Page 93 of Damnation
“Well, it’s hardly a secret,” Leila says nonchalantly, sipping her water.
“What? Your inability to mind your own business?”
She sticks her tongue out at him while their mother gives them both a soft look. As if she missed this everyday normal interaction more than anything in the world.
***
When Lauren tells us that the stew will be ready soon, Leila and I start setting the dark wood table in the dining room. Every now and then, I peer out of the corner of my eye into the kitchen. Thomas is still sitting there, on the stool with elbows propped up on the kitchen island. He’s shaking his foot with an anxious look on his face as he continues to glance around the room. His mother is with him, and she’s talking to him, but I’m too far away to hear what they’re saying. Thomas nods acouple of times, drumming his fingers frenetically on the surface of the island, but after a few exchanges, he finally looks at her and responds with a hint of a smile.
Leila and I observe them talking more easily and decide not to interrupt, giving them space to find each other again.
“How are you? I mean, what’s the situation with your father right now? Was he able to ask for your forgiveness before he was hospitalized?” As I talk, I carefully fold the napkins and tuck them under the cutlery.
“When I got here, Dad was in a bad way. Acute bronchopneumonia is hard on a body, but that didn’t stop him from treating me like shit.” Leila lets out a self-deprecating laugh, surprising me. “You know, when our uncle called to tell me about his illness and said he wanted to bring the family back together and redeem himself…I almost bought it. I really should’ve known better,” she says, reaching around me to put the plates down next to the napkins. “It was only later, once I got here, that I realized it wasn’t my father who asked us here; it was my mother. She was the one who wanted us to come. She was the one who was hoping to reunite us in some way, and when I really think about it, it’s for the best that Thomas decided to stay in Corvallis. I don’t know what would have happened otherwise.”
“Why did you stay? You could have called us anytime, and we would have come and gotten you.”
She shrugs, tucking her bobbed black hair behind her ears. “I know, but I didn’t want to leave my mother alone with him. It hasn’t been easy this last year and a half, turning my back on her. I always had a good relationship with her, and deciding to leave was painful. But I couldn’t leave Thomas by himself, not after what he’d gone through in the past few years. And the few times I’ve heard from her since we left, she assured me that Dad had stopped hurting her. But now more than ever, I’m betting she was lying to me.”
“What makes you think that?” I ask, instantly alarmed.
“When I got here, she had bruises on her arms. I asked her how she’d gotten them, and she obviously made something up about hershopping bags being too heavy a few days earlier.”
My eyes go wide with fear. “I can’t believe it, even now at the end of his life…”
Leila gestures for me to speak softly, putting her index finger against her lips and glancing at the kitchen.
“Do you really think he did it?” I ask finally.
“I can spot my mother’s lies. I’ve been doing everything that I can to get her to tell the truth ever since Dad was hospitalized. But years and years of living under threat has warped her. She was terrified to talk to even me about it.”
Instinctively I turn to look from Lauren to Thomas, who seems to have found some harmony with her. I wonder what would happen if Thomas found out. “We should do something; he can’t—”
“Vanessa,” she interrupts me, her eyebrows drawing together. For an almost imperceptible moment, it seems that I can see Thomas’s cold stare in his sister’s eyes. “You have to face reality. My mother wouldn’t admit what’s happening to her even under torture. But suppose that she did; what would it do? Do you really think he’d be sent to prison to live out his final days behind bars?”
“Yes!” I answer with even more conviction. This man needs to pay for all the evil he’s done and continues to do. He can’t just get away with it all.
“No, he wouldn’t. My father has the entire Portland police department behind him. They worship him, and after”—she heaves a sigh, rubbing her face—“after we lost my brother, it just made everything worse. Everyone sees him as this poor man who lost his son and then watched his life crumble in his hands. He turned to the bottle, then he got sick, and his good little wifey never stopped taking care of him, not even for a moment.She must love him so much…that’s what everyone in this city thinks. They have no idea who my father really is. Do you think any of them would be willing to believe the truth?
“But there’s proof!” I manage, beside myself with rage. “There were marks, and your brother told me that his friend Ryan knowseverything; he could testify—”
“Ryan has a criminal record, Vanessa. His family is so screwed up that, in the eyes of the law, his testimony would be less than worthless. As for my mother, sure, she had bruises. But in all these years, she’s never filed any charges. She stayed with him. So many women stay with their abusers because they get so annihilated by fear that they end up unable to leave. I’m sorry to disillusion you here, but where I come from, you learn pretty quick that the bad guys don’t always get what’s coming to them.”
I lapse into a furious silence. Furious at the resignation I feel from her. Furious because this is one of the biggest injustices I’ve ever personally witnessed. But above all else, I’m furious because I know that she’s telling me the truth.
Our conversation ends when Thomas and his mother join us in the dining room. Lauren’s carrying a large pot that produces the delicious aroma of meat, carrots, and potatoes while Thomas has a basket of rye toast. It’s a shame that my appetite has completely vanished after the conversation with Leila. I try not to look too unsettled as Lauren invites me to sit. I’m doing my best not to arouse suspicion, but Thomas knows me too well for that, and he immediately realizes something is wrong. When I sit down next to him, he puts a hand on my thigh and leans close to my ear, whispering, “Is everything okay?”
For a moment, I have no idea what to say.
Leila, sitting across from us next to her mother, begs me with her eyes to keep quiet. So I swallow hard, and putting on a polite smile, I nod.
He frowns, unconvinced. “You sure?”
I put hand over his and murmur, “Very sure. Are you okay?”
He nods, still looking doubtfully at me. Then he pulls back to take a sip of his water.
Dinner proceeds to go off without a hitch, mostly thanks to Leila’s chatter. We talk about school and about what we’d like to do in the future. Lauren asks about my family, but the answers I give are terse and dry.
