Chapter Four

Drown out, the voice that breaks the silence

And talks the joy out of everything

You were found out and had to walk

In darkness without the only thing you care about.

I was supposed to have been out of this house half an hour ago.

 Instead I’m sitting at the Weavers’ kitchen table holding an ice pack to my cheek and staring up at Autumn’s father who looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here.

 I cannot believe I’m still here. I tried calling Eric, but he won’t answer his phone and it’s really starting to irritate me. He knows how awkward this is for me, he knew before I even left his car how much I didn’t want to fucking come meet this girl’s parents. So the fact that he’s either ignoring my calls, or somewhere where he can’t reach his phone is not making this situation any better.

 But I don’t know what could make this situation improve. I know Mrs. Weaver is upstairs with April trying to calm her down and the less I see of that girl, the better. I know she’s probably had a bit of a shock what with her younger sister dying and all, but that doesn’t mean you can just slap a complete stranger on the stoop of your childhood home.

 I did nothing.

 And maybe that’s why she slapped me. Because I did nothing to stop Autumn from throwing herself over the side of the hotel. I can feel the guilt bubbling in my stomach and I want nothing more than to go back in time to a place where I’ve never heard of Autumn Weaver and she wasn’t apart of my life.

 But she is and there really isn’t anything I can do about it.

 Mr. Weaver clears his throat and I look up in his direction. He looks like he wants to say something, but there aren’t any words forming. I open my mouth to speak, just so the awkward tension in the room can subside, but thankfully the ringing of my cell phone manages to interrupt us.

 “Sorry,” I mumble and I pull my phone out of my front pocket and look at the caller ID.

 Eric.

Thank God.

 “Sorry, Justin,” Eric says by way of greeting, “One of my clients called to bitch about a deal. Are you ready to go?”

 “Yeah.” More than you know, Eric.

 “Great. I’ll be there in like ten.” It’s going to take him ten minutes to drive up the street? But then I realize that he probably went inside for coffee and has to get to his car and all that.

 Guess I have ten more minutes of sitting here with an ice pack while Mr. Weaver shoots me looks and tries to form words that he will never say.

 “Sorry about that,” I tell him, “that’s my ride. I can go wait out front.”

 I don’t mean to be rude, but I just feel so inadequate sitting here and thinking that Autumn lived here and might have sat in this chair as a little girl to get breakfast before school. My eyes land on the fridge and I wonder how many pieces of artwork were stuck to the front, how many good grade report cards were brought home over the course of a lifetime of school.

 How many family dinners had this kitchen seen? How many arguments and jokes and laughter? How many tears? Did Autumn know that the last time she was in this house was the last moment she would ever spend there? The last time she would see her parents?

 God, I cannot stay here.

 I get to my feet and unceremoniously hand Mr. Weaver the now lukewarm icepack. I mumble my thanks for his hospitality and turn to the door that will lead to the hallway and eventually the front door and my salvation.

 Only there is someone blocking me from getting past the kitchen and she is the last person I want to see right now.

 She’s managed to clean herself up a bit – the mascara has been wiped away and her face is less puffy although I’m sure her eyes wouldn’t normally be that swollen. It looks like her hair has actually been brushed and instead of the very wrinkled pantsuit she showed up in, she’s in a pair of worn in jeans and an oversized sweater.

 In all actuality, April Weaver could be considered attractive – if our first meeting wasn’t her smacking me in the face and crying uncontrollably in my arms.

 “Dad, could you give us a minute?” She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, it seems like her being down here is taking April a great deal of energy, “I-I need to speak with Justin.”

 Mr. Weaver, ever the talkative man, merely places the ice pack down on the counter and nods his consent, leaving the way April entered, closing the door behind him.

 And now I’m alone with a woman who attacked me and who could be Autumn’s twin.

 She walks over to where her father had just been standing and she absentmindedly lets a finger run over the contours of the icepack, her focus completely on the square of unfrozen plastic.

 “You aren’t going to slap me again are you?” I blurt out before I can really think of what else to say.

 “No. I’m sorry I did that. I was a bit taken aback.”

 Yeah, no shit.

 “Well that’s good,” I say with a smile, “If you’re going to upgrade to punching, please don’t go for my kidneys, or my face for that matter.” I feel like making a joke or something would lighten the mood – April looks so somber I feel like she might throw herself off a roof next.

 Okay, poor form. I just really want to get the hell out of here.

 And apparently April isn’t in the mood to joke because she’s suddenly rounding on me, her brown eyes flashing with indignation.

 “I’m not in the mood to joke around. Keep it up and I’ll hit you again and it will be wherever I damn well please.”

 I actually find myself shrinking back into the chair. This April is definitely intimidating, and she sounds like her sister. So much like her sister that I can only stare at her with my mouth slightly open, fighting to find something to say that will make me believe that Autumn hasn’t just come back from the dead.

 “Why are you looking at me like that?” April snaps. I feel like I’m walking on eggshells with her. One wrong word or look and I might be used as her personal punching bag again.

 “S-sorry,” I stammer as I try my best to relax, “You sounded like your sister just then.”

 I watch, fascinated, as the tough façade April has constructed begins to crumble. The fire in her eyes extinguishes and I can see the muscles in her pushed back shoulders begin to relax as she leans against the counter, totally defeated.

 “Why were you with her?” her voice is barely audible as she looks down at the tiled floor of the kitchen. And, just like Autumn, I want to reach out and help her. I don’t know why, I can’t place the feeling that’s expanding in my chest, but I just want to be there in whatever capacity I can.

