Page 93 of Feel It in the Air

I nod. Slumping down in the chair, I run my hands down my face, trying to make this all make sense. But I can’t. Instead, all I can do is wonder what Margeaux knows. And if she does, what she is thinking and feeling. If it matches my own set of emotions.

Anger. Confusion. Sorrow.

“Not yet. I came straight here,” he answers, his voice softer, heavier now. Like it’s full of the same regret mine is. “Auggie, I will need you and Percy when we talk to her.”

Instinctively, I feel my father nod, voice filling in the background of my thoughts as he says something I can’t quite make out, my emotions taking over, drowning out everything else.

I need to talk to Margeaux. Tell her it’s going to be okay. That I’ll fix this.

Except, I can’t.

Can’t talk to her. Can’t fix this either.

Fuck.

Fuck.

“Milo, I believe you have a bar to open. We’ll reschedule our lunch. For a day when your older brother isn’t single-handedly undoing seven generations’ worth of work with his dick.”

Thanks, Dad…

The soft snick of the door closing behind my brother is loud enough to be heard from the moon, even over the exasperated sigh Auggie lets out as he sits down next to me. Looking over at him, my stomach plummets.

Because this time it’s worse than it was that day at Munch. This time I know will haunt me for the rest of my life.

Pure disappointment.

It really would be easier if it were anger.

“I told you this was going to come back to bite you.” His tone is careful, his words even, devoid of all feeling. It’s the coldest thing I’ve ever heard him say.

I nod, not knowing what to say. Mostly because there isn’t a response to that. I could try to defend myself, but that would be no use. I assured him not two weeks ago that I had this under control. That nothing like this was going to happen. I was so fucking sure it wouldn’t.

So fucking sure.

So much so it led to what I thought was a hell of a father and son moment. One that’s tasting a lot more bitter than sweet right about now.

“What am I going to do with you, August?”

It’s rhetorical, but I can’t help but answer. Even in a moment like this.

“Since I’m on administrative leave, making me mow the lawn is about the only thing you can do.”

“Don’t push it, I just might.”

I bark out a laugh, my anxiety bubbling up and out of me.

“I ran that department fairly,” I defend.

“Of that, I have no doubt. But that doesn’t really matter, does it? Because you made a choice. And now we have to live with the consequences. A-B-C, son.”

A-B-C…

I sigh, pulling my lips inward and biting down, nodding at the trite adage that Auggie repeated to us over and over as kids. Well, maybe it’s not quite as trite anymore given the circumstances.

Life is as simple as A-B-C…Actions Bring Consequences…

Problem now is, I’m not exactly sure what the consequences are. Of how this is all going to play out. All I know is that none of it is good.