Page 28 of Again, In Autumn

“Why don’t you parent your children?” I call over my shoulder.

She shrugs. “We’re on vacation.”

Before I can leave the room, however, we’re all frozen by the sound of something in the pantry. It bumps against the door.

“The peacock,” Grayson whispers.

“The ghost,” Francesca says.

“The Alice,” I decide.

David opens the door to a surprised, horrified scream. Alice pauses, cross-legged in the middle of the closet, one cookie in hand and another in her mouth.

David and Adam laugh while Francesca comes to scoop her up from the floor.

“Alice Marie!” she admonishes. “When did you sneak in there? Where did you get those cookies from?”

“Auntie Vee must have made them,” Grayson says. “They’re too pretty to be from the store.”

Fran takes the cookie and spins it around in her hand. “Oh yeah. Thanksgiving cookies. These are great, Vienna!” She takes a bite. “Cinnamon?”

I nod, tense. Still begging for a reason to get out of this room.

She says, “We should send some with Adam, you always bake enough for a Star Wars convention and my children turn rabid on sugar.”

I nod. Tense.

I listen to the sound of Adam’s breath. He’s about to speak. It makes me more tense.

He says, “Actually, why don’t you all come over for dinner tonight? My sister Maggie and her husband Diego would love to meet you. We’re just grilling out: hotdogs and hamburgers, chips, s’mores.”

As the three other adults discuss their plans, Grayson begins to walk out of the room and my hand’s still glued to his shoulder, so I take the exit with gratefulness. In the hallway by the back stairs, I exhale.

Adam’s voice carries through the kitchen, but I stare at the back door, imagining the sound coming from below the buzzing porch light as its surrounded by bugs. He’s whispering to me through the screen, asking if everyone else has finally gone to sleep.

Chapter Nine

Heddy’s magic must have worked. She summed him and the Universe said, “Sure! I’d love a little entertainment for the holiday weekend. I don’t plan on dropping a million dollars in your lap, so I’ll bring around some painful past instead.”

This is why I didn’t come back here.

So many things made me afraid of this house. I have ten weeks’ worth of memories of Adam greeting me at dawn on the porch, making up stupid songs about back handsprings and booty shorts, and our simultaneous lies about why we couldn’t join Dave and Francesca for a boat day.

Too sunburned.

Slept on my neck weird.

New cheesecake recipe to try out.

Now I’m stuck in this house because it’s not safe outside of it. He’s out there.

Francesca comes up to stand me. I’m on the couch with Alice, the poor child clutching a food storage container, snuggled into my side, watching a high-pitched cartoon dog sing about poop.

I point to the television and ask Francesca, “Is this how you teach your children about bodily functions? Just let the animators do it?”

“I think it’s AI,” she says. “And yes.”

She comes around in front of us and rubs Alice’s hair from her forehead. “Ally, be a good girl and use the bucket if you need to be sick again. Auntie Vee’s going to stay with you.”

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