Your History of Silence

Chapter Nine

Joel stood in front of the mirror, studying his reflection critically. He was wearing one of the suits he wore for work – the only acceptably nice garments he owned – and was wondering what else he could do to make himself look better. He’d scrubbed his face, taken out his earrings, covered up his tattoos, and even used some cologne he’d borrowed from Billy.

“Looking sharp,” said Benji, appearing over his shoulder. He, too, was garbed in one of Joel’s work suits, since the nicest thing Benji owned was a pair of dress shoes that he’d gotten from Goodwill on a whim and had never worn before. Unlike his brother, Benji had not bothered to wipe of his ever-present smudging of eyeliner and hadn’t removed any of his piercings.

“Don’t you wanna take those out?” Joel asked, gesturing to Benji’s face.

“Why? Vee likes me the way I am, why should I be different for her mom?”

“From what I understand, she’s very...traditional.”

“Traditions are made to be broken,” Benji said in a sing-song voice. Joel didn’t really agree, but knew it would pointless to argue with him. He felt bad for Vienna, though – if their mother was half as strict as the girls had made her out to be, the older sister was in for a rough time when she brought Benji home.

Vienna, Joel thought with a sigh. All week, he’d been mentally comparing the older sister to the younger and hating himself for it. It was wrong and inappropriate on so many levels. But he couldn’t help it – something about her captivated him. Something about her look and her carefree attitude stuck with him and, every time he thought about Charlotte, his mind would wander to Vienna.

Charlotte, Joel told himself firmly. You are dating Charlotte. She’s very nice and pretty. There is no reason to think she isn’t just as good as Vienna.

“Dude, cab’s here,” Benji called from the front of the house. Joel straightened his tie one last time and headed out the door after his brother. He was quiet on the cab ride to the Rousseau house, but Benji chattered away about all the things he wanted to ask Robert and things he’d heard about him. It normally would have gotten on Joel’s nerves, but tonight his nerves were all in full use worrying about just how awkward this dinner could possibly be.

Their house was, as expected, completely enormous. It was white with gray shingles, a round stairwell that jutted out from the house, and a large, immaculate front lawn. It must have taken them – or their gardeners, anyway – hours to mow the whole thing. Even Benji was nervous approaching the large, polished wood double doors at the top of the front steps.

“So, uh, you wanna ring the bell or should I?” Benji chuckled, tugging at his collar as though it was attempting to strangle him. Joel understood the feeling.

“You do it,” said Joel, tucking his hands in his pockets in order to wipe the sweat from them.

Benji reached up and pressed the button to the left of the door, which resulted in a series of tinkling notes to the tune of “Oh, What a Beautiful Morning.” Joel and Benji barely had time to exchange awed looks before the door was pulled open.

Vienna stood in the threshold, garbed in a silky, white-gold colored dress that was draped and bunched around her neckline and ended mid-thigh. On her feet were a pair of rose-gold flats with flowers along the toe straps. Only her hair had refused to be tamed – it fell loosely around her shoulders in its usual dirty-blonde curtain.

“Weclome to Hell,” she said, holding the door open for them. They stepped into the foyer, looking around with open mouths. It was a cavernous room, with a ceiling so high up you had to squint to realize it was there and pure white marble covering the floor. Vienna’s flats tap-tapped as she led the way into a small room off the foyer. Small by comparison, that is. The ceiling was slightly lower and a great, crystal chandelier hung over a long table large enough to seat at least a dozen people. Six place settings were already made up, with more silverware than Joel had ever seen in his life.

“Your home is beautiful,” said Joel, hoping he appeared to be looking around appreciatively.

“Did your mom dress you in that?” Benji blurted out.

“Benji,” muttered Joel, elbowing his brother.

At that moment, Charlotte breezed into the dining room. She was dressed in a pastel pink dress that covered her shoulders and ended in delicate, feathered layers around her knees. There was a slight sparkle to it as she moved, drawing Joel’s eye as she approached. When she reached him, she hesitated and then wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He’d thought she was too short to do so – when she pulled away, he saw she was wearing silver heels.

“I’m so glad you could come,” said Charlotte politely to the both of them. “Our parents will be down soon.”

“So prepare yourselves,” said Vienna darkly, picking up one of the champagne glasses that was situated at each place setting and taking a generous sip.

“Vienna, you’re not old enough,” scolded Charlotte, taking the glass away from her and setting it on a low table against the wall. “But can I offer either of you a drink?”

