Chapter 9 #2
She’d been sitting on her front porch steps peeling an orange when he was walking home after football practice, his gear bag slung over his shoulder in a way that he carried the bag in front of him.
When he saw her, he crossed the lawn her mom had stopped watering after her dad moved out, the dried grass blades cracking under his Pumas.
He dropped his bag on the ground as if it weighed a ton and sat beside her on the top step.
His hair was damp and plastered to his forehead and he smelled ripe like a guys’ locker room.
She asked him why he was walking home early.
Practice went on for another hour. She didn’t know why he opened up to her in that moment.
Maybe it was because he’d listened to her complain about her dad ruining their family.
Or maybe it was because she offered him half her orange, which he took and greedily slurped up the slices.
But he told her he wasn’t feeling hot. He thought he was coming down with something, at least that was what he’d told his coaches.
Truth was, his shoulder pads were chafing his back.
He then confided that his parents weren’t thrilled James didn’t have any interest in the family business.
They didn’t have proof, but suspected he was still painting.
They didn’t like his relationship with Aimee and felt he spent too much time with her at the Tierneys’.
Thomas said he told his parents they should just let James do what he wanted.
He’d get art and Aimee out of his system.
But Nadia knew Thomas. He would have defended his brother, protecting him by standing up to their parents.
Edgar hadn’t appreciated Thomas’s candor, and when Nadia asked what his dad did, Thomas admitted he smacked him around a bit.
“How much?” Nadia dared to ask.
Thomas had leaned forward and gestured for her to look at his back. She carefully lifted his shirt and was met with five angry, red welts. It was a struggle not to cry at the sight of them.
Nadia was a hugger. Thomas had needed a hug, but she’d only hurt his back like the shoulder pads had. Instead, she leaned her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she said, giving him another orange slice.
“Me too.” He’d taken a bite of the slice and offered her the rest.
“We’ll wait for you in the car,” Nick said to Nadia, bringing her back to where she and Thomas now stood in the cemetery.
Nadia didn’t answer, afraid her voice would give her away.
Present Thomas was merging with past Thomas and she was feeling an uncomfortable mix of emotions that weren’t necessarily welcomed.
Want and guilt tangled together until she couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.
“Do you mind taking me home first?” Aimee asked, her words fading as they continued walking.
“You don’t want to go to the reception?” Kristen asked. Nadia pictured Aimee shaking her head because she heard Kristen say, “Then I don’t want to go either.”
Soon enough, it was just her and Thomas again.
He released her, his arms lowering to his sides.
But before he did, he briefly, and not even for a full second, dipped his face into the crook of her neck, his fingers gently massaging her nape.
Nadia frowned because the gesture felt oddly comforting in a possessive sort of way, nudging that old pull she’d always felt toward him awake.
That magnetic, maddening thing she’d never been able to define.
The gesture didn’t bother her. It was how willingly she leaned into it.
He stepped back from her and she folded her arms. The mask of indifference was back on his face. “You okay?” he asked, void of emotion.
She was about to snap that she was fine, until she realized what he was really asking. Would she be able to ride along with Nick, Kristen, and Aimee and not say anything? Could he confidently trust her to keep quiet?
She had lain awake all night after leaving the funeral home to pick up Aimee for dinner at Kristen and Nick’s. She ended up leaving early, complaining she needed sleep, but she didn’t get any. She was exhausted and irritable. She told him the truth.
“No, I’m not. I’m miserable, Tom. I’m physically ill from all the pretending and lying I’ve done today.
It’s ripping me apart. Here I am acting like everyone expects, saying what everyone wants to hear, but underneath it all, I’m bleeding out.
My best friend lost the love of her life and I’m hating on myself because I can end her suffering like that.
” She snapped her fingers in his face and he opened his mouth to interrupt.
“I know. I promised I wouldn’t say anything.
But you need to know that I’m gutted, just gutted.
And I can’t tell a soul why I feel like this. ”
“You can tell me.”
“You did this to me.” She jabbed his chest.
“Welcome to my nightmare.”
“Fuck you. I’m so angry with you right now I can’t speak. I can barely stand the sight of you.”
There was an infinitesimal drop to his shoulders. “You know I’d trade places with him in a heartbeat if I could.”
Her breath left her.
Therein lay the crux of her dilemma. Thomas would.
He’d sacrifice himself if it meant bringing James home.
He’d do it if it meant they’d all be safe.
It was the primary reason why, as much as being deceitful pained her—as torturous as withholding vital information from Aimee was—she wouldn’t tell a soul that James was still alive.
Because she couldn’t contemplate a world without Thomas in it.
Either way, she accepted that she was destined to be lonely. For the rest of her life, for as long as she held on to this knowledge, she’d always be forced to choose between Aimee and Thomas. She’d always keep herself removed from Aimee.
Sunday brunches, girls’ nights out, playing auntie to Aimee’s children. Growing old alongside each other. The future she’d imagined with her friend… It dissolved like smoke.
She turned to meet up with Nick and her friends.
“What are you going to do?”
She didn’t miss the subtle threat in his tone. Really, she’d love to see what exactly he’d do to her to ensure her silence. But not today.
She turned back to him and threw out her arms. “Drink, Thomas. I’m going to get fucking wasted.”
And she did. Until she crashed on Aimee’s couch that night, she blended batch after batch of margaritas. Aimee and Kristen drank to drown their sorrows, to reminisce and remember James.
Nadia drank to forget.