Bring Down the Stars

A silence grew warm and soft between us, even in the cold crisp air of falling night. Autumn stared straight ahead over the vast expanse of the Drakes’ backyard. A coppery red tendril danced across the white porcelain of her cheek. Her hazel eyes full of thoughts of the world and the people in it.

She’s too sweet for my bitterness. Too kind for my mean streak.

Voices rose in anger from inside. Autumn and I exchanged glances and scrambled off the steps, into the small sitting room off the kitchen where Connor argued with his parents.

“… She’s a very sweet girl,” Mr. Drake was saying. “But you really see something happening long-term with her?”

Autumn froze, clutching my arm.

“So, she’s not good enough for you either?” Connor said.

“You don’t want to hear this,” I said in a low voice and tried to steer Autumn away. She shrugged out of my grasp and stood rooted to the spot.

“It’s not a matter of good enough,” Mr. Drake said. “It’s a matter of your future.”

“I’m twenty-two years old,” Connor spat back. “I have to figure out my entire future right now? Well, okay, great. I know

what I want. I don’t want to work for you, Dad. I don’t want a life in politics, Mom. Why are you punishing me for wanting something different?”

“No one is punishing you,” Mrs. Drake said. “We’re preventing you from making a huge mistake.”

“You have not demonstrated responsibility enough to open your own business,” Mr. Drake said. “Using your grandparents’ money to open a sports bar does not, in our minds, constitute a responsible business decision with an eye toward the future.”

“It’s not your money.”

“It’s not yours either and it won’t be if you continue on this vein. You don’t see Wes throwing his future away by pursuing something trivial.”

Autumn’s grip tightened on the sleeve of my shirt.

“Wes has been working his ass off for years to make something of himself,” Mr. Drake said. “Without his wherewithal, I doubt you’d have been accepted into college in the first place, though a liberal arts college seems to be turning your brain to mush. Poetry? I hope your girlfriend isn’t filling your head with hippie-dippy nonsense.”

“At least she understands what I’m trying to do. To create a haven—”

“A haven for drunks? What a prestigious use of the Drake name.”

“I’m not trying to use anything. It’s what I want to do. Why can’t you get that?”

“It’s lazy and irresponsible.”

“Oh, so you need a demonstration of my responsibility,” Connor said.

“Before we summarily hand you six million dollars? I don’t think it’s an unreasonable request.”

“No, God knows you’re nothing if not reasonable.”

“Where are you going?”

“Out. To demonstrate my responsibility.”

A few moments of silence and the front door slammed shut so loudly, I felt it in my chest where my heart was already pounding.

Weston

Autumn stared at me a moment, thoughts whirling behind her eyes. Then she tore through the house, and out the front door. I followed her down the walkway, just as Connor’s Hellcat screeched away. Autumn whipped her phone from her pocket and called him, but let her arm drop a minute later.

“Not answering. Should we be worried? I’m worried.”

“He has a ton of friends in the city,” I said. “He’s probably gone to crash with one of them.”