Page 129 of Damnation
Before I crawl under the covers, I take a hot shower in the hopes of loosening up some of my accumulated tension. Since I know I’m going to have trouble sleeping, I try to listen to some playlists. But it doesn’t help much. My head is just too full of stuff. With a sigh of resignation, I roll over and look out the window.
It’s a full moon, and it’s so beautiful outside that I can’t help but get up out of bed and approach the window to get a closer look at the landscape. The white blanket of snow gleams in the moonlight, even the trees are still snow-clad. The colorful lights on the nearby buildings give off a familiar magical Christmas-y feeling, and in the background, the dark sky is punctuated by millions of stars.
I wonder if my father is looking up at them right now as well. Or if, when he left Corvallis, he left everything to do with me in Corvallis. I close my eyes, feeling a pang in my heart.
Thomas.
The last time I stargazed was with Thomas.
I shouldn’t be thinking about him. I shouldn’t even allow my brain to veer in that direction. I was doing so good today; I managed to keep him out of my head almost all day.
But apparently all I need to do is realize that I haven’t thoughtabout him for memories of him to roar back from my subconscious. The more I try to force myself to banish him, the more he insists upon lingering. It’s a vicious cycle that brings me—and has brought me—only more pain.
I breathe out through my nose before grabbing the curtains and pulling them closed. I don’t have to let him sneak into my head anymore. And if those damned stars make me think about him, then no more stars for me. No more moon. No more anything.
I go back to bed, and finally, exhausted from fighting him from my thoughts, I fall asleep.
***
It’s half past eleven, and I’ve been pacing the room for about forty-five minutes now, staring at my phone the whole time. We don’t have a precise appointment, but I think this is a more than reasonable time to go knocking on my father’s door again. So I gather my courage as well as my coat and head out.
Soon, I find myself walking down his street and ringing his doorbell again. When he answers the door this time, he invites me to come in and sit down, but I tell him that I’d rather go somewhere else.
“Sure, whatever you like,” he says, after some initial surprise. “I’ll just get my keys and wallet and let Bethany know.”
I nod, biting my lip. I’ve been thinking about it a lot this morning, and while it is true that I really wish he invited me in yesterday, I don’t know how comfortable I could have been with Bethany there.
“Where do you want to go?” he asks, shutting the door behind him. From the somewhat stilted way he moves, I can tell he’s still quite nervous.
“Anywhere’ll do.”
“A coffee shop?” he suggests, sticking his hands in his pants pockets.
I nod.
We get into his new pickup and drive to the city center in silence.
Thirty
“So…” he says, sounding tense, as we take a seat at a table inside the coffee shop.
“So…” I echo, looking around to check out the surroundings. It’s a quiet place, not very busy. The smells of coffee, cookies, freshly baked cake, and homemade jams fill the air.
“Your hair looks very nice like that,” he begins, in a tone of voice that I suspect he thinks is casual and relaxed. I get the feeling he wants to break the ice, but it’s going to take a whole lot more to do that, considering that what’s between us is really more of a giant iceberg.
“It’s new,” I answer impassively, touching the choppy gray ends.
“When you were little, you wouldn’t let anyone touch your hair. We had to bend over backward every time just to convince you to let us trim a few inches,” he says with a smile.
“Yeah, I remember.” I also remember that I loved it when he brushed my hair.
My father flags down a waitress, and we order drinks. He insists on also getting something to eat, and we hand back the laminated menus.
“How was your night?” he asks me.
“Fine.”
“And now…?” He sighs. “Are you okay now?”
