Chapter Nineteen
Excerpt from Autumn’s Fall
‘Thanksgiving Threats’
“Are you coming to dinner?” Autumn’s mother yelled as she banged on the locked door.
“Leave me alone!” Autumn shouted back.
The shouting was loud enough for everyone seated around the table for Thanksgiving dinner to hear. Amber was home from her senior year in college, royally dressed in Boston College apparel. While everybody wanted Grandma to come to dinner, she was just too weak. Instead, they all spent the morning at her house. A house that was mostly clean and tidy, which amazed everyone, since cleaning her grandma’s house was the only task that Autumn did without complaint and with some competence, although it still wasn’t clean enough for August’s mom. Instead of visiting, August did tasks like gathering up recycling and sorting mail. Autumn wanted to help him, but her mom made her clean the bathroom.
“Hurry up. The dinner is getting cold and the Lions kick off in an hour,” August’s dad yelled. His dad yelled a lot, although lately he was yelling less at Autumn. You can’t scream at someone if you don’t see them. Dad’s solution to the Autumn problem seemed to be abandoning her before she did the same to the rest of the family. His silence was deafening.
“Let me talk to her,” August shouted, then headed upstairs.
“Why bother?” Amber asked, then shook her head, yet not a single hair fell out of place, it would seem. “Honestly, Daddy, I don’t know why you and Mom put up with her.”
“She’s our daughter,” August’s dad answered, then finished another beer.
“Then maybe she should act like one,” Amber said. “Or at least like a human being.”
August rose from the table so he could talk to one sister and avoid talking to another.
* * * *
“Autumn, open the door,” August begged. He didn’t pound. He let his words speak, which was odd since he’d not spoken much to Autumn since Halloween, despite her attempts. August—grief-stricken over the loss of Mr. Innocent—felt loneliness drag on him like leg chains.
“Go away,” Autumn replied.
“No, you need to talk with me,” August said. “I’m ready to talk to you.”
A moment passed. Downstairs, August heard Amber talking to, not with, their parents about her grand plans after she graduated from college in the spring.
The door clicked, and August’s heart dropped. That clicking sound of the lock, his keyboard, his camera, his phone, his TV remote, his everything, sent a shiver down his spine. He couldn’t shake the memory of the clicking sound of the furnace and his dog rushing to him.
“What do you want?” Autumn asked as she opened the door just an inch.
“Let me in,” August said.
“No,” she said.
“Please come downstairs. It’s Thanksgiving,” August pleaded.
“What do I have to be thankful for? Answer me that,” Autumn said. “I’m a failure at everything I do. Amber is perfect, and all I do is fail. School. Being famous. Everything.”
“Your family is here,” August said.
“They’re your family, August, not mine,” she said as she cracked the door another inch.
August stepped closer, leaning in toward the void. “Come on, please, Autumn? It will be Amber’s last Thanksgiving at home, maybe for a while. You know that, right?”
Autumn said nothing because she knew nothing about Amber’s plans. Whenever her parents talked about Amber, Autumn turned up the volume or left the room. This time, though, she heard. And she said, “In that case, let’s break out the Cristal and celebrate!”
“Autumn, please,” August begged.
“Listen, big brother, about your dog,” she started.
“Mr. Innocent, say his name,” he snapped.
“About Mr. Innocent… Like I told you, I’m so sorry, really. I know you hear me say that ‘I’m sorry’ crap all the time to the folks, but believe me, I mean it this time. I am so, so sorry.”
August tried to remember back to a time when Autumn’s mouth moving didn’t equal a lie, but his memory was not that good. “I forgave you,” he said. You forgave family. It was a given.
“Dwayne’s toast,” Autumn said, opening the door a little more.
“Why did he poison my dog?” August pleaded, but Autumn didn’t answer.
Autumn finally said, “I told him I never wanted to see him again. I did that for you, too.”
“Thanks.” August wondered why that should matter, because he could tell all along that Dwayne, like Andy, like Austin, like all of the men before Dwayne… They didn’t mean anything to her. August sensed that even with these boyfriends, Autumn felt as lonely as he did all the time.
“Let me put on some nice clothes, and I’ll be down in a while,” Autumn said softly.
