Twenty-Three #3
“Vanessa… Psst! Vanessa!”
I snap out of my thoughts with a jolt. I turn to the right and see Logan. “What is it?” I ask, confused. His eyes widen, darting between me and the professor, who is also staring at me.
“We’re waiting on you,” Professor Scott says, pushing his glasses further up on the bridge of his nose.
I straighten up in my chair, tuck my hair behind my ears, and clear my throat. “I…um…well, I got distracted. I’m sorry,” I admit, not bothering to beat around the bush.
“Yes, we noticed. I was asking you about your thoughts on fragility as a component of the human condition.”
I blink, discombobulated. Is that the topic of this class? God, I’ve missed everything. “Fragility as a component of the human condition? I–I don’t know.”
“Think about it. In fact, I invite all of you to do the same.” This last bit is addressed to all the students in the classroom. “Develop a thought on the topic, and the next time you are called upon to discuss it, we might get to hear some interesting, diverse points of view. That’s it for today.”
I sigh, tucking my books and notes into my bag and leaving the classroom.
“Hey!” Logan says, falling into step beside me.
“Oh, hey, hi,” I answer, not even looking at him. I’m too busy checking my phone to see if Thomas has called. But of course, he hasn’t.
“I haven’t heard from you since you canceled our meetup. And lately, it seems like you’ve always got your head in the clouds; is everything okay?”
“I’m sorry for blowing you off at the last minute and never following up,” I say, typing out a quick text to Thomas, just to ask how he’s doing.
“Some things came up that I had to prioritize. But I’m still willing to help you study.
” Resigned to the fact that I’m definitely not going to get a reply, I stick the phone back in my bag.
“Actually, what am I saying? I don’t work Thursdays, and I only have two classes in the morning.
We could mee—” I’m interrupted by a shoulder check that makes me stumble back a few steps.
“Oh, so sorry, I didn’t see you there.” Shana snickers mockingly, flanked by a group of her friends. She also throws Logan a dirty look as she passes.
“Why is she so mad at you?” asks Logan, who watches her go by with a troubled look.
I stare at him for a few seconds, not saying a word. “I could ask you the same question,” I say finally.
“Huh?”
“The looks you two give each other…” I answer, adjusting my bag to sit better on my shoulder.
His face twists into a grimace. “What looks are you talking about?”
“Well, the one she gave you just now, for instance. But also that time in the cafeteria, right before she poured that stupid smoothie on me.” I shudder a bit at the memory.
“I’ve only noticed how much she seems to dislike you. She doesn’t seem like a very nice person,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Well, you’re right about that. Not nice at all. But are you sure that’s all there is to it?”
He gives me a serious look. “Of course I am. People like her don’t pay attention to people like me,” he answers. But something behind me seems to have caught his attention. I start to turn, but then he speaks again: “Anyway, I have to go. I’ll be waiting for your call about Thursday.”
“Oh, yeah, okay…see you—”
He leaves abruptly before I even have the chance to finish saying goodbye. What’s going on with him? Confused, I’m still watching him walk away when two large hands grasp my shoulders, startling me.
“Little Gem, weren’t you told to stay away from that guy?”
I sigh, rolling my eyes and turn to face Vince. “Are you still on about that? Until I get a valid reason to end a relationship, I’m not going to do it. Do you know something I don’t? If so, I’m all ears. But if not, let’s just leave it alone.”
“Let’s just leave it alone,” Vince grumbles, his mouth twisting.
Just like I thought.
Huffing, I start walking down the hallway, heading outside, and he follows along behind me. “Did you get any sleep last night? You look worn out,” he asks me.
I glance at him and shake my head. “I finally shut my eyes about twenty minutes before my alarm went off. I have a splitting headache.”
“How is he?” he asks, sadness in his voice, as he holds the door open so I can exit.
“Not good,” I answer with a sigh. “He doesn’t go to practice anymore; he’s always drunk and out of control. I never hear from him, and he doesn’t want to be found.”
“He did just lose his father. I’d fall apart too. We should give him some time. I’m sure he’ll get better.”
“Do you really believe that?” My voice reflects my mood: low, defeated, disillusioned.
“Do you not?” he answers, sounding sorry. But it’s clear that Vince doesn’t know much about Thomas’s past; he can’t imagine how complicated the situation really is. If he could, maybe he would understand my beaten-down attitude.
