Page 74 of A Series of Rooms
Somehow, they would need to learn to navigate this precarious dance between them, because tomorrow morning, Jonah would climb into the passenger seat of her car and make the three-hour journey back to his childhood home.
It wasn’t a comfortable choice or an easy one, but it was one of the only few available. Jonah had no money. He had no credit and no prospects, a resume more likely to land him in a jail cell than a job, and Jonah never wanted to have to take his clothes off for someone again in order to secure his next meal. This year had made him vulnerable in entirely new ways, and Ellis was right when he’d said that Jonah would need support. This was what he had.
“Your father and I are taking some time apart,”was one of the first things Jonah’s mom had said to him in the aftermath of their reunion. He’d heard it for what it was: an explanation for her husband’s absence and perhaps a token of good faith;a declaration that she had finally come around to taking her son’s side, if only a year too late.
It was a lot to process, packed into a singular statement of fact, and Jonah still wasn’t sure how to feel. The idea of his mother being on her own for the first time since she was eighteen years old was hard to wrap his head around.
His entire life, his mother had been meek and quiet and at his father’s side, falling in line with his decisions about how to run his household, conforming to the traditional role that had been passed down through generations of preachers’ daughters before her. Knowing that Jonah himself had been the fault line of that separation was a double-edged sword.
It was a start, he thought. If she was willing to extend the olive branch, Jonah could find it in himself to try. He would get in the car and return to a home that no longer felt like his own. He would keep his head down and try to find some way of regaining control over a life that had been taken from him.
Beyond that, his future was a wall of solid gray. There was nowhere to go except toward it, with the feeble hope that the opacity would fade with time. That maybe, one day, it wouldn’t feel like he was taking every step in the dark.
The rooftop was empty. He had been counting on that, given the hour and the temperature. The vapor of his breath swirled around his nose and mouth as he moved slowly toward the edge.
The expanse of the city around him made him feel overwhelmingly small, like he could be crushed by the sheer vastness of it on all sides. He gripped the railing, letting the sting of cold metal on his palms ground him.
Chicago was quiet from this high up. In the dark hour of the early morning—so early it was really still night—it glowed back at him with a hundred little signs of life: the flicker of light from an apartment window, the rev of an engine on an empty street. Jonah closed his eyes and wondered what it would be like to see the beauty of this city through the lens of someone who hadn’t seen its ugliest parts.
There was no chance of him separating the negative associations. When he opened his eyes, all he could see was the penthouse floor of the luxury hotel three blocks west where he had once spent an endless Saturday night with one of Shepard’s friends. He saw the glow of a corner store where his last few dollars had bought him a cheap imitation of dinner that had left him hungry and wanting. He saw the bus stop bench where he had sat at three in the morning, wiping blood from his nose with the back of his sleeve.
Maybe they weren’t the exact spots, or maybe they were, but it was all the same in the end. So much of his time here had gone by in a blur, except for the moments that dragged on in excruciating detail. Jonah had seen every dark corner this city had to offer—the same city he had run to for escape—and even as it glowed around him now, in all its sparkling glory, he hoped to never see it again.
A cough from behind him made Jonah jump. He spun, scanning the darkness until he spotted Ellis by the entrance.
When their eyes met, Ellis was already moving to retreat. “Sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t realize anyone was up here.”
“It’s fine,” Jonah said before he could slip back through the access door. “I don’t own the rooftop.”
Ellis studied him for a moment, then let the door close behind him. “It’s cold up here,” he commented, retrieving a pack of cigarettes from his jacket. He walked to the railing, keeping a solid ten feet of distance between them.
Jonah shrugged, averting his eyes toward the city once more. They fell into a surprisingly comfortable quiet, broken only by the flick of a lighter and the occasional exhale of smoke.
“I put in my papers with the Bureau today.” Ellis broke the silence without looking his way. “I’m done.”
Jonah blinked, letting that sink in. When he cast a glance at Ellis, he was met halfway with a rueful grin.
“I don’t know why I’m telling you. I know it doesn’t make a difference.”
“It doesn’t,” Jonah agreed immediately. Then, after a beat: “What are you going to do now?”
Ellis took another drag and let it out into the cold. “For work? I don’t. ..” he trailed off. “I don’t know. My mom passed away earlier this year. She left me her grandmother’s house in Queens. Inherited, paid off. It’s too big for a man living alone, but it should give me a place to lay low until I figure things out.”
“Queens?” Jonah asked. “New York?”
Ellis nodded. “It’s where I grew up.”
He had never considered a version of this man that required “growing up.” To Jonah, he had always been an immovable force; a part of the structure that imprisoned him, that would remain long after Jonah was gone.
“Can I ask you something?” Jonah heard himself say.
“Yes.”
“Are you actually sorry? Not for me, but for your part in all of it. For taking the job at all.”
Seconds ticked by, but Jonah refused to be the one to break the stalemate. He waited him out, tapping his thumbnail against the metal. Finally, Ellis said, “I don’t know how to answer that. Would it make a difference to you, either way?”
No,Jonah thought. It probably wouldn’t.
