“Okay,” Julia said sympathetically.
Thomas moved to get back into the car.
“Do you mind if I look at them for a little longer?” Julia asked pointing at the stars scattered out above her.
Thomas nodded in assent and she stood below that infinite sky for another moment before returning to the car, where Thomas waited patiently.
* * *
As soon as Lewis spotted his mother pulling to the curb outside Tina’s house, he grabbed his backpack and hurried out the door, forgetting to say goodbye to Tina and the few others who still lingered about her house. Hannah had just opened the car door when Lewis reached the curb and got inside.
“Did you have a good time?” she asked naively.
Lewis felt certain that she knew what he’d been doing. He’d done everything he could to cover the smell, and he tried his hardest to destroy anything else that might be used as evidence against him, but he still felt that his mother knew.
“Yes,” Lewis replied as he fidgeted under her plastic smile.
“What was your friend’s name?” Hannah asked.
Lewis knew she was interrogating him. He thought that he should say Tina so that he wouldn’t get lies mixed up later, but then wondered if she would jump to conclusions if she knew the house belonged to a girl.
“Johnny,” Lewis answered.
“Was Tommy there too?” Hannah probed.
Lewis wanted to make the interrogation stop. He pretended to adjust his seatbelt and looked out the window.
“No,” he finally replied.
“You haven’t spent much time with Tommy lately,” Hannah remarked in a casual tone that could only be meant to entrap him.
“We don’t have a lot of classes together this semester,” Lewis said abruptly. “And he goes by Tom now.”
“Oh yes, you told me that,” Hannah said.
The two of them drove the rest of the way home in what was for Lewis an unbearable silence.
* * *
“So what time is your appointment tomorrow?” Julia asked when she and Thomas got back to the house.
Thomas didn’t want to answer her. He knew he could change the subject, but he felt that truthfulness would somehow be better. “I already went to see that professional,” he said. “The appointment was yesterday.”
“About what?” Julia wondered what could have motivated her brother to lie about something like the time of his appointment, and this made her feel sorry for him. She couldn’t have suppressed the profound empathy she felt for him even if she’d wanted to. Part of her felt obligated to sympathize with him, but the feeling came mostly from a deeper unnamable desire. She sat down on the couch in their living room and motioned for him to sit next to her.
Thomas sat down and Julia listened as he explained his dreams and his visit to the school clinic.
“I’m sorry,” Julia said when he finished. She put her hand on his shoulder but he pulled away.
“I’m sure that I wouldn’t be having these dreams if it weren’t for all of your religious talk,” he said. “You probably believe in devils and demons.”
“I don’t think I do,” Julia answered truthfully. Her brother’s suddenly harsh tone hadn’t affected her in the least.
“How can you not know if you believe something?” Thomas’s voice grew even more cynical, and he scooted further away from his sister.
“We never know what we really believe until we’re forced to act,” Julia said.
“And we find out what we believe based on what we do? Is that what you were going to say? That’s exactly what your devil in my dreams has been trying to convince me of.”
“My devil?”
“You’re the one who might believe in him.”
Julia took a moment to compose herself before speaking. “If there is or ever was a Devil, he isn’t mine or yours or anyone else’s. He’s not ours because we don’t need him anymore. We’ve all learned how to tempt ourselves well enough that we don’t need any outside influence to prompt us to do wrong.” She spoke sympathetically, assured that Thomas could hear the guilty admission in her voice.
“I’m sure that your devil would say the same thing. You know, you sound a lot like the devil I see in my dreams.”
“What are you talking about?” Julia asked.
“I wonder if he’s nothing more than the way my subconscious has been manifesting all of your arguments. He’s been saying a lot of the same things you’ve said. He’s been trying to convince me that if I’m right about there not being an afterlife or a supreme being, then I should just kill myself, and you’ve been saying the same thing, not in those words, but the meaning is the same. But you should know something. The truth is just the opposite. The only reason I haven’t killed myself is because I do believe in my idea. The moment that I believed in your good and evil, moral and immoral, dialectic nonsense is the moment I’ll kill myself. I’m warning you. Don’t try to convince me because I swear if you do I wouldn’t be able to handle it, and I know I’d kill myself then and there.”
