Page 94 of Collision
“Or simply more agile and less wimpy than you,” he answers with typical arrogance, snatching the notebook out of my hands and giving me an admonishing look for being unable to resist the urge to snoop.
“They’re beautiful,” I say sincerely, wiping bark residue from my hands.
He doesn’t answer me. Instead, we sit silently in the doorway. I pull my legs up to my chest while Thomas stretches his out, letting them dangle in the air. “Is this stuff yours?” I ask gesturing at the junk lying all around. He nods. “Aren’t you afraid someone will come and take it?”
“Hasn’t happened yet. This little house is well hidden by the leaves, and the few people who pass this way after a hike don’t pay it a lot of attention,” he explains, swatting away some midges with his hand.
“It’s like standing on top of the world’s tallest mountain and having full control,” I say captivated by the beauty of nature that surrounds us.
“Do you like it?” He smiles at me with a sweetness so unusual that it makes my stomach curl.
“A lot,” I answer dreamily.
“I figured.”
We spend the rest of the time lying side by side and, to my enormous surprise, I manage to extract a little more personal information from him. He tells me about the small group of friends that he used to shoot hoops with every afternoon as a child. How much he hated the Sunday lunches that his whole family attended. A simple life, seemingly quiet. Yet, as I listen to him telling me about it, I can’t shake the feeling that he is giving me a distorted version of reality, omitting some parts while changing others. Fundamental parts, which I get the impression contain the source of all his cynicism and torment. And I think that is the real reason he left everything and moved to Corvallis. In any case, I don’t want to push it. I’ve finally managed to get him to talk, and I don’t want to risk ruining the moment.
He continues, telling me about the deep bond he had with his grandparents, who practically raised him and Leila and had passed away five years ago. In school, it was a classic case of a boy who had all the capability but didn’t apply himself, he tells me. In fact, his steel-trap mind actually allowed him to goof off as much wanted, because he only ever needed to read someone’s notes to get everything. He had a girlfriend. Yes, indeed, Thomas Collins had a girlfriend. At the age of sixteen. The first and only one: Elizabeth. It lasted more than a yearbefore they broke up, but they still saw each other from time to time, until he moved to Corvallis and broke contact for good. I pretend to be indifferent to these revelations, but I am actually burning with jealousy knowing that there was a girl who got to enjoy a privilege that he no longer grants to anyone. Finally, I discover that he hates licorice and that his life’s passions—besides basketball and drawing—are his irreplaceable motorcycle and his car, which he learned drive at age fifteen courtesy of his uncle. As he talks, he fiddles with a lock of my hair, a sunbeam warms our faces, the leaves move slowly above us, and the peace that hovers in the air makes it feel as though time has stopped.
“Ness?” He shakes my shoulder gently.
“Hmm…”
I hear him chuckle tenderly next to my ear. “We’ve gotta go.”
“What?” I slur.
“It’s six o’clock. You fell asleep.”
What? Six o’clock?
I sit up immediately, rubbing my eyes.
“I fell asleep? But how? When?”
“You took a three-hour nap.”
What the hell…
“I am mortified. You take me to this beautiful place and what do I do? I fall asleep.”
“Don’t worry. I didn’t wake you up because of the way you were sleeping. You seemed pretty tired. Are you sure you can stay on top of your work and school?”
The way I was sleeping? I didn’t drool, did I? Or worse, snore?! Oh God, please tell me I didn’t snore. “Everything’s under control, I just haven’t gotten as much sleep lately,” I explain as I check my phone. There’s a text from Alex asking how I am and two from Tiffany; one to show me the new pair of stiletto heels she bought and another to ask what happened to me. There’s nothing from Logan. It’s strange, ever since we started dating, he’s been texting me nearly every day. I reply to Alex and Tiff and stuff the phone in the pocket of my jeans.
“Why aren’t you sleeping enough? I thought you were a sleepyhead.”
He stands up, grabs the pack of cigarettes and holds out his hand to me to pull me up.
“It’s a timing issue. My shift at the Marsy ends late, and I have to ride home on the bus, which takes a longer route at that time of night. Same thing goes for the morning when I have to go to school. Everything would be simpler if I lived on campus.”
“There are still vacancies, why don’t you apply?”
“My scholarship money doesn’t cover funding for the dorms, but I’m hoping to be able to pay for housing with my salary from the Marsy. I just have to wait a few more months.” When I start to crawl out of the tree house and look down, panic seizes me.
“Oh God, was it this high when we came up?” My legs tremble in the face of that long drop. Thomas nods, looking at me as if I had just asked the stupidest imaginable question while I swallow with difficulty.
“I…I can’t go down,” I stammer fearfully.
