Page 30 of Pages of My Heart
“Because I never went to visit her. She—she was there all alone. She died all alone.” The words start to tumble out of him then, his chest too cold and his heart racing too fast. “When Maggie was little, Bridge told her our mom was dead. She said we shouldn’t visit because Maggie might find out, and it was just better that way, to make a clean break. She said mom didn’t remember us anyway, but . . . I don’t know. She was my mom. I loved her, Charlie. She was mymom, and I left her there to rot.” His tears turn to wracking sobs, his lungs struggling for air as everything he’s been holding inside lurches out, reprehensible and ugly.
“Oh, sweetheart.” Charlie envelops him, and Thomas tucks his face into the curve of Charlie’s neck, fingers twisting desperately into the fabric of his wool coat. They remain locked together, Charlie stroking his back in circles until the shudders subside.
“And I hated her, too,” he whispers, defeated. “It seemed like she was always trying to leave us even when she was still there. Charlie, why weren’t we enough?” Thomas lifts his head, wiping at his face, embarrassed by his tears and his snotty nose. “Why wasn’t I enough?”
Charlie’s eyes are watery and filled with concern. “Don’t think that. She was sick. And you were just a child when she went to Dunning. You did what your big sis told ya to do.” He places his hands on either side of Thomas’s face, running his thumbs over Thomas’s wet cheeks. “Christ—I’m so sorry your ma died, sweetheart.”
“They won’t even talk about it. Bridge and Michael. And what if Iamlike her? What if I get sick like that again? I’ll just be another burden on my family like she was, and . . . and on you. I—I would understand if you didn’t want to be with me anymore. You don’t owe me anything, and—”
“Stop it.” Charlie grips his face more firmly, brow knitting together. “Tommy, don’t talk like that. I’llalwayswant to be with you. You hear me? If you get sick again, then I’ll look after ya.”
“You won’t leave me?”
“Of course not. I love you, and it broke my fuckin’ heart that your family wasn’t looking after you like I could’ve. I wish you’d told me when your ma died. I wish I could’ve been there for you from the start.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Ain’t nothin’ to be sorry for, Red. C’mere.”
Charlie pulls him into another embrace. Thomas is grateful there are no other people around so he can melt against Charlie’s chest and rest his lips against the warm skin of his neck. He closes his eyes and allows Charlie’s body, Charlie’s scent, to comfort and soothe him.
Later that night, long after he and Charlie were forced to part ways, Thomas’s father, Patty, stumbles through the front door of the O’Reilly house, collapsing down onto the couch beside him. He’s drunk, of course. His clothes are filthy, andthe smell of alcohol, vomit, and body odor is a rancid mix that immediately permeates the room. Patty had disappeared the day they got the call from Dunning that their mother was dead. It’s not unusual for him to go missing for days at a time, but this is the longest Thomas can remember him being absent since he was a child.
“You look so much like her,” Patty slurs. A single tear slides down his father’s face and then his eyelids flutter closed. Thomas doesn’t respond, returning to the book in his lap but unable to absorb a single word.
“She’s the reason I’m like this, son. She was my world . . . my everything.”
Thomas cannot bear witness to his father’s grief tonight, so he stands and heads towards the stairs. In the past he never understood why his father ended up this way, but now he does. Because if he ever lost Charlie, he too, would become a shell of a man. Thomas pauses at the bottom step, eyes falling closed as his chin drops to his chest.
“I loved her too.”
He lies awake for a long time that night. So long, that his eyes adjust to the dark and the objects in his room start to appear distorted and grotesque. Memories of his childhood come and go in quick succession. Happy ones, tinted in soft pink and gold and aqua blue. His mother laughing joyously in a floral dress, picking him up and twirling him around. His father bringing home flowers for her that he stole from someone’s garden. And then the memories bathed in red and silver and the coldest white. His mother unable to rise from her bed. Muffled sobbing and his father’s voice, angry and frustrated. Then red stained floors and the flash of silver from a kitchen knife. Men in white coats and his mother’s piercing screams.
Chapter 18
December 1939
Thomas
As he walks with Charlie past the local shops already decorated for Christmas, Thomas finds himself lost in thought. Lately, he’s been really feeling the pressure of college, especially having missed so much time at the start of the semester. And now with less than a year until he graduates, he’s become apprehensive about his prospects. Working part-time at a greasy spoon is easy, but having the responsibility of a teacher—despite that being all he’s wanted for as long as he can remember—fills him with trepidation. But even more pressing is his growing fear of losing Charlie. A fear that seems to have burrowed its way right into the very marrow of his bones. He fears being discovered. He fears being forced to marry a woman he does not,cannot, love.
When they began their relationship over two years ago, Thomas was barely eighteen and, with hindsight, a little wet behind the ears. How long can they continue sneaking around, stealing private moments together in public places? How long can they keep lying to their families and taking poor, unassuming girls on pretend dates? How many years can they remainbachelors who spend all their time together and not have people suspect? It feels like their love is on borrowed time. But he doesn’t see any point in living if he has no future with Charlie. He feels like he’s drowning.
“Tommy? You ain’t spoken since we left your house. What’s wrong?”
Charlie’s voice jolts him out of his thoughts. They’re meeting two girls at a malt shop for an afternoon date. It’s not always easy to find two sisters or two friends to take out together, but they try hard to stick to this agreed upon rule. A few times in the past they’ve been out with girls separately, but it always ends in jealousy and arguments. Once they find two willing girls, they try to take them out a few times and ensure someone they know sees them together. And of course they talk about these girls to anyone who’ll listen and complain about their poor luck in finding the right girl to settle down with.
Thomas stops walking, tapping Charlie’s elbow so he does too, then tugs him nearer to the storefronts so they’re out of the biting wind. “Nothing’s wrong,” he answers. “I’m just sick of this. How long are we going to keep doing this?”
Charlie’s face pales. “What are you saying? You don’t wanna be with me anymore? You’re sick of me?”
Thomas can’t help himself—he laughs. If he doesn’t, he will surely cry on this cold, icy sidewalk in front of all these people passing by. “No, dummy! I’m sick of these stupid dates! I’m sick of spending my hard-earned dollars buying ice creams or candy and tickets to the pictures for girls I don’t care about”—he drops his voice to a whisper—“instead ofyou. I’m sick of pretending. It’s not fucking fair.”
Charlie bites his bottom lip, gloved hand coming up to his forehead. Thomas can almost see his thoughts racing as he tries to find a solution. Charlie always tries to look after him—it’sone of a thousand things Thomas loves about him. His darling Charlie is a considerate, caring man, and God should never have placed this burden upon him.
“Thomas, I know it ain’t fair,” Charlie says gently. “I’m sick of it too, but what choice do we got? Once you finish college and get a job, maybe we’ll have more options. More freedom. Jimmy said I might get a raise next year. Maybe . . . I dunno, maybe we can move away somewhere? But for now, we gotta keep up appearances. We ain’t gone on any dates in a few months, so let’s just get this one outta the way and then we ain’t gotta do it again for a spell. Okay?”
At this moment, all Thomas wants is to hold Charlie. Even more, he wants to be held. “Can we go to the docks tonight? See if that old boat is still there? It’ll be cold, but I could sneak a blanket out of my house and we could set it down on the floor in the cabin.”
