Chapter 2
Bennett
There’s a red leaf by my front door.
I push it off the porch with my foot, then glare at the largest tree in my front yard.
I’m home a little earlier than usual, and the sun is still up, so it’s easy to spot the orange and red near the top of the tree.
This is the first evidence of fall I’ve seen on my property this year, though I’ve noticed the changing colors elsewhere.
Autumn is my least favorite season, a reminder of a bad time in my life.
Sure, I’ll buy mooncakes, I’ll give out candy for Halloween, but I don’t particularly enjoy those things, even if I don’t hate the season as much as I once did.
I step inside my house, away from the leaves. It’s dead quiet, as it always is when I come home from work, but for some reason, I’m more conscious of the silence today.
I’m alone.
Aside from Mittens, who appears for a brief cuddle before disappearing again.
I put on my slippers and walk to the back of my house. Everything is exactly where it should be. As usual.
In the kitchen, I prepare a quick dinner, which I eat while going over a report on my phone. Then I make a list of all the stuff I want to get done this weekend. I like being organized.
After cleaning up, I sit down with a book in my front room. I read a chapter, and then my attention drifts to the window, even though the curtains are closed. I feel like I’m waiting for someone, which doesn’t make any sense. I’ve lived by myself for a long time, and I never have plans on Friday.
My life is fairly predictable. On Sunday, I have dim sum with my parents. Occasionally, I see Gil on Saturday. But for the rest of the weekend? I’m without company.
For a split second, I wonder if I’m lonely.
What a silly notion.
I’m fine. This is how I like it, and besides, I was around other people all afternoon.
Still, I scroll through the contacts on my phone, half-heartedly thinking about texting someone.
My brother’s name is early in the alphabet, and I glare at it with more venom than I did that leaf.
Yeah, I’m not texting Clifton, that’s for sure.
I normally spend little time thinking about my younger brother—he’s not worth it—but I find myself wondering what he’s doing now.
He’s probably being more social than I am. Possibly telling falsehoods.
I don’t know a lot about his life, unless it affects the rest of my family.
When my aunt and uncle visited Toronto back in the July, he said he had a place for us all to stay up north: we could spend a few days at a cottage that his friend owned.
My parents loved the idea, but of course, at the last minute, it fell through—or never existed?
I’m not sure, but I had to scramble to come up with something so no one was disappointed.
I set my phone aside and stare at the curtains again. I blame the red leaf for my weird mood. Red should be lucky, but now I can only think of a pile of leaves on the ground, needing to be raked.
With a sigh, I return my attention to the book in my lap.
The beginning of autumn always makes me feel out of sorts.