Page 96 of Damnation
He turns to look at me. He bites his lip and then brings my hand to his mouth, kissing the knuckles. His eyes catch on the bracelet I’m still wearing around my wrist. He threads his fingers into my hair and pulls me to him, kissing me for a long moment. With my hand on his chest, I can feel his heart beating as rapidly as mine. He caresses my cheek slowly, and the cold steel of his rings makes me shiver. “I’m sure.”
He goes to the sliding door, where a nurse helps him dress from top to bottom in sterile protective gear. Then he pushes a red button to the side of the door, which lets him inside. I wait, a strange feeling of disorientation descending upon me the moment the doors close.
Everything’s going to be okay, Vanessa. It’ll all be okay.
I pace the room, my heart beating faster and faster as I take deep breaths to calm myself down. I jump at every noise and go on alert every time the doctors and nurses enter or exit the ICU. Each time, I try to peer through the doors. I obsessively check my watch; the promised ten minutes have already passed. I wonder what’s going on in there, what Thomas is feeling in the face of this dying monster who took away all his faith in humanity. I’d like to be there in that room with him. To lend him strength, to make him feel like he’s not alone. I’d like to talk to his father myself, tell him that his violence nearly destroyed his son, but underneath all the rubble, Thomas’s heart is still good, and it beats for the people he loves.
It’s been twelve minutes now, and my palms are sweating when the doors of the ICU open to allow two large machines to go through. I take the opportunity to look, and I spot Thomas and his father in the room beyond. My view is restricted by a blue curtain, which covers his father’s body entirely. But I can see that Thomas is leaning over. It seems to me that he’s listening carefully to something his father is whisperingin his ear. Whatever it is, it can’t be good because Thomas’s eyes cut to me with a violence that freezes me in place. He stares at me. And then the fury that I saw on his face just a moment ago gives way to an expression of disorientation. Like he’s just been hit with the weight of a realization that he’s going to have to cope with for the rest of his life.
What is happening? I suddenly feel short of breath, and I don’t know why. The doors close, leaving me without information once again. But it isn’t much longer before Thomas emerges from the doors with heavy steps and a shadow darkening his eyes. He tears his protective gear off furiously and throws it at a receptacle on his right, not caring if it goes in or not. Then, he walks past me without a glance, as though I’m not even there.
“Hey, what happened?” I run to him in a panic, never taking my eyes off of him.
“I have to get out of here; I need a smoke,” he says urgently.
“Thomas, wait! What happened in there? What did you two say to each other?” I grab his shoulders, forcing him to stop and give me his attention, but this just seems to irritate him more. My heart is pounding frantically in my chest, and my breaths are getting shorter and shorter.
“You shouldn’t be here.” His voice is so harsh that I immediately freeze up.
My face falls and I blink, taking a step back. “W-what are you saying? Of course I should be here, I’m here with you,foryou.” I put a hand on his arm, but he pulls away as though repulsed by me.
The muscles in his jaw contract and his face hardens. “That is exactly the point. This is all wrong.”
All wrong?
My hands are shaking and my legs feel suddenly leaden; it feels like I’m not breathing anymore. “What are you talking about?” I answer a few moments later, my voice cracking.
But Thomas doesn’t have time to say anything else because a high-pitched sound from the direction of his father’s room makes both of us whirl around. In less than a second, a whole cadre of doctors carrying a defibrillator and oxygen mask rushes in, snapping out orders. Thomasinstinctively approaches the doors, but a nurse stops him.
“You can’t be here right now.”
“It’s my father in there,” he answers, without a single emotion coloring his voice. He isn’t sad or relieved. Neither upset nor calm. He’s just…empty.
The nurse rests a hand on his shoulder and gives him a compassionate look. “I’m sorry. I guarantee that will do everything we can to save your father’s life, but you have to leave the ward right now.”
Thomas throws the nurse’s hand off his shoulder furiously and spits at her, “I don’t give a shit what you do or don’t do; I just want to know what’s happening.”
“Your father is suffering from acute bronchopneumonia. As soon as you left the room, he went into respiratory crisis—” The nurse stops when she’s called away to join the rest of the team.
Thomas and I stand there, paralyzed, our eyes glued to the closed door. But we can hear the beeps from the monitors out here, and they are becoming more insistent and closer together, mingling with the voices of the doctors. Until, finally, the beep turns into a steady tone.
And then everything stops.
Part Two
Twenty-Three
On the day of Thomas’s father’s funeral, my stomach is in knots, and I can’t stop chewing on my lip. I want to ask Thomas how he’s doing, but it’s obvious that he’s not okay. I want to ask him if he needs something, anything, but I’m afraid he won’t answer me. Ever since he walked out of that hospital room, he’s been cold toward me.
“This is all wrong,” he told me, and the words haven’t stopped echoing in my head ever since. He never brought it up again. I tried, but Thomas wouldn’t allow it. He barely acknowledges me now. And sometimes, I even get the feeling that he’s irritated by my presence. I spent the last two days with Leila and Lauren, while Thomas was always out who knows where and doing who knows what.
I talked with his mother and sister, and did my best to help them with the arrangements. Lauren also finally confided in Leila and me. She told me that, after her children left, she contacted them as seldom as possible to make sure that they didn’t try to return to their hellish home. She always tried to soothe Leila with lies, saying that her husband had stopped raising his hand to her in the hopes of giving her daughter the chance to start a new life in Corvallis. To let her be free the way that Lauren had never been.
It was only when her husband got sick that she gave in to her desperate desire to see her children again. She asked Robert to intercede and convince them to come back with yet another lie. But I can’t find itin my heart to condemn her; the suffering she’s experienced is too vast, too horrendous. She did what she thought was right. She told me about her depressive episodes and about having found the strength to heal in the love she had for her children. And I know that she and Leila are going to do a lot of rebuilding now. Because they both care.
Although none of us particularly felt like going, Lauren asked us to attend the funeral. She doesn’t want to attract attention and cause weird rumors to spread. Leila and I agreed to the charade because now Lauren really does have a chance to start over, free from that monster.
***
