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Chapter Thirty-One
Agatha had been gonefor days, and Chris knew it was stupid to sit on his step waiting for her to come out at 3 p.m., but he did it anyway. Violet’s mom was on maternity leave, so she wasn’t coming down here anyway. But just like he had every day this week, he sat and waited.
There was nothing else he could do. She didn’t answer her phone. Sera wouldn’t give her his messages; in fact, she wouldn’t even talk to him. He had no idea where any of her sisters lived. His only connection to her was her house, which she had abandoned.
By 3:30 p.m., he knew she wasn’t coming out, but he still hadn’t given up the hope that she would. Just then, a SUV stopped in front of the house. A blonde woman jumped out of the driver’s seat and hurried to the front door, quickly unlocked it, and went inside.
The blonde was not Agatha’s mom; it was her sister. Maybe she would talk to him. With speed he hadn’t needed for over a year, he rushed to the house. The door wasn’t locked, so he went inside. It looked exactly same as the last time he had been inside, only it felt different, empty.
“Hello, anyone home?” He knew she was there, but he didn’t need her calling the cops on him.
“Fuck! You gave me a heart attack,” Harper said from the doorway of the kitchen, a hand pressed to her chest.
“Sorry to scare you. I’m trying to find Agatha.”
“She’s not here.” She huffed and turned and went back into the kitchen.
“But you know where she is.” It was not a question.
“Yes, I do, but you don’t need to know that information.” Chris followed to find her digging in the pantry.
“Please, Harper. I just need to talk to her again. Just for a minute, please,” Chris pleaded. At this point, he wasn’t beyond begging, but he knew better than to get too close to the woman.
“So you remember me then? Must just be my sister you can’t remember,” Harper stated, slamming a pile of paper plates onto the counter.
“I’m sorry I didn’t recognize her. She’s changed over the last few years,” Chris said, not wanting to go into it with this woman. All he wanted to do was explain it to Agatha.
“Some of us like those changes.” She tossed some plastic cups on the island that her mom and sisters sat at on Saturday mornings, just not this last Saturday. Nobody had been here on Saturday morning. He had been watching.
“I don’t know what to say to you, Harper.” He ran his fingers through his hair. He didn’t know how to get the woman he loved back. Frustration and defeat were all he felt, and he knew that neither were going to get her to come back to him.
“I don’t know either, Chris. Agatha is special; she always has been. She doesn’t let many into her world. She may put out this image of being emotionless, but she isn’t. Her hurts run deep.” Harper slammed a container of plastic forks on the counter next.
“When did she start going by Agatha?” he asked. It was a small detail, but he wanted to know everything about her.
“Birth!”
“She went by Christie in school,” he reminded her.
“Because some little shithead in kindergarten made fun of her name. She couldn’t pronounce it right, and he made fun of her a lot.” She stopped digging in the cabinet as she spoke, her anger visible. “After that, she went by Christie in school, but at home, she was always Agatha.”
“The men in your family don’t call her Ag. Why?” If she was willing to talk to him, he wanted to get more answers.
“Because she doesn’t let them. Buzz is the same way. She is Bea to the world, but at home, she goes by Buzz. You have to be special to call her Buzz,” Harper said, going back to digging in the cabinet.
“I want to see her,” he pushed, trying again.
“That’s not up to me. She has to come back when she’s ready.” Harper gathered up all the paper products and headed for the door. He could tell she was done talking to him, and he wasn’t going to get anything from her. Not today.
“Can you just tell her that I want to see her?” he asked, following her through the living room, still strewn with Poppy’s things. Agatha hadn’t taken much when she had walked out and hadn’t been back for any of it. The book she had thrown was still on the floor, just where it had landed.
“I can, but she’s hiding,” Harper said, letting him open the front door for her.
“From me?” He knew he shouldn’t ask, because he already knew the answer.
“From everyone,” Harper stated, not looking at him. Her answer told him that her family might know where she was, but she was hiding from them also. Hiding right in front of them.
After locking the door, he helped Harper into her SUV. As he watched her drive away, he wondered if she would tell her sister he wanted to talk to her. At this point, he had no clue.
All he knew was that he wasn’t going to find Agatha. She would stay away as long as he was around, leaving him no way to see her or speak to her. She wouldn’t let him explain anything to her. He wanted to tell her he had changed from that dumb kid she had known before. He had realized now what was important in life. It was her. It had always been her.