“I’m not the one who’s been saying those things. That’s all from your dreams. I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” Julia objected.
“The dreams are representative of you.”
“So you think I’m your devil?”
“No. I think you’re the reason I haven’t been sleeping well. I think you’re the reason I had to go to the doctor. And I know that it’s your fault that I,” Thomas realized that everything he’d said since Julia had offered him a seat next to her had spilled out of his mouth against his will, despite his best efforts to speak comfortingly to his sister. He froze up. Julia stretched out her hand again. She hadn’t wanted to, but she couldn’t hold it back. Thomas pushed her aside and stood up from the couch.
“I’m sorry,” he said. And as the words came out, he had to wonder if he’d apologized because he genuinely regretted what he’d said. He looked at her intently, and neither of them said a word. He apologized again and left the room.
Julia wondered why every conversation they’d shared over the past few days had digressed. She thought about the possibility of it being her fault. “He’s so irrational,” she concluded. She felt that Thomas’s inner turmoil was a just punishment for everything he’d said to her, and the feeling propped up her wounded self-esteem. But in the end pity won out, and she let it swallow up her prideful indignation. Her pity compelled her, and she got up to follow him down the hall. She couldn’t have done anything else if she’d tried. Thomas had closed himself in his room, and she pounded on his door and shouted, “Thomas, it’s okay; we can talk about this. I want to be here for you.”
“I’m sorry,” came Thomas’s voice from behind the closed door. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. I want to, but I can’t. I don’t know why. I’m sorry. Can’t you see that everything’s my fault? Please leave me alone.”
“Maybe you are to blame, but if you are I forgive you. I’ll always forgive you for everything. But it’s my fault too, and if you forgive me we can go on. All it takes is forgiveness. I forgive you. Please open the door.
“Don’t forgive me. You can’t forgive me. There’s no reason for it. I don’t want your forgiveness. Do anything else you want to me, but please don’t say that you forgive me.”
Julia could hear his voice quivering on the other side of the closed door. She reached for the knob and it turned over smoothly in her hand, but she couldn’t push the door open. She wanted to, but she couldn’t. A power that went beyond the physical world of weight and force seemed to exert itself over her body.
“Thomas. Please open the door,” she cried. The pity that had taken root in Julia’s heart swelled up. She fell on her knees in front of his door. “I forgive you because I love you. Don’t you understand that nothing else matters? Please just open the door.”
“Why don’t you open it?” Thomas snarled and then added, “I’m sorry for that too, but don’t forgive me. It doesn’t matter if you forgive me,
because I’ll always do more and more horrible things, and I’ll only need more forgiveness. I can’t make myself do what’s right. None of us can. That’s what I learned from my little experiment.”
“Thomas, please,” Julia pleaded. “How could I not forgive you? You’re my brother and I love you. Try to understand.”
“You can forgive me if you have to, but don’t say that you love me. Not after everything I’ve done to you. You’ve got no right.”
Julia could now hear sobs in her brother’s voice. “I do love you Thomas, and so does Dad, he just doesn’t know how to show it. We all love you but we’ve all forgotten what that means. But I’m here now and I love you, so please come out. I’ll be right here waiting for you when you’re ready. Tomorrow is a new day.”
“You’re right. Tomorrow will be a new day,” Thomas answered.
Julia waited, listening carefully for him to say something else, for the slightest sound, for any sign of hope from behind the closed door. She waited and listened for over an hour, but she never got off her knees. Finally fatigue overtook her and she lay down in front of the door and let her eyelids close in sleep.
