Page 36 of Again, In Autumn

“She’s got you there,” I respond, taking a swig from the glass of water on my nightstand.

Kate turns. A sly smile creeps the corner of her perfected mouth. “What’s Adam Kent like?”

Oh. I see.

My throat constricts.

“Fat and bald,” Francesca snaps.

Kate blinks and addresses me. “What’s Adam Kent like?”

Fat and bald, fat and bald, fat and bald.

“Dark and brooding,” I stomach. I tuck my hair back. “Carefree. Adventurous. A little too fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants if you ask me.”

I catch Francesca’s frown from my peripheral vision.

“But he’s really into classic rock music and not buying anything that five people haven’t already owned and disposing of plastic properly.”

That meant to come off as dismissive like, he’s a weirdo that cares about the environment, but the opposing looks thrown at me say: ‘Tell me more, tell me more – like does he have a car?’ And: ‘Are you the reason for the bodies in the walls?’

“I’m not stalking him,” I tell Francesca.

“I didn’t say you were.”

I shrug and rush, “That’s just from what I remember about him from fourteen years ago. We didn’t spend a lot of time together so maybe I read him wrong I just felt like that was the vibe he was giving out and I was picking up, it’s just what I observed.”

Silence.

“Are you ill?” Francesca asks.

Kate sighs. “Well, I will just have to see for myself. Dark and brooding is a vibe I can definitely entertain. I also love a man who cares about the environment.”

“He’s a musician. He probably has chlamydia,” comes Francesca’s response.

“Like I said, I’ll have to see for myself,” Kate sneers. She smacks her teeth and walks out of the room.

Francesca leans into the hallway. “Um, do you know what chlamydia is?” she demands. She stands upright and points her thumb backward. “What is with her?”

“She’s beautiful.” I sink into the bed. “Attractive people like attractive people, it’s how the world works. It’s obvious that she would be interested in Adam.”

How did I not see this coming?

Francesca waves me away. “No, she’s been like this. All year.”

“She’s just protecting her brother.”

“From me? What did I do?” She throws her hands in the air. “We were separated for a year. A mutual decision. Nobody did anything. I’m not the big bad wolf in this scenario.”

“You did just make fun of her outfit.”

“Because she’s barely clothed! I have every right to comment on her attire. I’m her elder. And her sister-in-law.”

“She’s twenty-three,” I point out. “I think her Malibu beachwear is fine.”

Ignoring me, Francesca continues, “I have no idea where the sweet little girl I once knew has gone. She used to love me. We went to the mall together, we danced, we sang. We were a freaking joy. Why does she hate me so much now?”

I grab a pair of knit socks from my suitcase. “She doesn’t hate you. But she does think you’re shrill.”

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