Page 94 of Damnation
“Vanessa, do you like sweets? Leila and I made an apple pie thisafternoon,” Lauren tells me as she clears the table with her daughter’s help.
I dab the corners of my mouth with a napkin and nod. “I love pie. When I was little my grandmother used to make this gingerbread crust that went with all kinds of pie.”
“I’ve never tried a gingerbread crust, but it sounds appealing,” she replies with a sweet voice and genuine smile.
“Oh, you absolutely have to try it; it’s probably the best thing on the face of the earth!” I answer with an enthusiasm that makes Thomas chuckle.
“Maybe next time we could all make one together?” his mother offers, looking at her son and me with hope in her eyes, the same hope that is shining in Leila’s face.
“Of course, I’d love to,” I answer, looking to my boyfriend and waiting for his response. When Thomas realizes that all the attention is on him, he shrugs and sits up straighter in his chair. “I don’t make pies.” His mother bows her head slightly, but then he adds in a more conciliatory tone, “At most, I’ll eat them.”
“Great!” Lauren exclaims, trying to contain the enthusiasm that beams from her face. Leila silently thanks her brother with a smile.
After taking all the dirty dishes to the kitchen, Thomas’s mother returns to the dining room and places a glass cake stand with the pie on top in the center of the table.
“It looks marvelous,” I exclaim sincerely.
Leila cuts slices and plates them while Lauren hands them to us. As she stretches out her arm to pass me a plate, the sleeve of her shirt rises a few inches and reveals a bruise just above her wrist. Confronted by the angry purple mark, I feel my stomach clench, and I freeze as I realize that I’m not the only one who has noticed. Thomas’s gaze is also fastened on that area. His expression shifts radically in the space of a second. Before Lauren can pull her arm back, he’s grabbing it abruptly. The plate he was holding slams down on the table, and with a jerk, Thomas lifts Lauren’s sleeve up to her elbow. I put a hand over my mouth, horrified by the bruising not just on her wrist but up her entireforearm. Lauren pales with the expression of someone who knows that a catastrophe is about to unfold. Leila instinctively gets to her feet while I remain paralyzed in my seat.
“What are those?” Thomas asks in a chill-inducing voice.
His mother tugs her sleeve back down with shaky fingers. “I–It’s nothing… It’s j-just…”
“It’snothing?” Thomas pounds his fist against the table, knocking over some glasses. I spring back, pushing away from him. My heart is pumping in my throat at light speed. My legs are trembling. Leila appears by my side and takes my arm, just as scared as I am.
Suddenly, Thomas starts tearing around the room from one side to the other, throwing open all the cabinets, apparently looking for something. I realize what he’s searching for only after he gets to the kitchen and pulls several liquor bottles out from the under-sink cupboard. Some are full, some half empty and hidden away under there.
“Christ, I can’t believe this. Not a fucking thing has changed; it’s business as usual!” he yells, hurling one of the glass bottles at the floor. Immediately, he shatters another one against the table in front of him. Then a third on the wall to his right, making a deafening sound. And then another and another and another and another until his mother is begging him to stop with tears in her eyes. Leila tightens her grip on my arm and buries her face in my shoulder. I can feel her flinch every time Thomas smashes another bottle. I squeeze my eyes shut, as though this small gesture will somehow be enough to stop this madness. But of course it doesn’t work. Thomas is a loose cannon.
“Stop, please,” his sister begs. “You’re scaring me.” Her voice breaks into convulsive sobs. I squeeze her tighter, trying to offer her some reassurance, but I’m just as frightened as she is.
When he’s finished smashing every bottle to smithereens, he looks around, panting. The veins in his neck are throbbing, and his eyes are alight with rage. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and, with a menacing look on his face, advances on his mother. “Tell me where he is.”
She shakes her head, clasping her hands to her chest. Her lower lipis quivering. “I’m not going to let you ruin your life this way.”
“Either you tell me where he is, or I will search every fucking hospital in this city until I find him and kill him with my bare hands.” Fury contorts his face, making him almost unrecognizable. His mother is shaking her head vehemently, sobs wracking her entire body as tears pour down her cheeks.
“Okay, then. I’ll find him myself.” Thomas stalks away angrily, not caring at all about us. He grabs his jacket off the back of the sofa and leaves, slamming the door loudly.
For a moment, we all just stand there frozen, staring in shock at the glass scattered all over the floor. Then Lauren slumps to the ground and starts picking up pieces, unable to control the tremor in her hands.
“I–I’m so sorry, Vanessa. This is humiliating,” she says, her voice shaking as she wipes away her tears.
“Don’t…don’t worry…” I’m about to get down and start picking up the shards of glass along with her, but Leila begs to me to go after Thomas and stop him. I feel stupefied, like I’m trapped in a nightmare. Everything feels surreal to me. One moment, we were all talking peacefully, and the next, all hell was breaking loose. It doesn’t take much to bring me to my senses, though, just the thought of Thomas driving off with the express purpose of finding his father. I leap up and run out the door.
“Thomas, wait!” He’s just a few steps away from the car. If he gets there before I get to him, it’s all over. I run as fast as I can, and panting heavily with my heart racing, I throw myself between him and door, putting my palms on his chest just before he reaches the handle.
“Get out of the way,” he hisses through clenched teeth.
“No. You’re about to make a huge mistake!”
“A mistake? A mistake?” he shouts even louder. “Even when he is dying, he can’t help but put his fucking hands on her!” He slams his hand down on the roof a few inches from my face, making a dull thud. I jolt, intimidated. He must have noticed my reaction because I can see the shame in his eyes, but he can’t control himself right now. “I’m not going to tell you again: Get out of the way.”
I remain immovable. He gives me a hard look.
“Don’t look at me like that. You don’t scare me,” I lie, pretending to be much bolder than I am. Because the truth is, while a large part of me knows that Thomas would never hurt me, I cannot deny the existence of another smaller part that is, right at this moment, feeling a little afraid.
Thomas narrows his eyes to slits, bringing his face close to mine. “There are a million different ways I could hurt you without ever laying a finger on you. So, for your own sake, go away.”