“I’m fine,” said Joel.

“Yeah, me, too,” Benji agreed. He was still staring at Vienna’s outfit with an expression that suggested she had strolled out wearing a Hitler costume.

“You both look amazing,” said Joel, since Benji had apparently lost the ability to speak. It was rude, but probably for the best.

“Thanks,” said Vienna, looking around and then saying, “Excuse me.”

“Thank you,” said Charlotte with a bit more sincerity, watching anxiously as her sister left the room. “Sorry about her. She’s nervous, I think.”

I’m nervous,” Joel admitted with a weak laugh.

“Don’t be. I’m sure my mom will love you.”

“And me, too?” asked Benji.

Charlotte eyed him warily and, working her face into a smile, said, “Of course. You’re her daughter’s significant other, of course she’ll love you.”

“Significant other?” Benji repeated. “We’ve only gone out once.”

Charlotte looked helplessly at Joel, obviously not sure what to say to that, and Joel was about to call Benji an idiot when the sound of high heels clacking on the stairs met their ears. Moments later, Mrs. Rousseau stepped into the room.

Joel knew instantly that this was not a woman to be crossed – she was dressed in a long-sleeve, brown dress with a Michael Kors logo on the left side of the chest. She wore high-heeled boots which clicked ominously with every step she took toward them. Her face reflected none of the soft curves Charlotte’s did, instead favoring Vienna’s sharp features. Her hair was a pale blonde, pulled up into a tight French twist at the back of her head.

“So,” said Mrs. Rousseau as she reached them. She was equal in height and met their eyes in turn. “You must be Joel and Benjamin.”

“Benji,” correct Benji with a grin. “Benjamin is so formal.”

“Well, it’s certainly nice to meet you, Benjamin,” she said curtly. “And you, Joel. Shall we have a seat?”

Benji gave Joel a look that seemed to say, “Yeesh!” then sat down two seats away from Mrs. Rousseau. Charlotte led Joel around to the other side of the table, sitting to her mother’s immediate right so she made a small buffer between him and her mother.

There was a tense silence as the four of them sat there, the only sound being the occasional clink as Benji fiddled with his silverware. Each time this happened, Mrs. Rousseau’s head would snap around and she would fix Benji with a cold look until he set the silverware back down in its proper place and concealed his empty hands beneath the table. But it would only be a few minutes before he was at it again and the whole cycle repeated.

Joel, who had been staring fixedly at his plate, finally looked up and said, “You have a beautiful home, Mrs. Rousseau.”

“Thank you,” she said stiffly. “It’s been in the family since the early 1900’s.”

“Oh, I thought the place looked old,” said Benji. Catching Joel’s eye, he quickly added, “Timey, that is. Old-timey and, what he said. Beautiful.”

“Mother,” said Charlotte, obviously trying to smooth this awkward comment over, “Joel is a singer at that restaurant father likes so much, Suzanne’s.”

“Oh?” said Mrs. Rousseau, turning her full attention on Joel. Joel, who would really rather have avoided her direct attention, fought the urge to slide down in his seat. “And what kind of music do you sing there?”

“Classic swing,” he said quietly. “Frank Sinatra. That kinda – kind of stuff.”

“I do love classic music,” said Mrs. Rousseau, finally smiling. “I sang a little myself, as a girl. Opera. Charlotte has taken after me in that respect. She’s quite a talented girl.”

“I know,” said Joel quickly. “She told me she sings and plays piano. I haven’t heard her yet, but I bet she’s great.”

“She’s good enough,” Mrs. Rousseau said dismissively. “She also played the flute in the high school band, she sews wonderful pieces, she plays tennis at the country club and is involved in several ballet productions.”

“Wow, that’s... that’s a lot.”

“Yes, she keeps a very busy schedule. She takes nursing courses at the local university every week night, has her tennis lessons every Tuesday and Thursday, and practices for the local production of Swan Lake every afternoon.”

“Wow, so only Saturdays and Sundays off, huh?” asked Benji.

“Church,” said Charlotte softly.

“Oh, I nearly forgot about that,” said Mrs. Rousseau excitedly. “Charlotte is in the church choir, as well. They have rehearsals Saturday mornings.”

“Wow, do you ever get to do anything fun?” Benji asked. “I mean, that leaves you, what? Three mornings a week?”

“I go out on Saturday nights,” said Charlotte quickly. “That’s all the social activities I need, aside from family parties.”

