Waiting for Autumn by Scott Blum Page A

air.
    “I believe he just saw Bambi and his little brother.” I heard the shopkeeper laugh as the door shut behind me with a muted thump.
    Once outside, I tripped on the curb and scraped my right knee through my faded blue jeans. I decided to stay seated on the curb until I could catch my breath. Returning to Yreka was bringing up some deep-seated memories I hadn’t even known I still had, and I was getting nervous about returning to the park because I wasn’t sure if I could handle what was next. I considered getting in the car and driving back to Ashland without even going near it, but I knew that if I didn’t go then, I never would. And if there was something to my feeling that the portal was only accessible on that day, I would forever regret not finding out what it was for.
    After about ten minutes—when I had recovered from my experience at the sporting-goods store enough to continue on—I picked myself up and started toward the park at the top of the hill. I was only a couple of blocks away, and my stomach fluttered when I saw the blackened granite archway that marked the entrance. I had spent many hours in this park with Cheryl, but even during all those years I had never really looked at the hand-carved lettering that adorned the imposing archway. Beneath the name of the park was the word S ISKIYOU inscribed in large, ghostlike letters that seemed to dance in place. The name of the county where Yreka resided seemed an odd choice for prominent billing, but most eerie were the letters themselves, which appeared to mirror my every gesture.
    The park itself was divided in three sections. The one closest to the archway was a walking area where several large, stately trees had been planted amid occasional benches so visitors could lounge under the ample shade. On the opposite end was a baseball diamond that was the perfect size for Little League games, and to the left was the playground that contained the swing set I’d seen in my dreams.
    I was pulled toward the swings with a gravity I couldn’t control, and within seconds I was standing near the one that had been adjacent to the portal from my dream. However, the swing set was already occupied by two young redheaded girls being pushed by a middle-aged man with short red hair and a green and purple pin-striped buttoned shirt. The girls were both wearing yellow flowered sundresses, and the youngest had two matching flesh-colored bandages on her knees.
    I could tell that I made the father nervous, and assumed that not many grown men hung around swing sets in Yreka by themselves. I tried sitting in the swing next to where the girls were playing and discovered that it was clearly designed for children less than half my size. I barely fit into the small seat, and my knees nearly scraped the sand as the chains loudly squeaked under the stress of my weight. And as soon as I started swinging, the father began to whisper to his children about leaving, while he squinted his green eyes at me with apparent disapproval. I hadn’t intended to make anyone uncomfortable, so I exited the child swing and tried to casually browse the park-bench dedications while waiting for the family to finish.
    In my boredom I approached them again and attempted to put them at ease. “Beautiful day,” I said to the father.
    “Uh-huh.” His incredulity was intense.
    “I’m waiting for my niece,” I said, hoping my white lie would help. “She loves that swing.”
    “Oh, I see.” The man smiled, and I could tell that he was much more relaxed than he had been since I’d arrived. “We’re almost done. It’s the best swing in the park, so I can see why you’re waiting for it.”
    “Yeah, it’s the only one she likes. She made me come down here and get dibs on it.” I laughed as my white lie became more intricate with every syllable.
    “We should probably get going. Come on, girls, we really have to go now.” The three of them waved goodbye as they left the park and walked up Miner