* * *
Peter stood at the doorway in silence. His sweaty hand griped the cold metal doorknob while wild, irrational thoughts flew uncontrollably through his mind.
“What if I’m too late? What if he’s already gone?” he wondered. “Then everything would rest on her. But she loves me. If only I needed someone to love me. Maybe that is what I need. But I don’t want her love. I won’t have anything to do with it. Why can’t I want it? Am I really that far gone? No. I’m just like everyone else, except I’m visible from the outside. Deep down I’m no further gone than anyone else. But that means that,” Peter cut his thought short for a moment, but couldn’t stop it altogether.
“Can it be that bleak? But what is love? And if it is what I think it is, why would anyone want it? Yes, she loves me. But nobody really wants love. If I wanted love I would have gone to her. But I didn’t go to her. No, I took from the other one instead, and it’s all because I know she doesn’t love me. And now I’m here because he doesn’t love me either. It’s all the same then. He’s just past this door, but even if I go in and grovel, it won’t change anything. And it might be too late. No, I won’t go in because it can’t change anything. If only I could bring myself to want love I would go to her and she would put everything right. Yes, she’s the only one who can fix any of this. So there’s no point in going through this door.
Peter’s grip loosened. His fingers had been clutching the doorknob so tightly that a sharp pain worked its way through his hand as he forced himself to relinquish his grip.
“You can go in,” a voice said behind him.
The voice startled Peter, and he turned around abruptly. The blonde receptionist, whose name Peter could never quite remember, stood behind him smiling unknowingly.
“I know it’s not normal visiting hours, but I can make an exception in your case,” she said. “I imagine that all of this must be very hard on you.”
Peter could tell that the sympathy in her voice was genuine. If it hadn’t been for the genuineness of her sympathy, he would have politely declined her offer to allow him into the room and walked away. Instead, a sense of panic overtook him, brought on by that simple sympathy.
“He’s lost the ability to communicate, but he’s still coherent to some degree. He sits up all day reading, at least he holds up the book and looks at the pages. Who knows what’s really going on up there? The doctors said that visitors might send him into some sort of fit or delirium, but I’ll let you go in if you want.
Peter looked at the floor and then back at the door.
“Thank you,” he said, and then stepped into the unlit room, not thinking about what waited for him inside.
When Peter turned on the light, Abraham startled awake and made a few low grunting sounds.
“Dad?” Peter said softly. “I came because I had to ask you something.” Even Peter didn’t know if the penance in his voice was genuine. “I need money.”
“Keep falsehood and lies far from me; give me neither poverty nor riches, but give me only my daily bread.” Abraham spoke into the air.
“I need money,” Peter repeated.
“Look,” Abraham said through a fit of coughing.
“Where? Look at what?”
“Look away from me, that I may rejoice again.”
“I know you haven’t lost it. I know you can answer me. I just need some money, some of the money you promised to Julia.”
“Rejoice again,” Abraham said. “Before I depart and am no more.”
“Look at me and talk to me like a man,” Peter said pleadingly.
“Each man is but a breath.”
“I don’t need this. It’s Hannah. She’s killing me with her money, and I need you to,” Peter began, but was cut short by a series of coughs.
“Show me, O Lord, my life’s end and the number of my days; let me know how fleeting is my life.”
Peter could have sworn that the old man’s decaying lips curled into a smile.
“Dad,” he said again speaking slowly and enunciating. “You have to give me money so I don’t have to take anything from Hannah.”
“Each man’s life is but a breath.”
“Say something comforting!” Peter yelled.
“I will watch my ways and,” Abraham didn’t finish. Instead he looked up at Peter with lucid eyes, hesitated a moment and said, “What do you want?”
“Finally,” Peter said sighing. “I want some of your money. I don’t know how much you’ve got, but I know it’s plenty.”
“What do you want?” Abraham repeated.
“I want money. But I only want the money so that I can break ties with her.”
“What do you want?” Abraham asked a third time.
