Page 101 of Damnation
Obviously, I can’t say any of that, because my mother would literally lose her mind, and within five seconds, she’d have called every rehab facility in the city to get him immediately committed. And, honestly I kinda wonder if I shouldn’t actually let her do it. Thomas issinking into a spiral of self-destruction that is seriously starting to worry me.
“Because…” I narrow my eyes, pressing my fingers into my forehead as I try to come up with a plausible excuse to give her. Knowing her, the instant she finds out what kind of man his father was, she’ll start passing judgment on the whole Collins family, sticking her nose in where it doesn’t belong. And so, once again, I have to lie.
“The game is on Friday; it could go long…”
“That’s not a problem. The table was booked for eight, but we can wait for him. I would really like it if he could be there. If I want to start over on the right foot, I suppose I should at least apologize to him.”
I raise my eyebrows in disbelief. “You want to apologize to him?”
“Do you find that so strange?”
“Yeah, Mom. You…you never apologize to anyone.”
“Well, I don’t have an excuse this time. I treated the boy poorly before I even knew him. I’m not going to guarantee that this dinner will change my mind about him, because a mother senses things sometimes before she sees them happen, but I can at least give him the benefit of the doubt.”
“Wow…” I manage in a shocked whisper. I find it just a bit surreal that she’s decided to give Thomas a second chance when he’s at his absolute worst.
“So I’ll see you Friday, then?”
“Okay. See you on Friday,” I answer, having no other ways to deflect her.
As I end the call, my thoughts inevitably go to him. As much as he’s hurting and enraging me, my only real desire is to be close to him. I can’t just abandon him without first trying as hard as I can. And that’s why I decide to change direction and head for his dorm.
Larry lets me in, but when I ask him if Thomas is in his room, his only response is a shrug. I decide to give it a shot anyway. Before opening his door, I take a deep breath, preparing myself for the worst.
Carefully, I put my hand on the doorknob and slowly turn it. Inside, the room is shrouded in darkness. All the lights are off, the blinds areshut, and the smell of alcohol mixed with smoke is overwhelming. My face contorts into a queasy grimace.
I shut the door behind me and blink repeatedly, trying to adjust my eyes to the darkness. There’s nothing to suggest that he’s here, except that I can hear heavy breathing. I get my phone out of my jeans and turn on the flashlight app. Clumsy as I am, I’d end up on the floor in less than two seconds without it.
I point the light in the direction of the bed and see him stretched out there, unkempt, one leg dangling off the mattress.
“What the fuck, Larry? Get out of here, you dick!” Thomas sputters, throwing his hand over his face.
“Relax, it’s just me,” I say cautiously, turning the light away so it won’t bother him.
He raises his head a little, brushing hair out of his eyes, and gives me a confused look. “What do you want?” he asks in a drowsy voice. But he’s not as hostile as I feared. This encourages me to get closer. I sit on the side of the bed and give him a concerned look.
“I came to see how you are.”
He tries to sit up but then collapses back down, emitting an angry grunt. “Awesome.”
The flashlight’s dim glow gives me a peek at the conditions he’s been living in. There’s light enough for me to see the empty bottle of Jack Daniel’s on the nightstand next to the bed and some cigarette butts.
“Don’t start,” he snaps, short and biting.
“Thomas, all this…” I’m about to tell him that it’s wrong, that he’s only hurting himself, and that he’s never going to find peace this way, but I stop myself because I realize that none of it would be any use. Because Thomas never confronts his pain, nor does he allow himself the luxury of sharing it with anyone else. He anesthetizes himself instead. He himself admitted that he abuses anything that’ll give him some fleeting feeling of relief: alcohol, drugs, sex. It’s the only way he knows to cope. And I can choose to walk out that door and leave him forever, or I can stay and try to pull him out of the chaos his head has become.
I stare silently at him, unable to tear my eyes away from thisdefenseless figure who kindles a feeling of infinite sadness in me. And still, all I can think is that I love him. I love him unconditionally. And even though I also hate him for what he’s doing to himself, to me, and to our relationship, I still don’t want to be anywhere but here. Next to him. Because it is precisely when we’re falling into darkness, succumbing to our weaknesses, that we most need someone to hold out their hand and keep us from slipping away. And I want to be that someone for him, now more than ever.
I push off my shoes, lift up the covers, and lie down next to him.
“What the hell are you doing?” he blurts, half irritated, half surprised.
My back is pressed against his warm chest, which moves erratically. It’s the first time we’ve been this close in too long. Even in Portland, he chose to sleep alone on the couch.
“Shut up. I’m going to take care of you whether you like it or not.” I grab his hand and pull his arm over my stomach, interweaving our fingers. “I don’t know what’s going on with you or why you’re suddenly doing everything you can to put me at arm’s length. But I do know that I’m not going to let you do it. I already told you once, I can handle your worst. And if that’s all you can be right now, okay, I accept that. But I’m not leaving.”
I feel his body go rigid, rejecting contact with me. For a moment, I wonder if he has been expecting me to give up the moment things got difficult. Maybe he hasn’t taken my stubbornness into account, or maybe he has even been hoping I’d just stop hanging around.
