Page 95 of Damnation
“Sorry, Thomas, but I’m not going to let you do it this time. I’m not going to let you push me away again…get rid of me. I will not allow you to get in this car and go do something that will cost you your life. So you can just forget about that. You brought me all the way here. You wanted me with you because, deep down, you were afraid that you were going to need someone’s help. So insult me if you want. Try to scare me. Punch the car, yell, and curse all you like; I can handle it. I can handle the worst of you. But know that I’m not moving from this spot, and neither are you.” I take a deep breath and loosen the fists I didn’t even realize I had clenched at my sides. I watch his chest rise and fall in agitated pants. We stare at each other in a silence heavy with tension. It’s like we’re in a competition to see who can be the most ballsy and immovable. First one to give in loses. But we are stubborn and proud in the exact same way. And there won’t be a winner or a loser in this competition. Just two broken people trying, in their own ways, to fix each other.
After a few seconds that nonetheless feel endless, Thomas grinds his teeth. He slowly draws closer to my face, saying, “You’re a fool.”
I blink several times, surprised not by the insult but rather by the tone of his voice, which isn’t dripping with venom the way it usually does when he gets angry. Instead, what I’m actually hearing is a hidden well of gratitude. I lift my chin and square my shoulders proudly. “If my foolishness keeps you from getting into this car, then I’m happy to be a fool.”
Thomas gives up in the face of my determination. He shuts his eyes and places his hands down on the car on either side of my head,trapping me between him and the metal. Then he hangs his head in exhaustion. “I thought…I thought that getting out of here would appease some of his anger. That me being gone might help him calm down in some way. Instead, all I did was give him the freedom to do it without anyone getting in the way. Because I wasn’t there to defend her, to keep him from hurting her again. I ran away and left her here alone to face a beast that couldn’t be tamed.”
“It’s not your fault, Thomas.” My voice is just a whisper.
He breathes deeply, and I can see that he’s slowly coming back to himself. “I screwed up in there.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“I lost control and put you in the position of having to suffer this part of me again.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I murmur again under my breath, holding his face in my hands to reassure him. “You can make it right. Let’s go back inside and talk to her…”
He shakes his head and then rests his forehead against mine. “I don’t want to go back in there. I want to go find him.”
“Thomas, please…”
He backs away from me and sits down on the ground, leaning back against the wheel of the car with one leg extended out before him, the other bent up. He takes the pack of Marlboros out of his jacket and puts one in his mouth. He allows himself a few drags before speaking again.
“Maybe my uncle wasn’t completely wrong. Maybe, if I talked to him, if I faced him once and for all, I could get out from under this weight that is pressing down on my chest, constantly crushing me…”
“You really want to talk to him?” I take a seat next to him, skeptical.
He nods and keeps his eyes fixed on the house as he exhales cigarette smoke. “I want to tell him what a giant piece of shit he is and has always been, and shout in his fucking face what a complete and total failure he was. I want to do it now when he can’t fight back, when he can’t escape.”
I consider this for a few seconds. “If that will give you somepeace, I can let you do it, but only on one condition: I’m coming with you.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
He gives a frustrated sigh as he runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t need a babysitter, Ness.”
“I don’t trust the person you become when you’re angry, Thomas. And that man always seems to bring out the worst in you. There’s no way I’m letting you go alone.”
We stare fixedly at one another for a moment until, with a wave of his hand, he surrenders. “Whatever you want.”
While Thomas calls his uncle to get the name of the hospital, I text Leila to tell her everything that happened and try to reassure her.
***
As soon as we arrive at the hospital, the sterile, chemical smell overwhelms me, leaving behind an oppressive sensation. I rub my arms, trying to get rid of the gooseflesh.
Thomas heads straight for reception, where we find a nurse occupied on the phone. “I’m looking for Joe Collins. I know he was admitted here a few days ago,” Thomas says as soon as the woman hangs up.
“And you are?” she asks, pushing her circular glasses down to the tip of her nose.
“His son,” he answers through gritted teeth.
“Just a minute.” The nurse starts typing something on her keyboard, glancing over at the monitor, and after a few seconds, she informs us, “Mr. Collins is in the ICU, in the east wing. Continue along corridor B, and then take a right.”
We follow the nurse’s directions until we reach a large waiting room with muted green walls, lit by irritating fluorescent lights. Some doctors in scrubs enter and exit through a sliding door. A nurse carrying some medical records asks us what we’re doing there. Thomas explains that he came to see his father, and she tells us that only immediate family members can go inside and for no longer than ten minutes becausevisiting hours ended an hour ago.
Thomas nods, but when she leaves, he just stands still, unsettled, watching the doors as they open and close. All the boldness that has driven him this far now appears to be faltering. I take his hand, entwining our fingers, and with my free hand, I touch his cheek. “Are you sure this is what you want to do?”
