Page 87 of Damnation
“I’m just passing through. I didn’t know you were working here,” he continues, turning to Miranda.
“Is that your polite way of telling me to get out of your hair?” she whispers teasingly, putting one hand on her hip and using the other to pat Thomas’s shoulder.
“No, of course not. It’s just that the last time we saw each other, you were a cocktail waitress at Star’s Motel; what happened in the meantime?”
“Ah, the usual stuff, son. Gerald had a little problem with the tax man and, less than a week later, we found ourselves out on our asses. That sweetheart Nolan put in a good word for me with Joseph, so now I’m here. Fortunately, Gerald got hired on as a garbage collector. Not so bad, eh?” She grins ironically, and then, when she turns in my direction, she gives a little gasp. “And who might this lovely lady be?”
“Vanessa. It’s nice to meet you.” I smile at her, holding out my hand.
“A beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” She winks at me. “So tell me, are you two here…together?” she asks slyly, nudging Thomas’s shoulder.
I give him an uncertain look, waiting for him to say something but ready, in my heart, to be disappointed. To my enormous relief, thatdoesn’t happen. With his eyes on mine and his hand stroking his stubbly chin, Thomas nods decisively.
“You don’t say…” Miranda exclaims, incredulous. “I take it you finally got your head on straight.” Then, she turns to me. “Do you know, I’ve known this boy since he was six years old? I watched him grow up alongside my son, the two of them getting into all sorts of things together.” She takes Thomas’s cheek between her thumb and forefinger, pinching it as though he were still a little kid. “That reminds me, does Ryan know you’re here?”
He shakes his head, folds his arms over his chest, and slides down in his chair a bit, spreading his legs slightly. “Not unless my big-mouth sister told him.”
“Come by and see him if you can. I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you again. He won’t say it, but he misses you. We can all see it” she admits with an air of melancholy and a concerned look on her face.
“I will.” He smiles gratefully at her, covering her hand on his shoulder with his own.
“You heard about your old man, didn’t you?” Miranda finally asks him.
Thomas stiffens, and his jaw tightens. He nods, with a darkened downward gaze.
She sighs, tightening her grip on his shoulder. “I’m glad to see you here. Finally back home, with your people… The neighborhood wasn’t the same without you, big fella. You never should have left.”
“It was necessary,” he hisses through clenched teeth. He’s doing everything he can not to be rude right now, and it’s clear he’s only putting forth this effort for her. He respects her. He doesn’t want to risk hurting her feelings. I wonder if Miranda knows all the horrible things Thomas’s father did.
“I understand, son, I understand. Just, this time, please do one thing: Come say goodbye before you leave. Don’t just disappear into thin air.”
He promises her that he will. Then we order our lunches and eat them in near silence.
After we finish eating, we take a walk around the neighborhood. Thomas is continuing to stall. Not that I blame him; I myself am starting to feel a lump in my throat at the idea that, sooner or later, we are going to walk into the house he ran away from and never looked back.
After wandering around aimlessly for a while, we sit down on a low wall near a fountain shaped like a sailboat. We linger there, resting in the quiet and staring into space. Thomas, with a blank look on his face, starts smoking a cigarette. The wind begins to pick up as the sun sets, coloring the river in the distance with shades of red. It’s now five in the afternoon.
I decide to speak. “Thomas…”
“Not yet,” he cuts in, already knowing where I’m going with this.
“It’s starting to get late. If not now, then when?” I try to say it gently.
“When I feel like it.”
“What’s holding you back? What are you afraid will happen there?” I caress his cheek tenderly, trying to conceal my own anguish. “I’m here for you, so talk to me.”
He scrutinizes me carefully, his features tense. Almost like he’s annoyed by my care for him.
“I’m not afraid of anything.” He moves my hand away from his face and hops down from the wall. He stands in front of me and, grabbing my hips, helps me down. “I just don’t feel like going over there, that’s all. Not yet,” he stresses, adamant.
I give up with a sigh, tucking my hair behind my ears even as the wind tosses it into my face. “All right. But on the off chance that you don’t feel like going at all anymore, I really think you should at least tell—”
He presses his index finger to my chapped lips, silencing me.
“I will go to the house, okay? I promise that I will. But I need more time. I need it, Ness.” He pauses for a moment, and his expression grows even more melancholy. Then he rubs a hand over his face, as if to chase the bad thoughts away. “I haven’t seen her in over a year. But for me, it feels like just yesterday. It feels like it was yesterday when hereyes were begging me to just disappear for good. This place is bringing it all back to me. All the things I tried so hard to forget. Do you want to know what I’m really afraid of? Myself. Because ever since we left Corvallis, I’ve had an insane urge to crawl into a bottle and just destroy everything. And the more time passes, the closer I get to that moment, the stronger that urge gets. But I don’t want…I don’t want to fuck it all up. I don’t want to give in to this impulse that is eating me alive. And that’s why I’m telling you that I need more time.”
His confession catches me off guard, leaving me speechless for a moment.
