Fall from Hope

Colin was staring at his drink, a weary look on his face. Here he was, sitting across from the girl of his dreams in a lovely coffee shop, and all he could think about was how much he hated fall.

The Busy Bean was cozy and lively, which contrasted with the gloomy atmosphere outside. The wind was blowing, and the leaves were swirling in the wind. Dozens of shivering people had found refuge in the warmth of the coffee shop. On one side of the room, wooden tables and a long upholstered bench crammed with fall-colored cushions lined the wall. Long light fixtures hung from the ceiling. Pumpkin and leaves decorations had been arranged with great care on each table. On the other side of the room, three beaming bartenders were serving drinks to a crowd of eager customers. The blackboard behind the counter was covered with drawings and inspirational quotes.

Outside, a large sign was dangling in the wind. It read: Fall in love with our new line of autumnal drinks! Don’t miss this opportunity! Give it a try!

And that is precisely what he had done. He had run home after class, put on grey pants and a white collared shirt. With his nerves racing, he had met Melissa at the coffee shop on what he hoped could be regarded as a date. They had waited in some semblance of a line, squeezed between a group of fledgling teenage boys and a passionate couple, and had eventually pushed their way to the counter. With a tremendous effort not to show his uneasiness to Melissa, Colin had looked over the drinks menu: Will you settle for the Delicate Dark Chocolate Surprise Blend, the Savory Fall Chai Latte, or will you dare to try the Adventurous Pumpkin Spice Latte, the Intrepid Apple Butter, or the Spooky Dark Chocolate Pumpkin Mocha?

He had settled for the Dark Chocolate Surprise Blend with a forlorn hope that it wouldn’t be too “autumnal.” And please, no cinnamon!

That is how he ended up sitting across from Melissa with a brownish, gruesome, repugnant mixture resting before him. Worse still, a cinnamon stick had been plunged into the beverage, and released a strong smell that made him feel sick. Drops of Delicate Dark Chocolate Surprise Blend were running down the stick. Colin found himself staring at it, not quite daring to touch it as if scared it might come to life and attack him.

Melissa said something about a contest that was to be held the following week, but Colin was barely listening. The cinnamon stick made him feel sick and wobbly. His head was spinning, his thoughts were getting confused, and he was surprised to realize that he was on the brink of tears. The stick was staring back at him, mocking him. Why had he even agreed to this? 

But, of course, Colin knew the answer… He hadn’t wanted to disappoint Melissa. The fall season was her favorite time of year. The vitality in her eyes, the excitement in her voice, and above all, the sense of freedom she oozed, that’s what had convinced him. That and the fact that he liked her... a lot. But, for the time being, all thoughts of Melissa were forgotten. His mind swirled with memories of the day his life had stopped.

***

Following Mr. Bowman’s disappearance in October 2017, Linette Bowman insisted that life should keep running its course. But she was not the same anymore. She cleaned the house more than was necessary, took out the trash with a little too much enthusiasm, and was overly friendly to neighbors. But what annoyed Colin the most was how his mother insisted on spending quality time with him. It was her way of coping with the disappearance, he guessed, but he was angry at her endeavor not to show her pain. One day, he had caught a glimpse of her, hunched over her bed, crying. She hadn’t seen him and was all smiles at dinner.

Colin never lost hope that his father would be found, although he had read that chances of finding a missing person alive got slimmer after the first 72 hours. Hope springs eternal.

However, weeks went by without the slightest hint of where Mr. Bowman might be. The search started to dwindle, and with it, the hope of ever finding him alive. The dedication and fervor the search party had first shown had withered, and people went back to their lives. But Colin never lost that unwavering belief that his father would come back home. In fact, he was confident that, one day, he would go down the stairs and his Dad would be there, sitting on the couch with a broad smile on his face.

In November, his mother was determined to celebrate Thanksgiving. She made an extravagant dinner and dressed up for the occasion. Colin couldn’t stare to look at all the meaningless, lifeless, stupid decorations she had arranged all over the house, and his anger built up. The week before, he had gone back to school and got used to the pitiful looks he got whenever he walked into a room or crossed a street. His father’s disappearance became a taboo subject. And life went on...

He was sitting on the sofa of their elegant, lavishly decorated living room drinking hot chocolate and sucking on a cinnamon stick when there was a knock at the door. His mother hurried to answer it. A chill ran down Colin’s spine, and goosebumps rose all over his body as the man started talking. He introduced himself as Officer Russell Shelton and solemnly asked if he could come in. They had found his Dad’s corpse on a riverbank hundreds of miles away from their town. His throat had been slit. They hadn’t figured out what had happened and never would...

A sober funeral was held, tears were shed, and that was the end of it... An immense void filled Colin’s heart. He never had a chance to say goodbye or to see his father one last time. He would never be able to tell him how much he loved him and had valued their…

‘Are you even listening?’ Melissa asked abruptly. 

‘I’m sorry, what?’ He had completely forgotten where he was.

‘Are you okay, Colin? You look very pale.’

‘Yeah. I’m fine. I… I think I’m gonna go now,’ he stuttered. Melissa gawked, too surprised to speak. He got up from his chair swiftly, sparing one last glance at the cinnamon stick, and started toward the door. Outside, heavy rain was pelting down. The sign was swaying alarmingly.