Page 64 of Damnation
“Dinner with the both of you,” she adds.
My eyes bug out. “W-what?”
She looks away for a second, staring at some vague point behind my shoulder; then she looks back at me. “You and I are very different in some ways but very much alike in others. You’ve fallen in love with that boy, and you’re not going to let anything or anyone interfere. Where he goes, you go. I understand that. But you’re my daughter, and I’m not willing to jeopardize our relationship again. So I’m giving you the chance to prove me wrong about him.”
I study her with a certain mistrust. “What is this? Some sort of weird reverse psychology technique? Are you pretending to host a family dinner, when the only real purpose will be to analyze his every move and wait for him to screw up so you can show me how unsuitable he is?”
“No reverse psychology. Just a mother trying to get to know her daughter’s boyfriend a bit better.”
“After the last time you met, when you had zero qualms about calling him a potential serial killer, I don’t know if he wants to see you at all, let alone have dinner with you.”
She clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth, rolling her eyes again. “Oh, come on, let’s not make a big deal out of that. I’m sure that boy’s heard much worse things said about him.”
And precisely as she says these words, I hear a motorcycle pull into the parking lot, about twenty feet away from us. I turn and watch Thomas put both feet on the ground. Leaving the engine running, he pulls up his visor to look in our direction. I nod at him, and he nods back.
“I’ll think about it,” I say, turning my attention back to my mother.
She notices him. They don’t acknowledge each other. But the judgmental expression on her face as she stares at his motorcycle is telling. After what feels like an interminable moment, she turns back to me without letting any emotion show on her face. “Okay, you think about it and talk to him about it. When you’ve made a decision, let me know,” she tells me with a sad smile.
“Okay, I will,” I answer, returning her smile a bit uncertainly and tucking my hair behind my ears, discombobulated by this conversation.
We say our goodbyes a little awkwardly; then I walk toward Thomas, who doesn’t take his eyes off me. Behind me, I hear the sound of my mother’s car door closing and the screech of tires on pavement. When I reach him, Thomas takes off his helmet, puts an arm around my waist, and kisses me. “What’d she want?” he asks, glancing over my shoulder.
“To talk,” I answer with a heavy sigh. “I think she’s trying to reestablish contact with me, in her way.” Admitting it out loud makes it even more ridiculous. “And apparently…she’s been following me these last few days.”
Thomas’s eyes go wide.
“Yup. She really has.” I shake my head in resignation. “And to top it all off, she suggested we have dinner.”
Thomas scrutinizes me carefully. “That’s a good thing, though, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, maybe… I don’t know,” I say, shrugging my shoulders uncertainly. “She wants you to come too.”
His head snaps back in surprise. “Me?”
“You don’t have to come. I didn’t confirm anything yet; I just told her I’d think about it. But I think that’s plenty for today, I still have two classes and basketball game to cheer during,” I finish with a much more serene vibe, which earns me a smile from him. I put on the helmet he hands me, climb onto the seat, and we head for campus. Me to my philosophy class, Thomas to an extra pregame training that gets him out of the day’s classes.
***
“In previous classes, we’ve talked about Nietzsche, examining the cardinal points of his philosophical works. Today, we will do a final overview before the upcoming exam. Ready to get started?” Professor Scott asks as he paces the room, tapping his pen against his chin. “Sowe have established that Nietzsche’s philosophy can be grouped into three eras. Can any of you tell me what those are?”
I raise my hand.
“Miss Clark, go ahead.”
“The first is the Schopenhauerian period, which is when Nietzsche wroteThe Birth of Tragedy.In that text, he argues that art and chaos are opposing forces each required for fullness of being. It builds on a Greek theory whereby man is divided into two parts: Apollo, who represents rationality, clarity, order, and harmony, and Dionysus, who embodies irrationality, disorder, a lack of moral limitations, and ecstasy.”
“Good.” He smiles at me. “Anyone else? Yes, down in front.”
While Philip answers by delving into the Enlightenment phase, I am distracted by a familiar voice behind me. I don’t need to turn around to know that it’s Logan. He usually avoids talking to me during Professor Scott’s class, because Thomas is always sitting next to me. But not today.
“Hey, you’re really into Nietzsche, huh?” he whispers to me.
“He definitely knew what he was talking about,” I murmur, turning my head away slightly.
“Really?”
“Absolutely. Haven’t you read any of his work?”
