Chapter Twenty-Six

Excerpt from Autumn’s Fall

‘Christmas Climax—or Christmas Cataclysm?’

“Who’s there?” August’s mom yelled at the front door from the kitchen.

“Get that! We’re busy,” his Dad yelled back, way too loud. Maybe it was the pressure of the holidays or worrying about Autumn, but August could tell his dad was cracking. His father would never admit to it, but the eight empty beer bottles from last night told a different story.

“Fine, fine,” his mom said, her tone that of someone pretending to be happy as opposed to someone who was happy. Autumn’s disappearance on Thanksgiving had left more sadness than anger in their home. She’d been seen around town, but not school or their house. She wouldn’t even return my phone calls.

“It’s Autumn!” his mom shouted as she opened the door. August’s dad got the strangest looks on his face, like some sort of emotional Wheel of Fortune. But when his dad slammed his fist onto the floor, August knew the wheel had landed on red anger.

“What do you want?” August’s dad yelled, while August rushed toward the door.

“We were so worried.” August’s mom opened her arms, but Autumn’s arms remained folded across her chest. Although she’d left a month ago with one suitcase, when she took off her coat, August saw she was dressed not like a runaway, but like a model on the runway, like somebody with access to a credit card—their dying-of-cancer grandmother’s credit card. August had found an overdue bill on another card. She lied, he snitched and hated himself.

Autumn stared at August, like she wanted him to say something, but no words came. Amber spoke instead. “What’s today’s melodrama performance, Autumn?”

Autumn didn’t respond. She just kept staring at August. Only her eyes spoke. They said, Help me, please. But August turned his back on his family’s prodigal problem middle child.

“Amber, August, please go up to your rooms,” their dad said.

“Daddy, I’m not fourteen. You can’t—”Amber started.

“Now!” he shouted, and Amber did as she’d always done—obeyed. She and August walked upstairs without a word. He watched Amber go into her room, but August merely opened then closed the door to his. Instead, he lay on the floor near the edge of the stairs.

“If you want to stay here, you’re going to do things our way,” he heard his dad yell.

Autumn spoke, but August couldn’t hear it.

“We were so worried about you,” August’s mom said. “We don’t know—”

“I’m not perfect like Amber. I’m just a fuck-up!” Autumn shouted. August couldn’t make out the rest of her words, but it didn’t matter. This wasn’t about words. If words solved every problem, then August would be ecstatic all day. So would his dad with his crossword puzzles. But life wasn’t a series of little black and white squares with clues.

“No one is asking you to be perfect,” his mom said.

“Good, then I don’t need to change my name to Amber,” Autumn replied.

“Stop that,” his dad said. “I’m so tired of that. Stop blaming everyone but yourself.”

“Then whose fault is it?” Autumn fired back. “I know for sure it’s not yours!”

“It’s your fault, Autumn,” Dad said. Loud. Firm. Final.

“Big surprise,” Autumn replied.

“Honey, you can’t change unless you admit you’re wrong,” her mom added.

“Stop your therapist crap on me,” Autumn said. “Lot a good that did you two, right?”

“This isn’t about your mother or me, but you,” Autumn’s father said.

“It should be!” Autumn shouted. “Daddy, maybe if you’d sober up and fuck her every now and then, she wouldn’t need therapy.” A hard slap from one of their parents silenced her.

“You hateful, ungrateful child!” her mom shouted. “Leave this house right now!”

“Tossing your daughter out on Christmas,” Autumn said. “Really Christian of you.”

“You threw yourself out,” his dad replied. “Your actions, your consequences.”

“I messed up. I want a second chance,” Autumn fired back. “I know it’s hard with a perfect daughter like Amber, but people make mistakes. I said I’m sorry. What do you want?”

August heard his mother sigh loudly. “Lord knows where you stayed these past weeks!”

“I fucked for my rent,” Autumn said. “You got me to say it. Are you happy? Are—”

Autumn’s words again get slapped from her mouth. Silence returned until August’s mom said through tears, “You stole from my dying mother. How could you do this? Who are you?”

“I can’t live like this anymore,” his dad said, his words fading, followed by footsteps.

“Daddy, where are you going?” Autumn shouted. More steps, a door opened, then closed.

“Autumn, we ground you, you ignore it,” August’s mom said. “We show we love you, and you look at us with such hate. I don’t know what else we can do.”

Autumn mumbled something in return. August hoped it was a family-saving apology.

“If we can’t love you or control you, then we can’t have you live here,” his mom said.

There was silence, except for maybe crying. August wasn’t sure this time who was crying until her heard his mom say, “Autumn, honey. Please don’t cry.” August inched closer.

“I’m so sorry, so sorry for everything,” Autumn wailed. “I want a second chance.”

“You’ve used up your second chances,” August’s mom said. “There are some things you can’t forget or forgive even if—”

But her words were cut short by the sound of the door opening then heavy footsteps headed back into the living room. August moved closer, risking being seen, but he wanted to hear everything. He expected his dad to say something, but there were just shouts from the women.

“Oh my God, no,” his mom yelled. “What in God’s name are you thinking?”

“Daddy, what are you doing?” Autumn shouted.

“Autumn, here’s a pistol. Take it from me,” August’s dad said. “Either kill yourself or kill us. We can’t live with what you’ve done and what you’ve become. Take it and end this!”

August heard nothing for ten seconds

Nothing except the beating of his heart.

Then twenty seconds.

Nothing except his mind overheating with worry.

Then thirty seconds.

The silence of a life-and-death decision was the loudest sound in the universe.

August started downstairs to protect his family, but was stopped before he reached the bottom of the stairs. He wasn’t stopped by a loud gunshot, but by the metallic clicking sound caused by the trigger against an empty chamber. He could only hear the click, not see the faces. Who pulled the trigger? Where was the gun pointed?

In the distance, he heard Autumn shout, “I hate you!” followed by the clicking of her high heels across the floor then a final click—the door closing as Autumn left their life forever.