Page 98 of Damnation
I don’t hear from him the next day. I call him in the morning when I don’t see him in class. No answer. At lunch, he isn’t in the cafeteria. By afternoon, his prolonged absence is really starting to worry me. But, in the end, I tell myself that he just needs more time. He needs time alone to digest all the horrific things that have happened.
Then that very same night, two hours before the end of my shift at the Marsy, he walks through the doors. It only takes me a second to spot that he is already drunk. Rubbing his temples, he sits down at the bar and orders a glass of Jack Daniel’s. I categorically refuses to serve him. Maggie, although reluctant, can’t do the same. After all, serving customers is our job. We have to do it.
In the end, Thomas stays right there in the same damn spot drinking until he can’t stand up anymore. I have to call Vince to take him home because, even working together, Maggie and I can’t get him to get up from the stool.
The last five days have all passed in the same scummy fashion. He doesn’t show up for any of his classes; the basketball team has to look for a temporary replacement for him; I can’t even find him at the frat house. Yet, I see him every single night at the bar and have to put up with his surliness there.
I’m wiping down the counter, trying to ignore his presence at a nearby table and thinking about finally giving him an ultimatum, when I see Leila come in. She just got back to Corvallis today, but I’ve kept her up to speed on what’s been happening these past few days. Sure enough, she doesn’t seem surprised, just disappointed, when she comes face-to-face with this drunken version of her brother.
I watch as she sits down next to him at the table and starts what begins as a civil conversation but soon escalates into a loud fight in the Marsy’s parking lot. Since I can’t leave with them, I pretend I need a short break. I lock myself in the staff bathroom and give in to the urge to eavesdrop through the small window overlooking the parking lot.
“Is this how you’re gonna be from now on?” Leila’s sharp voice reverberates around the lot.
“Spare me the lecture, JC,” he answers.
“The lecture?” Leila echoes indignantly. After a brief tense silence, I hear her add, “We finally have a chance to start over. Start over for real this time! Dad is gone. Mom welcomed you back home; you’ve found someone who makes you happy. Why do you want to ruin everything?”
My heart batters my rib cage as I await his response. But he doesn’t open up. Lump in my throat, I imagine him drinking the dregs of the Jack Daniel’s he took out there with him.
“Do you hear what I’m saying?” she continues angrily. “If you decide to fuck everything up again, I’m out. I’m done, Thomas. I’m done with all this shit. I sacrificed everything for you, for Mom, to try to fix some of the damage this sick, cursed family of ours has done.And now that I’m so close to finally feeling free…I’m not going to just let everything fall apart! You are my brother, and I love you more than my own life, but I didn’t bury Dad just to watch you turn into him!” From the sound of her footsteps fading into the distance, I gather that she’s leaving.
I put my palms against the cold tile. My mouth hangs open. My heart pounds.Stop her, Thomas. Don’t let her go. Please, don’t let her go.But I hear only the metallic click of a lighter, the crash of glass shattering and a low muttered curse from Thomas. Maggie knocks on the bathroom door, making me jump.
“Hey, you alive in there? You’ve been gone awhile, and the room’s filled up. I need you.”
“Y-yeah, I’m all good. I’ll be right out,” I whisper, pressing myself against the door. I try to gather myself, taking a deep breath. I adjust my pleated skirt and go back to work.
After a few minutes, I see Thomas return as well, looking exhausted. He flops down on what has now become “his” stool at the bar, and when I hear him ask Maggie for another Jack, the disappointment I feel is so overwhelming it makes me want to cry. Trapped inside that tiny bathroom, I hoped with all my heart that his sister’s words would have some effect on him.
He spends the next few minutes drinking and ordering more drinks. Drink and order, just like that. Until, furious and so tired of this, I decide that the time has come to intervene.
“That’s enough,” I say, staring determinedly at him. “That’s the sixth drink you’ve had in less than an hour.” I snatch the bottle out of Maggie’s hands and put it back on the liquor shelf behind me.
He cocks his head and narrows his eyes at me. “You get paid to serve, not to talk. So why don’t you do your fucking job and shut your mouth?”
The lack of respect both chills and disgusts me. I want to be able to get angry and answer him in kind, but I’m at work, and he’s wasted. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in these last few days, it’s that facing off with the drunk version of Thomas is never a good idea. He getsso angry and just rips into me. But that doesn’t mean I have to obey him either.
Feigning courage that I don’t feel, I snatch his glass and lean forward until I’m face-to-face with him. The ends of my pigtails brush against the dark wood of the bar. “If you want to wreck yourself like this, go ahead. But don’t think for a minute that I’m going to let you do it right in front of me.”
His jaw stiffens, and he clenches his fist so hard on the bar that his knuckles go white. We stare at each other in silence: me, determined not to give in; him, blind with rage. It makes it almost impossible to recognize him anymore and almost makes me fear his reaction. Finally, he pulls a few bills out of his jeans pocket and slams them down hard on the bar. “You aren’t saving anybody with your ridiculous fucking morals; you’re just making it all worse.”
He gets shakily off the stool and goes outside without taking a single look back. I find myself staring at the bar’s door and swallowing thickly. I’m so tired. And hurt. And I know it’s the liquor talking, that it’s making him behave like this. And I also know that alcohol can turn even the best person into a heartless monster. But I don’t know how much longer I can take this.
A few seconds later, Maggie puts a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Everything okay?”
I just shake my head, not needing to say anything else. I feel helpless and disheartened.
“You can take a break if you want, I’ll cover you.”
I sniffle, and with a deep breath, I roll my eyes upward and blink my tears away, trying to compose myself. “No, I’ve got it, thanks.”
“Really, though, if you feel the need to take five minutes and get some air, cry, kick the wall, or maybe your boyfriend’s shitty twin there”—she lifts one corner of her mouth—“feel free. I’ve got your back, coworker.”
I grab her hand on my shoulder and squeeze it gratefully. “It’s just…it’s just a rough patch… It’ll pass.” If I keep repeating it to myself,then maybe someday it really will pass. Because it has to, right? That day has to come?
She gives me a smile full of compassion, but there is something darker lurking behind the expression. Like what she really wants to tell me is,No, it’s not going to pass. You need to understand that this is the way things are now.
***