“I want,” Peter stopped to wonder if his father were really addressing him, or if this repetitious question were only another of his incessant ramblings. “How am I supposed to know what I want?”
“Do you love me?” Abraham asked.
“I’m leaving. Do you want me to turn off the light on my way out?”
“Light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not understood it. Men love darkness instead of light because their deeds are evil.”
“I know you can understand what I’m saying. If you loved me you would help me, because what she’s doing is eating away at me bit by bit, just like this sickness is doing to you.” With these words Peter stepped out into the hallway. The blonde receptionist was gone.
Abraham’s voice lingered in the air. “Do you love me? Do you love . . .” Peter let the door shut behind him, cutting off His father’s ramblings.
* * *
Later that night, Thomas opened the door of his room a crack, just enough to see Julia lying on the floor in front of him. In the sliver of light that crept in through the window he could just make out her red puffy cheeks and swollen eyes. He noted the exhausted look on her face, and her disheveled hair, but couldn’t escape noticing something else in that dim light.
He closed the door and went to the desk situated in the back corner of his room and, after brushing aside the pile of books and papers that had accumulated over the past few days, sat down and began to write. The pen glided across the page effortlessly, absorbing Thomas completely in the words that seemed to pour out of him. Outside he could hear his sister stir, and then he heard another sound, muffled by the door, but unmistakable. Still he sat at his desk and wrote, despite his sister’s stifled sobs that seeped in from the hallway.
Chapter 9
When Julia woke up the next morning she still felt emotionally fatigued. Her body ached all over from sleeping on the floor, propped up on Thomas’s door. She shrugged her shoulders and turned her neck to work out the stiffness, and wiped away the mucus that had built up in her tired eyes.
“It’s a new day,” she whispered. Then louder she called out to Th
omas, “It’s a new day. You can come out now.”
Thomas didn’t answer. Julia called again and waited, but Thomas still didn’t answer. He couldn’t have opened the door without waking her so he had to be in there. “The window!” she shouted to nobody in particular. Julia jumped up from the floor to go outside in order to see if he’d left the window open after sneaking out. She stood up too quickly and had to lie back down to keep from blacking out. When she felt ready to try again, she stretched her arms, and pulled herself up to her knees. That’s when she finally noticed the folded sheet of paper that had been pushed under the door. Her trembling hands picked up the piece of paper and unfolded the note, and her tired eyes began to read. When her eyes finished skimming over the scrawled letters, Julia folded the note again and let her hands reach for the doorknob.
“Thomas, I still won’t turn the knob. I still can’t come in. Please come out.” Julia waited and listened. “Thomas, come out!” The chilling quiver in her voice would almost have been enough to compel a dead man to come out. She hesitated a little longer before going to the living room, where she sat down on the couch and made a phone call.
“It’s my brother,” she said when the operator answered the phone.
The operator told her to stay calm, and listened as Julia explained the situation and gave him the address. Julia hung up the phone, but she didn’t get up from the couch. She listened to the silence. She wondered if it was as silent behind Thomas’s door. She waited. Then, when she’d worked up the nerve, she made another phone call. She fumbled with the buttons and then, as if the phone were composed of lead, struggled to hold it up to her ear. The phone rang several times but finally a familiar voice answered.
“Hello?”
Julia didn’t know what to say or how to begin.
“Hello?”
The telephone trembled in her sweaty fingers.
“Hello?”
Julia finally found her voice. “Dad, there’s something I’ve got to tell you about Thomas. You might need to sit down.”
* * *
When the doorbell rang, Julia still hadn’t gone outside to see if Thomas had left the window open; she hadn’t tried to open his door; she hadn’t so much as gotten up from the couch.
When the doorbell rang a second time she stood up methodically and walked to the front door. Every movement she made was forced and unnatural. She walked as if she were living in a dream. When Julia got to the door she stopped. The doorbell rang a third time. “Breathe,” she told herself.