Page 136 of Again, In Autumn

She put her hands between them physically and said, “Okay, calm down. Everybody. Vienna…honey, what do you want?”

I remember my mouth went dry. I felt sick. Everyone looked at me and wanted different things from me. I peered up at Adam’s waiting face and whimpered, “I don’t know.”

He looked shocked, his air of false bravado crumbled. “What are you talking about? We have a plan.”

“I just, I don’t know what to do. Maybe we need to think about this some more.”

I know tears started to fall and my dad began to rip into Adam about his stupid dreams, but all I could focus on was Adam’s sunken shoulders, his eyes bearing into the wood coffee table, his face pale.

I reached for his hand. He pulled it away. I’d never had such a worse day. I still have never.

Well, there’s always today.

Heddy takes my arm, her cold hands wrapping around mine. She pulls me into the hallway and into the laundry room. “Breathe,” she says.

I put my hand on my chest. “Adam’s here,” I say.

“I know.” She nods. “Fran called me yesterday and told me how much time you’ve all been spending together and so when Alex called me, I knew he couldn’t come in this house without a buffer.”

“Did you tell him Adam is coming to dinner?”

She tucks my hair back and runs her arms along my shoulders. “I did. And I warned him not to say anything about that day, to act like he just met the boy, and to not cause a scene.”

“He’s not a boy anymore, Heddy,” I respond.

Her expression shifts. She might not know what happened between Adam and me last night, but she’s guessing.

“I need to warn him,” I decide, rushing out of the house.

I hurry, my sock-covered feet on grass and acorns, toward his house and meet Maggie and Diego and their dishes crossing the woods. I slow down and they give me confused looks.

“Happy Thanksgiving!” I say.

Maggie looks at my feet. “Where are your shoes?”

I ignore that, asking, “Where is Adam?”

Just then, their door shuts, and his boots scrape the wood as he rushes down the porch stairs with two bottles of wine. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” he calls out with a smile on his face.

His grin is so big when he sees me, his navy cable knit sweater so in need of hugging, that I feel Grinch-worthy when his bubble is burst.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, coming up to me.

I say to Maggie and Diego, “I need to talk to Adam for a minute.” I take the wine bottles from his hands and lay them on top of the aluminum foiled platter in Diego’s arms. He makes a disgruntled sound.

I grab Adam’s hands and walk him back into the woods, turning so my eyes are on my house.

“Vienna, your feet.”

I wince when I step on a gumball. “Okay, um, so –”

He squeezes my hands. “What’s going on?

I bite my lip. “My dad is here.”

Adam’s eyes narrow. He looks right, to our driveway, and notices the black car parked behind mine. His grip relaxes. “Oh,” is all he says.

“He knows you’re here and he told Heddy he wouldn’t make a scene.”

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