Silence

Chapter Eleven - Home

"A home filled with nothing but yourself. It's heavy, that lightness. It's crushing, that emptiness."
― Margaret Atwood, The Tent

Chapter 11 - Home

Jaron sat on his bed, shaking slightly. He could just make out Kira's breathing from the other side of the wall. His mind shot to a scenario where his parents burst in, and instantly found Kira, her heavy breaths like a neon sign, flashing "find me, find me". But of course, he then thought, no one could hear like he could.

The knock startled him. Without waiting for Jaron to respond, Samuel Pierce walked into the room.

"Grab a coat, son. We're going out for dinner."

"Didn't mum tell you," Jaron grumbled in response. "I'm sick."

"C'mon, you've been sleeping all day, tell me you're not the slightest bit hungry."

Jaron started to say, 'I'm not the slightest bit hungry', but his father interrupted.

"You look completely fine. We're going."

He opened his mouth to protest, but his navy overcoat was thrown into his face, muffling the response.

"Be ready in five minutes, we'll be waiting in the car," Jaron's father shot over his shoulder, cheerily, as he pulled the door closed behind him. But Jaron waited until he could hear the revving of an engine from outside of the house, before he spoke to Kira.

"Okay, I think its safe for you to get out of here. You can either climb down from the roof, or you can leave out the front door once we're gone."

Kira rubbed her bare arms. "I think I'll leave through the door, thanks. I've had more than enough adventure for one day."

"Okay, just make sure you close the door behind you. I'll get Jeffery to do some laundry or something so he's out of your way, but I better get going."

He turned to go, but Kira threw her arms around his waist, pulling him into a tight embrace. "Please be careful." Her whisper was stifled as she pressed her face into his torso, but of course, Jaron caught every word.

***

The car ride was long and silent. Jaron's mind however, was not. His head was aflame with thoughts illustrating a multitude of potential outcomes of the night. He had narrowed it down to two likely possibilities; either he would have an ordinary dinner with his parents, or, Jaron had given something away that day and this was the confrontation. But what scared Jaron the most, was that he couldn't tell which one he found more undesirable.

After his father had handed his keys over to a valet, Jaron trudged behind his parents towards the however-many Michelin Star restaurant. They passed numerous cars sporting expensive labels and designer seat covers, glittering brightly in the nightlife, as if they were each made of gold. Considering the kind of people who had bought them, they could have been.

Jaron and his parents were led to a private room, where the walls sparkled from small lights embedded in the golden wallpaper. The ceiling resembled a night sky, with more bulbs glimmering across its expanse in the dimly lit space.  A chandelier overhead sprayed crystal reflections over the table, as if tiny droplets of light pooled on its surface.

Thick navy curtains swung back into place behind Jaron, covering the arched doorway as he was ushered to his seat. The wait staff placed golden embossed menus in front of each of them, before slipping out between the folds of the fabric.