Page 111 of Beyond Oblivion

Thomas seemed to be relieved when he saw us, his usual stoic demeanor softening into something almost approachable. Liis gave a quick wave, but her sharp eyes were already scanning the lot, as if she were calculating escape routes or figuring out which nearby tourist was most likely to start trouble.

“So, you took the left turn at Albuquerque, I see,” Thomas said as he pulled me into a firm handshake-turned-hug.

“Was that a Bug’s Bunny reference?” I asked. “What are you? Middle-aged?”

“Getting there,” he said, chuckling. “But you knew it, so that makes you an old man, too.”

I looked down at Liis’s middle. “I’m surprised they’re still letting you travel.”

She ran her hand over her baby bump. “I’m very persuasive.”

Camille smiled faintly as Liis wrapped her in a brief but genuine hug. “Let’s get moving,” Liis said, nodding toward the car. “Chinle’s not coming to us. Oh, those are very… green,” she said, noticing our luggage.

“Subtle, like her,” I teased.

Camille pressed her lips together but was taking it all in stride. I was impressed; I’d worried before we left that she’d focus on what I’d said about her and Thomas in anger. I’d spent years defending her loyalties, swearing it didn’t bother me—and to be honest, it hadn’t—but in one weak, heated moment, I did the one thing I’d always promised myself I wouldn’t. It wasn’t just a low blow—it cut deeply the person I loved most, and those words would leave a scar even after my anger faded. The worst part was knowing, even as the words left my mouth, that I’d wanted them to. It didn’t matter if I wasn’t myself in that moment; what haunted me was that I was capable of being that cruel to my wife. The shame of it burned in my chest.

“I’m just kidding, baby. I’m sorry,” I said.

“What?” she asked, surprised. “Oh, please, it was funny,” she said, nudging me with her elbow.

I kissed her forehead, making a note in my mind to promise her before we got home that the night I mentioned Thomas was the last time I’d ever cross the line by dredging up the past. Watching Camille now, standing next to me, the hope practically radiating off her that she could fix what I’d broken and knowing she’d forgiven me the second I’d said it...fuck.I’m a piece of shit.I breathed out, trying to somehow release the guilt twisting my insides. She deserved better than that, better than me, and I could only hope I had time to make it right.

“You okay?” she asked, keeping her voice low.

“Yeah,” I said, hooking my arm around her neck and kissing her temple. “Yeah, baby doll. I’m here with you. I’m perfect.”

The drive to Chinle was a mix of casual conversation and the kind of silence that happens when people held captive together on a road trip are too tired to fake the chit chat. Camille sat next to me in the middle row, while Thomas navigated the roads and highways as if he were piloting a government convoy instead of a rental SUV. Liis leaned back in the passenger seat, just enough to maintain a polite angle, filling us in on the preparations they’d made since arriving the day before. They’d already hit the grocery store to stock the fridge and pantry with fresh veggies, marinated steaks, some fancy bread I couldn’t pronounce, and enough wine to impress a sommelier.

Liis ticked off items on her fingers as she continued to detail her grocery list. “We stocked up on essentials plus chicken breasts, bell peppers, zucchini, cherry tomatoes, avocados, limes, fresh cilantro, black beans, tortillas, pasta, ice cream, just… everything. The fridge and pantry look like we live there,” she said, amused with herself. “Oh, and of course popcorn… because it’s movie night.”

“There’s an outdoor projector on the patio,” Thomas explained. “We’re going to watchSpaceballsunder the stars.”

“No shit? This is the best trip of my life already,” I said.

“Right?” Thomas said, nodding. “No light pollution out there. Chinle’s on the Navajo Reservation, by the way. I’ve had some pretty cool spookiness happen when I’ve been out there alone.”

“Sounds… terrifying,” Camille said.

Liis grinned, shaking her head and staring out her window. “After all they’ve been through, you had to say it.”

“It’s the harmless kind of spooky,” Thomas said, feigning offense. “And with the Native folklore and all, it’s going to be the best trip we’ve had so far,” Thomas added, taking his eyes off the road just long enough to grin at Camille and then at me in the rearview mirror.

As the desert rolled by, my usually stoic brother pointed out stores and landmarks on the horizon like a kid bragging about his backyard. “You’ll see every damn star in the sky. This is my escape. No one can sneak up on you in the desert.”

“Thomas James!” Liis barked, then laughed once when the shock wore off. “Christ on a bike, would you stop?”

“Shit. I’m sorry,” he said, reaching over to touch her belly.

I shook my head. “This trip is supposed to take our mind off things, Tommy. Keep up.”

Driving into Chinle felt like we’d crossed through a portal to another planet. The air was dry, smelling faintly of sagebrush, and the heat clung to everything like an overly affectionate relative. Tumbleweeds rolled lazily across the occasional empty stretch of road as if they owned the place, and honestly, they probably did.

The town itself was almost at a standstill, a patchwork of small businesses with faded signs, dusty streets, and houses that looked like they’d been plucked straight out of an old western and dropped there to sunbathe. A group of kids shot hoops on a beat-up court just inside the city limits, their laughter cutting through the quiet. Chinle wasn’t about impressing anyone—it was raw, worn-in, and unapologetically itself—the kind of place where time didn’t move slower; it just didn’t care to keep up with the rest of the world.

By the time we pulled into the drive of Thomas’s favorite rented oasis, the sun was dipping low, casting long shadows over the desert. The house itself was straight out of a travel magazine. Adobe walls, a flat roof, and big windows that let in all the natural light. Inside, it was simple but nice—wooden beams, terracotta tile floors, and a fireplace that probably hadn’t been lit since the ’80s. Camille wandered through the rooms like she was cataloging every detail for later, then joined me to help unpack. Once we were settled in, we followed the smell of garlic to the kitchen.

Thomas and Liis were already at work, their movements perfectly in sync, a clear sign of the countless meals they’d prepared together over the years. Liis chopped vegetables while Thomas stirred something in a pot, the savory smell of garlic and herbs tugging at a memory of something Mom used to make when we were kids.

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