 So I try to relay Autumn’s final moments to her sister as best I can. It’s hard because even though Autumn hasn’t been gone for more than a day, it’s like I’m watching her on a high definition TV screen and it’s being played over and over again in my mind. And I want to be able to describe that to April, but there aren’t enough words to depict what it is I’m seeing or what I’m feeling.

 But I try my hardest. I tell her how I went out to get air, Autumn was there and we had a conversation that went from talking about my work to some deep philosophical reasoning. I know there is no way I’m going to talk about how one minute she was sitting on the roof and the next she was falling. It’s an image that is going to stay with me for the rest of my life and I don’t feel like sharing that with anyone.

 Not even her sister who is crying silently as she watches me retell the events of last night.

 “Did – did she say anything about me?” April asks, barely above a whisper.

 Oh God. I was hoping she wouldn’t bring this up because Autumn’s words are ringing in my head.

 “Because she’s fucking annoying and perfect and everything that I’m not. She’d look at me up here and judge me. No way in hell am I calling April.”

 And watching April in tears about her precious littler sister in her parents’ kitchen gives me a good idea that April feels she’s perceived by her sister in a completely different light. I don’t have the heart to tell her that Autumn’s last words concerning their relationship was less than complimentary.

 “She just said that she loved you very much and didn’t want you to feel like this was your fault in any way,” I lie. I feel bad for doing it, but this girl has seen enough heartache for one day.

 April nods vigorously and bites her bottom lip to try to keep the myriad of tears at bay. “And did she say anything about Rachel?”

 I can tell this Rachel is a big deal by the way April is looking at me intently with wide eyes while chewing on her bottom lip.

 “Who’s Rachel? Autumn didn’t say anything about her,” I explain and April exhales the pent up breath while she was waiting for my answer.

 “Thank God.”

 I’m about to stick my big nose into her and Autumn’s business and ask who the heck this Rachel is, but my phone starts up it’s text message alert.

 Outside. Eric.

 “I have to go,” I say looking up at April as I jam my phone into my pocket and quickly get out of the chair. 

 I move for the door that will take me towards the exit and I’m surprised to see April following close behind me, looking completely at a loss for words or any kind of expression.

 The front door is literally two paces away and I’m about to reach for the handle, when one of April’s hands presses on the front door, keeping me from opening it.

 I can only look at her dumbfounded as she pushes pieces of frazzled brown hair out of her face and looks at me sadly.

 “Look, I’m sorry I hit you. I’m just really screwed up right now and I’m still trying to come to terms that sister is…” her voice breaks and she looks down at the ground, inhaling sharply.

 Two big teardrops fall from her face and onto the floor and I feel absolutely terrible. I know I should just tell her that it will be okay and she’ll come to terms with it all in time, but I feel like that isn’t going to be enough.

 “Hey, April, it’s okay. I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but it will be okay. Look, I know this is going to sound weird, but do you want to grab a bite to eat sometime?”

 I don’t know why those words just came out of my mouth and April doesn’t either because she’s looking up at me, sadness forgotten for just a moment, with sheer disgust.

 “I’m sorry are you asking me out?”

 Oh God. She’s going to hit me again.

 “No, no, no!” I say quickly and hold my hands up to show my complete surrender, “It’s just, I remember when my grandpa died two years ago, and it was good to talk to someone about his life and all that kind of stuff. And I’m still kind of reeling from everything that happened last night and I’m trying to, I don’t know, get some closure out of it.” 

 The silence is deafening and I feel like I’m going to go crazy from the quiet. A floorboard creaks upstairs and I wonder if her parents are listening to my crazy proposal of lunch or dinner with their remaining daughter – like some sick date.

 But it’s not. I just want to make sure this girl is going to be okay, that I won’t be responsible for someone else hurting themselves, and maybe I can go to sleep in the future without relying on Ambien.

 “Yeah, sure, okay.” April nods in consent and I try my best to smile without making it look like a grimace. “Let me get my card.”

 I watch as she disappears into the living room and I quickly dig into my pocket to grab my wallet so I, too, can give her my business card. I always feel like a pretentious shit carrying this stuff around. But, I guess it makes situations like this less awkward.

 As if exchanging numbers with a dead girl’s sister who’s death you just happened to witness for a bite to eat wasn’t awkward enough.

 April shuffles back into the foyer and holds out a small business card. I hand her mine and we both take a minute to examine the other’s card.

 April Weaver -  Schulster and Robb Esq: Associate. 310-248-7512

 “A lawyer,” I say out loud seconds before she looks up at me and gives me a furtive smirk.

 “An agent. Interesting.”

 I’m about to ask her what’s so interesting about me being an agent, but the sound of a horn outside makes me jump. Guess Eric’s here.

 “Well, uh. It was good meeting you?” I don’t really know what else to say. I can’t say it’s been a pleasure or that it was nice because I’m going to probably develop a welt on my cheek.

 “Aside from the circumstances,” April comments as she opens the door and follows me outside.

 I turn to face her and nod in agreement, “I’ll call you to set something up for later this week maybe.” She returns the nod and I spin around so fast to begin my walk to Eric’s car that I almost fall over on the walkway.

 Thank God, I thought he would never get here.

 I get into the car and look up at the house. April is still standing on the stoop watching as Eric pulls the car away from the sidewalk and out into middle of the road.

 “How did the whole thing go?” Eric asks as he turns to look at me to inspect if I’m mentally damaged, “And why the hell is your cheek so red?”