Page 33 of Damnation
He pops the trunk and gets out one of his usual thick dark sweatshirts and gives it to me, helping me pull it on. I’m swimming in it, but it’s so warm and cozy, and even smells like him, and I think that I couldhappily use it as a blanket and sleep under it for the rest of my life.
“Sorry about before,” I say again. “I wasn’t trying to butt in; I just wanted…”
“To stand up for her,” he finishes for me, a hint of gratitude in his voice.
“She came to see me at the Marsy tonight,” I say, watching Leila. “She was trying to hide it, but I could tell that something was wrong. I just didn’t think the situation would get this out of hand.” I look sadly back at him. “I know about your father, about him being sick. I’m so sorry,” I murmur, wrapping his sweatshirt more tightly around myself.
“Don’t be sorry. That man doesn’t deserve anyone’s sympathy,” Thomas answers harshly. “My sister isn’t like me, though. She’s sensitive, emotional…a good person.” He turns and watches me for a few seconds before continuing. “They begged her to come back home, and even though that’s the last thing in the world she wants to do, she can’t tell them no. And this”—he gestures toward Leila, who is still being held up by Tiffany—“is just the fallout.”
“Sensitivity is the good person’s curse,” I murmur.
“And indifference is the clever person’s armor,” he adds, surprising me. He sticks his hands in the pockets of his jeans, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and lighting one.
Yeah, I’d say that’s your philosophy exactly, Thomas…
“Are you really going to let her go alone?” I ask, trying to sound as neutral as possible.
He breathes out a cloud of smoke and nods in a melancholy sort of way. “I don’t care about that part of my life anymore, you know that.”
“But don’t you think that she might need you? For better or worse, you’re still family,” I say encouragingly.
“I lost my family a long time ago,” he answers coldly, refusing to look at me.
I don’t reply. I’d like to say lots of things and to ask him even more, but I know that this is neither the time nor the place. So I just interlace my fingers with his, lean my head against his shoulder, and whisper, “The most important part of your family is right here.” I look to Leila.“And she will never leave you.”
At first when he looks at me, I’m afraid I’ve said the wrong thing, but then Thomas just rests his head against mine and rubs the back of my hand with his thumb. The little movements echo, I imagine, the twisted spiral of his thoughts.
The silence is broken by shouting from somewhere behind us. We turn around to see Thomas’s friends; apparently they are all drunk. They slur indistinctly and stagger around shouting. They’re yelling like they’re still in the club with deafening music drowning out their voices. Unfortunately, they are actually in a deserted parking lot. There doesn’t seem to be a designated driver, and they seem too drunk to summon a rideshare.
“Shouldn’t we call them an Uber? They can hardly stand up,” I point out to Thomas, worried.
“Dumbasses,” he mutters, pulling his phone out of his pocket.
As he begins ordering an Uber, Tiffany advances on us. “I’m afraid we’re going to be here for a while, so I’m going to take advantage of this moment of calm to get Leila into the bathroom, get her away from all these prying eyes, okay?”
Thomas agrees with a short nod. “Have Marcus get you the key to the private bathroom,” is all he adds.
I help Tiffany lift Leila up, and we escort her to the back entrance of the club.
When I return to the parking lot, I discover that Shana is now here.
She walks unsteadily, using the wall of the club to support her. Eventually a guy, presumably much more sober than she is, puts her over his shoulder, happily clowning around with her. He squeezes her thighs together as Shana licks the side of his neck, giggling. It wouldn’t bother me at all, seeing her this way, if it weren’t for the fact that, as soon as she notices Thomas’s presence, her gaze locks on him and stays there. He’s ignoring her, still trying to order a ride, but Shana is undaunted. If looks could talk, hers would be screaming,Pay attention to me, damn it! Here I am!
When she notices the vicious look I’m giving her in return, it doesn’tbother her one little bit. She just lifts one corner of her mouth in a smug smirk, as if to say she’s not afraid of me. Our stares only grow sharper and more tense. At this point, we are basically attempting to destroy one another with the power of our minds. Thomas finally finishes up on his phone and says something to me, but I’m not listening to him. When he turns to face me, probably waiting for an answer, he sees that Shana and I are exchanging nasty looks, downright filthy even.
“Ignore her,” he orders.
I don’t listen to him. Instead, I cross my arms over my chest and continue to face her with the same menacing vibe she’s directing at me. I am certainly not going to be the first to look away.
“Can you believe it? She isn’t even trying to pretend she’s not obsessed with you. She’s just eyefucking you right here in front of me. That poor guy carrying her doesn’t even realize she couldn’t care less about him.” I say the words to Thomas, but I’m staring at Shana the whole time.
He laughs. Perhaps he finds my jealousy entertaining. Too bad I’m not enjoying it at all. Then Thomas rubs my cheekbone with his thumb before sliding a hand down to my hip and turning me until I’m facing him.
“Don’t let her get to you, okay? Instead, why don’t you tell me what went down between you two?”
I sigh and rub my forehead. I don’t want to play the part of the damsel in distress who whines to her boyfriend just because she was bullied by his crazy, jealous ex. But I can tell by the way he is looking at me that he’s not going to stop pushing until I tell him what he wants to know.
I hide my hands in the pouch of his sweatshirt and blurt it all out. “Last Monday we had a little run-in in the bathroom at school. And she made a point of telling me that it’s only a matter of time before you come back to her. Because that’s what you always do.” Out of pride, I do my best to sound indifferent. I don’t want him to know how much the possibility of that actually happening haunts me.
