Chapter 14 #2
Thane’s mouth drops open to argue when I jump in.
“Tell me more about your travels. We barely skimmed the surface last night.”
“Do you want the surface-y itinerary, or the deep parts?” he asks.
I sit in thought for a moment. “Let’s go somewhere in the middle. Not the kiddie pool, but not the deep end either.”
He nods. “Got it. Let’s see how to frame this for a mediocre swimming experience.
Well, you already know I started out in Costa Rica.
I was down on my luck with no clear path ahead, and I felt like maybe I could redeem myself by doing some good in the world, so my dad found a charity for me to work with that built schools and homes. ”
“And did you find the redemption you were after?”
He pauses. “Not really. The harder I tried to prove to myself that I was worthy of goodness, the harder life became. I struggled with feeling like anything I did was enough. Like somehow I could buy the feeling of worthiness with acts of goodwill toward others. It was one of the darkest points in my whole life. Nothing I did made me feel better inside.” The tone in his voice tightens and he takes a steadying breath.
“I was sad inside and out, and nothing but skin and bones. After a year there, I got really sick with malaria, and my dad talked me into coming back to the U.S. to get medical treatment. I didn’t want to come home to New York, so I caught the first plane out and ended up in Key West, Florida. ”
I tuck my feet underneath me in my seat and put my back against the door while Thane speaks. I had no idea he had been sick, and I ache at the thought of him being alone. “Why didn’t you want to come home?”
“Answering that might cross the lines into deeper water,” he says cautiously. “We can put a pin in that one until later.”
I inhale sharply and my heart stops in my chest. “Okay.”
He stayed away because of me.
My eyes sting in the corners and I blink furiously to force away the emotion.
The truth is, I was mad at him for leaving.
Deep down, I still am. But I never stopped to consider the fact that his leaving hurt him as much as it hurt me.
I, at least, had family to lean on. He had no one. No wonder he felt so alone.
I pull off my sunglasses and dab at a tear with my sleeve, trying my best to hide my face from him.
He reaches over from the steering wheel and squeezes the hand on my knee. Our eyes meet and the sincerity in his catches me off guard. The way he comforts me when he’s the one reliving a painful memory makes me doubt my resolve to keep him at arm’s length.
I don’t want to feel anything. I want to be a robot.
An island, completely unaffected by his words and his touch.
But that small gesture breaks through my heart-walls like the Kool-Aid Man.
I’m not even sure that he knows the gravity of what he has done, because after a moment, he puts his hand back on the wheel and continues.
“I spent a few days in the hospital there until I was strong enough to stand, then I went to the docks to look for work.
There, I met a retired Coast Guard captain named Finnegan Hodges running a fishing charter.
He gave me a job on the open ocean, and bought me a beer when I turned twenty-one.
I found a room in town with an old widow, and I fixed things around her house.
In exchange, she gave me a good price for rent.
I really loved the slow life there in Key West, but I still felt restless.
“So, after a big hurricane destroyed Finn’s boat and he had to lay me off, I wandered around in California for a bit—“
“—Where you met the breathing guru?” I interrupt.
He smiles and looks over at me like we share a secret. “Yep! Then after that, I got a job on a cruise ship and ended up in Europe.”
“That sounds like fun. Did you enjoy it?”
“At first, yeah. It was like being perpetually on vacation. I tried to have more fun and make the best of where I was. But I was constantly being hit on by women passengers looking for a vacation fling. They made me feel cheap and disposable, and created a larger void than I hoped they’d fill.
I met some fun friends on the crew, though, and we still stay in contact.
When my contract was up, I signed up for one last job in the Mediterranean and went ashore in Spain. ”
“I have always wanted to go back to Europe,” I say with a sigh. “It’s been so long I almost don’t remember it.”
“I can honestly say that while I was away, I was the most content traveling through Europe. I stopped focusing on myself and started looking outward. When I had bad days, I made it a point to help as many people as possible in the subway, or buy a homeless person a meal—not because I was trying to prove my worth, but because it was all that I had to give. I realized then that I couldn’t make myself feel better by earning it, but the joy in helping others was enough.
I think that’s when I finally started to heal a bit. ”
“Heal from what?”
“Again, that’s deep water stuff.”
I exhale my frustration. I can’t blame anyone but myself for his lack of important details, but I try again anyway.
“Why don’t we ever talk about the accident, Thane?”
“That’s a pretty big jump, assuming I was referring to the accident, Fina.”
“Is it a correct one?”
“Partly, yes.”
“Can we talk about it now?”
His posture slacks in defeat and it’s his turn to avoid eye contact.
“I figured the police report said it all.” His voice shakes under the strain. “I totaled Bash’s car, hurt my best friend almost to the brink of death. The cherry on top was that I disappointed our families and the whole town.”
“People weren’t disappointed in you.”
“Sure they were. I saw the look in their eyes at church and around town. You think I didn’t hear them whisper when I walked by? ‘That’s the kid.’ ‘That’s the one who almost killed Sebastian Spencer.’ I heard it all. I felt it all. It was such a heavy burden for my young shoulders to carry.”
“But you don’t owe anyone anything. Most of them were basically strangers. You didn’t have to leave on their account.”
With a voice flooded with vulnerability, he replies, “I know.” Then he pauses to corral his emotion. “But then one night I was coming over to see you, and I overheard your parents talking in the kitchen…”
He blinks back tears forming in his eyes, and I want to loop my pinky finger into his—just like old times. Instead, I hand him a napkin from the console and lay my hand on his leg. He wipes his face and crumples the napkin up before shoving it in the door handle.
“I’m sorry, this is so stupid. It was years ago and I’m still being a big baby about it,” he says.
“Have you ever talked about this with anyone before?”
“No.”
“Then no matter how much time has passed, you still have unhealed wounds from it. Don’t be ashamed to feel what you need to, Thane. Especially in front of me.”
“Especially in front of you is the hardest part, Fina. I don’t know if I will ever forgive myself for letting you down the way I did.”
I take a deep breath. I know that so much of my own healing from this needs to happen as well, but seeing Thane this raw scares me, and I back off.
“We can put a pin in that conversation too,” I say in my cowardice.
Thane nods, accepting my suggestion. He sits in silence to compose himself. I don’t look over at him so he has as much privacy as I can give him in this tiny car, but I hear him softly cry for a few miles. I grab my own napkin and let a few more tears fall as well.
Healing hurts.
A ding sounds from the dashboard and the low fuel light turns on.
“Crap, I didn’t fill up last time we stopped, did I?”