August stepped closer. “You sure have a lot of nice new clothes, lots of designer stuff.”
Autumn laughed, then said, “Well, Dwayne was pretty good about buying me stuff.”
“Dwayne was a punk, a loser, a nothing,” August snapped.
“Whatever,” she said, leaving the door unguarded. August pushed his way inside.
“Hey, big brother, what are you—”
“I found the credit card past due bills today at Grandma’s,” August said in a whisper.
“What do you mean?”
“One of Grandma’s credit cards had charges for Victoria’s Secret,” August said. “I don’t think a sixty-five-year-old woman with breast cancer shops there, do you?”
Autumn moved back, leaned against one of her full-size mirrors, but said nothing.
“Autumn, how could you do this to Grandma?” August asked.
“What are you going to do?” Autumn asked instead of answering his question.
“I don’t know,” he said. He wanted to add, I’m fourteen years old and I don’t know what to do about anything, let alone something this wrong.
“Don’t tell them. They’ll kill me,” she said.
“I thought you said they would never kill you or abandon you,” he reminded her.
“This… This would be worse than either of those things.”
“How much? How many?”
“About five large,” she replied, but August looked confused. “Five thousand dollars.”
“You bought five thousand dollars worth of clothes.” August closed the door behind them. The gesture implied the intent—this was going to be their secret.
“I don’t want to talk about it and you’re not to mention it either. You hear me?”
“Grandma doesn’t have that kind of money,” August said, almost back to tears.
“I know.”
“What were you thinking?”
“I wasn’t,” Autumn said. “So, what are you going to do?”
“Promise you’ll stop,” August said, and Autumn nodded. “If you do it again, I’ll tell.”
She dumped the contents of her purse—money, mirrors, makeup, cigarettes, lighters, condoms and gum—onto her desk. She took red-handled scissors from her desk and held them against the credit card. August guessed that, like the trust for his sister, the cards would be shredded.
“I’m going downstairs,” August said sadly. He knew it was impossible to celebrate or give thanks for anything. He was walking downstairs, but Autumn was descending even more.
“Are you angry at me?” Autumn asked. August started out of the door.
“I’m just disappointed,” he said as he walked away. Walking away was his only choice.
“She’ll be down in a while,” August said when he returned to the table.
“About damn time,” his dad said. Minutes passed and Dad decided to start the meal without Autumn. Conversation covered all the normal topics—GM, crime in Flint, Mom’s latest job selling furniture and a recounting of Amber’s academic and social achievements.
“Autumn!” August’s mom shouted suddenly. All eyes turned to Autumn on the stairs. She wore a short black dress, tall boots, and carried her Playboy logo bag. Behind her were two red suitcases.
“I came down to say goodbye,” Autumn said at the bottom of the stairs.
“Autumn, just sit down for dinner,” August’s mom said.
“I’m leaving, tonight,” Autumn said, totally without emotion.
“What are you talking about?” Amber asked, sounding almost bored.
“I’m moving to New York to be a model,” Autumn answered.
“Honey, dear, I think that’s a mistake,” their mom said quite calmly, considering she was crushing her daughter’s dreams. August couldn’t help but notice Amber’s smirking face.
“There’s a huge surprise. Autumn making a mistake and you pointing it out,” Autumn said, her tone flatlining. August’s dad appeared paralyzed.
“That kind of talking isn’t helping,” her mom added. “I’m just saying that—”
“Saying that I don’t know what I’m doing, saying that I’m a fuck-up,” Autumn continued. “Well, it takes one to know one.”
“That’s enough,” her mom said.
“Mom, just say that part of this is your fault that I’m so screwed up,” Autumn begged. “Tell me you could have done things better. Tell me just one time that you made a mistake.”
Autumn’s mom remained silent, like the sky gets before a big storm roars across.
“I can’t live here anymore,” Autumn said, more sad than angry. August thought it was as if she spoke a language where everybody heard what they wanted. His parents heard she was leaving because she hated them, while Amber probably thought it only proved once again that she was the best daughter, but only August heard the truth—Autumn’s leaving was not a promise or a threat. It was not even an act of anger. It was an act of mercy.