

“Well, look at you Faye.” She smiled slightly, looking at me from head to toe before stopping at my eyes. I couldn’t help but feel incredibly self conscious in that moment, my hair suddenly seeming to frizz up uncontrollably and my beat up tennis shoes seeming to add about 10 times more haggardness to my appearance.

“….Julia?” I sputtered finally, letting my eyes go over her appearance as well, but she looked beautiful as always. Brown, heel-less ankle boots with dark washed jeans tucked in, a patterned fabric patching a hole in her jeans just over the knee. She absolutely made my heart race as if I was a car in the Indy 500, the way her clothes hugged her curving thighs and hips, the way she shifted in her shoes once she realized I was looking her over as well. I finally pulled my eyes up to her face, taking in her olive toned skin that seemed to keep its color in the wintertime but not get too tan in the summertime. She had deep set chocolate eyes that always reminded me of the eyes of a deer, framed by long curled eyelashes and just a hint of eyeliner along her bottom lashes. Most amazing was her hair, the color of mahogany wood that seemed to shine auburn in the sunlight.

“It’s been a while, Faye. I didn’t think you’d come back after that scholarship came your way.” I nodded, looking down weakly before meeting her gaze once again. The smile was still on her lips, this time a bit stronger. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

I just stared, unsure of really how to answer it. I shifted in my stance my weight going from my left foot to my right. I could feel my hair brush gently against my shoulder as I shifted. I was definitely in need of a haircut. “I feel like I’ve changed.” I finally said, even though it didn’t sound half as convincing as Julia’s statement.

“Faye Cameron, golden girl of Brandon Vermont for 16 years…Prom committee, Ms. Brandon for 3 years running, sophomore class president…and then you ruined it for yourself, didn’t you?”

“Faye?” I heard my father call out from wherever he was. I could feel the sweat sliding down my palms, my long sleeve ribbed v-neck now seeming way too tight and constricting.

“This is just who I am.” I replied weakly. I couldn’t help but think I sounded more like I was trying to convince myself than her.

“Right.” She rolled her eyes, the smirk upturning the corners of her lips into a full blown sneer by now. “Faye Cameron, perfect angel turned dyke. Who would have thought?” I could feel the breath force its way out of my lungs and into the pit of my stomach before lodging itself in my wind pipe as she spoke. “Everyone loved you, and you knew it. And you go and blow it, by playing your stupid gay games. You ruined everything you ever had. And then you had to go and just run away from everything, for 5 whole years you run away to some big city thinking you’ll be surrounded by those progressive liberal fascists you dreamed of so much. Well, it worked, didn’t it honey? You got that girlfriend back in Boston and that B.S in Physics hanging on Daddy’s wall. Soon you’ll get your masters, and maybe even a doctorate. Then you’ll be better than Brandon, wont you? But deep down you know you were never good enough for Brandon…some tiny town in Vermont!”

Julia stared sinisterly into my eyes, not moving her eyes. It was almost as if she wasn’t blinking. Here she was, this beautiful girl I had tried to forget for the past 5 years, haunting me again in my own home, the place she originated from in the first place. Julia wasn’t just anyone; she was the apex of my vulnerabilities and the crux of my insecurities.

She sneered again, before finally rolling her eyes one more time. She opened her mouth as if to speak again, but she turned her head. As if saved by the bell, I breathed a deep sigh of relief as Julia scoffed, this time in her own frustration. She seemed to disappear as quickly as she came into the room, a faint breeze crashing into my stone still body as she passed me. Just as Julia came in, there stood by tall, proud Father, in all his glory. His once raven colored hair was now peppered with grey and white specks, mostly along his ears. His eyes were still the color of honey though, and his body was still strong and tight even in his old age.

“I knew it was you, Kitten. I could hear that beat up old car of yours halfway down the road.” He smiled warmly, but it did nothing to thaw out the desolate chill still settled into my bones from Julia.

“Daddy.” I finally spoke, giving him a weak smile, the color still drained from my face.

“I see you cut your hair again.” He commented, stepping closer to me, his eyes examining me closely. “I miss it when it was so long, when you’d braid it and put that ribbon in.” I didn’t respond, just stepped closer to him again, the carpet squishing familiarly under my sock covered toes.

“Oh, Faye…” He sighed after a pregnant pause, his arms reaching out and grabbing my sides, pressing me into his broad chest. I could feel his rhythmic breathing, in and out. “I missed you so much honey. Home isn’t home without you.”

“I’m sorry.” I felt the words tumble out of my mouth before I could control myself and filter them. He paused for a second, before loosening his grip on me and looking me right in the eyes.

“Faye Julia Cameron, you have nothing to be sorry for.” He said, this time his voice was stern and rigid, as if I was being punished for stealing a cookie from the tray.

“I let everyone down. I let Brandon down. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…I wish I could do something to make it all better.”

“You were the best daughter to me in the entire world, Kitten. I am so proud of you and everything you have done. I love you so incredibly much.” His honey colored eyes shone in the warm light of the setting sun, tinged a slight red color from the falling leaves outside the bay window. And in that moment, I knew that I had overcome it all. I just needed some time.