“Robert hosts the most wonderful parties,” agreed Mrs. Rousseau.

“Did I hear my name?” boomed Robert Rousseau’s cheerful voice, preceding a much merrier version of the Robert they’d met several nights previously. As he entered the room, dressed in a light brown suit and a blue shirt beneath, his eyes locked onto the twins and he said, “Boys, so good of you to come. I see you’ve met my lovely wife.”

As he passed, Mr. Rousseau bent down and kissed the side of his wife’s head. To Joel and Benji’s amazement, she giggled and blushed. Vienna trailed after her father, locking eyes with Benji and refusing to look anywhere else until she was seated next to him. She seemed to have no problem with the empty seat between her and Mrs. Rousseau.

“So, what are we discussing?” asked Mr. Rousseau, taking the place at the head of the table, opposite his wife.

“We were just discussing Charlotte’s many pastimes,” said Mrs. Rousseau.

“A lengthy list,” chuckled Robert. “Have you brought up Vienna’s pastimes as well?”

“No,” she sniffed, not glancing her eldest daughter’s way.

“You boys should know, my little Vee is an accomplished baseball player, soccer player, pianist and singer. She’s also got a talent for making my wife’s blood pressure spike.”

Benji laughed at that and Joel allowed a small smile and a worried look at Mrs. Rousseau. If she was upset by the comment, she didn’t show it. She saw Joel looking and smiled politely. “Yes, Vienna is very...athletic.”

“You guys picked really interesting names,” said Benji then, looking between the two of them. “How did you pick Vienna and Charlotte?”

“It’s where they were born,” said Robert. “It started with their brother, Link. We were on a train going through Nebraska at the time, it had gotten stopped in a blizzard and poor Is had to give birth right there on the train. And they hadn’t her the baby wrapped in my overcoat and I said, ‘What are we going to call him?’ and she says, ‘I don’t even know where we are, how am I supposed to know what I want to call him?’ and so I asked the conductor where we were and he said, ‘Lincoln,’ and that’s what we named him.”

“The girls were more intentionally named,” said Mrs. Rousseau. “We travelled around Europe my last month with Vienna.”

“A few hours earlier, and Vienna’s name would have been Klagenfurt or something like that,” laughed Mr. Rousseau. “And carrying Charlotte was a bit harder on Isobel, so we just traveled up and down the eastern states and Charlotte’s where we ended up.”

“Where’s that?” asked Benji.

“North Carolina,” answered Joel. “You have interesting kid names, for sure. So how did you meet? That has to be an interesting story.”

“Oh, it is,” said Robert enthusiastically.

Joel’s flattery worked well – the story Robert told lasted the entire meal. They worked through three courses of tangy soup, seared salmon, and chocolate mousse. The salmon came with a large salad and, by the end of the meal, Joel thought he might burst. He and Benji had been living on Ramen and hot dogs for so long, it was almost painful having a full stomach.

After dinner, Vienna and Charlotte began to clear the table. Joel got up to help, but Robert said, “You’re a guest, Joel; you don’t have to clean up.”

“No, I want to help,” Joel insisted. He attempted to catch Benji’s eye, but his twin was already getting up to follow Robert into the living room, where Robert had promised they’d discuss music and recording. With a sigh, Joel resigned himself to the fact that his brother was completely hopeless.

As he was gathering up a handful of silverware, Vienna stepped back into the room. Joel looked up, finding himself unable to look away as she met his gaze for the first time that evening. She stood in the doorway, her expression slowly moving from cheerful to angry.

Before Joel knew what was happening, Vienna had crossed the room and put both hands on his chest. For one wild second, Joel thought she was going to kiss him. Then he was stumbling backward from the force of the shove she gave him. He grabbed onto the table to stop himself from falling, his hand knocking into the sugar dish and causing it to clatter noisily against the butter dish.

“Whoa, what—”

“Stop staring at me,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “You are dating my sister, and she and I have both noticed you look at me when you know damn well you shouldn’t be. My sister is the sweetest, most naïve person in the world and if you hurt her – and her seeing you stare at me definitely hurts her – anymore, I will make you wish you’d never been born, got it?”

The she turned so fast that her hair whipped Joel in the face. He stared after her, too shocked to even respond, and continued to stand like that until Charlotte came back into the room and gave him a puzzled look.

“Joel?” she asked tentatively. “Are you okay?”

“I’m...fine,” he said, shaking his head. What the hell had just happened?