Pritesh and Autumn met in their college writing class when Pritesh asked her about her piece. They ended up talking for hours outside the English building. Neither of them admitted it, but the attraction was instant. Autumn wrote poetry and hoped to become a teacher. Pritesh majored in computer science, but his passion was writing music. Autumn saw his talent the first time he performed on open mic. His voice was like honey and he held the audience captivated with his showmanship. He would always say that she was the one who encouraged him to follow his passion.
Years later, when he signed the contract for the record label shortly after their marriage, Autumn knew that her career would have to take second place. She wouldn’t be able to be a teacher while they were traveling around the country touring, but she didn’t mind. She would still be able to work on her poetry.
Those days were good. They would make love like they were the only two people in the world and would show affection often. They would have long conversations like the ones outside the English building. She was the apple of his eye. They were best friends.
One day, she noticed Pritesh looking void after his meeting with the executive producer. She asked him what was wrong, but he unconvincingly told her that everything was alright. For the first time, Autumn felt him becoming distant. She wanted to retrieve him, to pull him closer to her and understand the look in his eyes. But she didn’t.
Later, whenever Pritesh would stay the night to have a meeting with the executive producer, she noticed strange charges to their account. She felt sick, but she didn’t say anything. If he was being unfaithful, she would be better. She hoped that his indiscretion would go away. But despite her being more affectionate, more helpful around the house, and more spontaneous with him, the charges would continue.
Her poems began to have a more desolate, desperate tone to them, unlike the hopeful and whimsical ones she had published earlier. Her editor didn’t like the change, but what could be done? Her former best friend had become like a stranger to her. They rarely showed affection anymore, and when they did it was stilted.
He seemed miserable to her. He had lost the joyful look in his eyes and always looked sullen. His career was being affected by his change in mood as well. He had lost some of the effortless emotion and showmanship he put into his performance and he was struggling to write songs. He could no longer write about love as he once did.
One day he reached for her and hugged her tightly. They held each other for a while without words. She wanted to go back to the days when they loved each other as naturally as they breathed, but how was that possible? When they finally let go, neither of them said a thing. Her throat hurt as she held tears back.
On the day that the press finally caught him cheating, she felt numb. It had been different girls. Call girls. He had traded his fidelity for meaningless sex, and now it was all over the papers.
When he came home, they looked at each other in silence. All the things she had been holding in, heartbreak, rage, betrayal, threatened to come out and Autumn didn’t want them to. She didn’t want to break in front of this man who clearly didn’t care for her, even though it seemed like he once had.
He spoke first. “You know.”
“How could you?” she said, the words breaking in her throat.
“I don’t know why I did it. I’m sorry.” He paused for a while. “But you knew.”
“What?”
“You knew before now and you didn’t say anything. Why didn’t you say anything?”
She couldn’t believe his audacity. “Why are you trying to put this on me?”
“Because you didn’t fight for me! You didn’t fight for our marriage!”
“You’re the one who put our marriage in jeopardy in the first place! You’re really fucking bold fucking a bunch of whores and then talking to me about what I need to do for our marriage!”
“At least I still love you! Those girls meant nothing to me, Autumn, nothing!”
“Then why did you do it then? Why have sex with them?”
“I-” his voice cracked and he started to cry. “I just needed control.”
“Control?” Autumn was bewildered. “Why? What is it that you possibly don’t have control over?”
“The meetings…you don’t understand…”
“Fuck off.” She packed her things and left.
Later that night, she decided she would divorce Pritesh. After everything he put her through, she didn’t still love him. The Pritesh that had her heart was the Pritesh of old, before he had made those choices. Staying with him had been like rehashing an old memory. It would never be the same, and it's better to let go.
She learned how to live with herself, and her poems gained a wiser, more confident tone that her editor applauded. She became a second grade teacher and found joy in her job. She met a fourth grade teacher named Steven and fell for him slowly, not all at once as she had done with Pritesh. She preferred it that way. He was a down to earth man, kind and understanding. He had an eight year old daughter named Grace, and by the time she and Steven were married, Autumn loved her like her own child.
One day, Autumn was posting a picture of her and Grace baking cookies when she came across a post with Pritesh’s picture on it. The caption said: Rest in peace to the beloved singer and songwriter Pritesh Kapoor, who was found dead this morning in his apartment. Autumn’s stomach dropped. She found out the inspectors ruled it a suicide. She was shocked. The last time she saw him two years ago, she would not have imagined him being in such a dark place. What happened to him, she wondered.
A year later, Autumn read an article about Pritesh’s executive producer that made her blood run cold: Jonathan Larsman has been arrested for the sexual abuse of many of his clients. The majority of the abuse happened during meetings. Further investigation is being conducted.
© katiewrites