I shrug, but our conversation is interrupted by my phone, and my heart nearly leaps out of my chest. When I see my mother’s name of the screen, however, I deflate like a balloon. I gesture to Vince that I need to go and take the call.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Hello to you too. Don’t sound so excited; I’m just your mother for goodness’ sake.” She’s trying to be funny, but right now, a Jim Carrey marathon couldn’t make me smile.
“Sorry, this isn’t a great time,” I explain, walking toward my dorm.
“Why? Did something happen?” she asks, her voice going shrill—a sure sign that she’s getting agitated.
“No, Mom, everything’s fine. Don’t worry.” I am once again forced to lie to my mother. “What did you want to tell me?”
“I was just calling to let you know that I got a reservation at Maple Garden for this Friday at eight.”
I stop in the middle of the sidewalk. “Sorry, didn’t we agree that I would call you when I decided on a date?”
“Yes, sweetheart, that’s what we agreed. But then I never heard from you…again. And you know, if the mountain won’t come to Esther White, Esther White will go to the mountain. Don’t be mad; it’s just dinner.”
God, my mother and her pathological need for control. She couldn’t have chosen a worse time for this.
“Okay, but know that there’s a good chance Thomas won’t be there. But I guess that won’t be much of a problem for you anyway.”
“Why wouldn’t he be there?”
Well, let’s see…because he trashed his mother’s house, showered his father’s coffin with whiskey during the man’s funeral, got into a huge fight with his sister, and has been perpetually drunk for the past five days.
Obviously, I can’t say any of that, because my mother would literally lose her mind, and within five seconds, she’d have called every rehab facility in the city to get him immediately committed.
And, honestly I kinda wonder if I shouldn’t actually let her do it.
Thomas is sinking into a spiral of self-destruction that is seriously starting to worry me.
“Because…” I narrow my eyes, pressing my fingers into my forehead as I try to come up with a plausible excuse to give her.
Knowing her, the instant she finds out what kind of man his father was, she’ll start passing judgment on the whole Collins family, sticking her nose in where it doesn’t belong. And so, once again, I have to lie.
“The game is on Friday; it could go long…”
“That’s not a problem. The table was booked for eight, but we can wait for him. I would really like it if he could be there. If I want to start over on the right foot, I suppose I should at least apologize to him.”
I raise my eyebrows in disbelief. “You want to apologize to him?”
“Do you find that so strange?”
“Yeah, Mom. You…you never apologize to anyone.”
“Well, I don’t have an excuse this time. I treated the boy poorly before I even knew him. I’m not going to guarantee that this dinner will change my mind about him, because a mother senses things sometimes before she sees them happen, but I can at least give him the benefit of the doubt.”
“Wow…” I manage in a shocked whisper. I find it just a bit surreal that she’s decided to give Thomas a second chance when he’s at his absolute worst.
“So I’ll see you Friday, then?”
“Okay. See you on Friday,” I answer, having no other ways to deflect her.
As I end the call, my thoughts inevitably go to him. As much as he’s hurting and enraging me, my only real desire is to be close to him. I can’t just abandon him without first trying as hard as I can. And that’s why I decide to change direction and head for his dorm.
Larry lets me in, but when I ask him if Thomas is in his room, his only response is a shrug. I decide to give it a shot anyway. Before opening his door, I take a deep breath, preparing myself for the worst.
Carefully, I put my hand on the doorknob and slowly turn it. Inside, the room is shrouded in darkness. All the lights are off, the blinds are shut, and the smell of alcohol mixed with smoke is overwhelming. My face contorts into a queasy grimace.
I shut the door behind me and blink repeatedly, trying to adjust my eyes to the darkness.
There’s nothing to suggest that he’s here, except that I can hear heavy breathing.
I get my phone out of my jeans and turn on the flashlight app.
Clumsy as I am, I’d end up on the floor in less than two seconds without it.
I point the light in the direction of the bed and see him stretched out there, unkempt, one leg dangling off the mattress.
“What the fuck, Larry? Get out of here, you dick!” Thomas sputters, throwing his hand over his face.
“Relax, it’s just me,” I say cautiously, turning the light away so it won’t bother him.
He raises his head a little, brushing hair out of his eyes, and gives me a confused look. “What do you want?” he asks in a drowsy voice. But he’s not as hostile as I feared. This encourages me to get closer. I sit on the side of the bed and give him a concerned look.
“I came to see how you are.”
He tries to sit up but then collapses back down, emitting an angry grunt. “Awesome.”