Page 61 of Torn
Tom rose up in my mind, his sweet, simple smile. I couldn’t imagine anything ever being complicated between us—and that realization cut both ways. But still, it was better than what I had right in front of me, right now.
In a voice barely above a whisper, I said, “There’s somebody else. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. And, sweetie, I’m not surprised. It’s been pretty obvious you didn’t really want to be here.”
I wouldn’t allow myself to cry. I wanted to, but I needed to save it for later, when I was by myself. I simply needed to get the truth out there, see where it led us.
“I didn’t mean for it to happen. I wasn’tlooking. The truth is, I was really excited about getting back together. And then one night, I went into a bar and met Tom.” I laughed. “The weird thing is he was nothing like what I thought I would ever seek out.” I shrugged. “A blue-collar guy. Not sophisticated in the least. Read one book in his whole life.” I turned a little toward Walt, trying to engage his gaze. “But there’s something about him. He has a big heart. He’s sweet and kind and so, so gentle.”
Walt nodded. He picked a piece of lint off his boxers, staring down at the floor. He said, his voice barely above a whisper, “He sounds like a Labrador puppy.” He paused for a minute. “That was mean. Forget I said that.”
“I don’t mean to sayyou’renot wonderful, Walt. You are! Handsome, sexy as hell. Fun. Well-read. I think you’ll be great—for someone else. I don’t even understand why you’re not great for me. Isn’t the heart strange? Logic tells me to pick you, but my heart is missing Tom.”
I stood up. “I need to find out where this thing with Tom is headed. I have to see if it’s the real thing, as I suspect it might be.” Really? That particular realization was just cementing itself as the words tumbled from my lips unconsidered.
I walked over and peered out the window. The sunlight dappled the tree-covered hills in the distance, and I swear to God, more autumn colors had shown up overnight.
“So… what? You’re gonna go home early?”
I hadn’t really decided on that, but yeah, now that Walt had uttered the plan, it became apparent that it was the right one, no matter what obstacles might stand in my way.
“Yeah, I think I should. I’ll pack my bag and head down the road to the general store. Does that bus run more than once a day?” I could feel a tear brimming at the corner of one eye. I casually brushed it away as though it were an errant crust of sleep.
“Just once a day.” Walt’s voice was toneless. “But it won’t come until two o’clock.” He came to stand beside me at the window. “Don’t you want to hang out? See Boston? You said you’d never been. You don’t have to leave.”
I put my hands on his shoulders, forcing myself to meet his eyes. “Yeah, Walt, I do. This was supposed tobesomething, at least for me. And it’s not. We both know that. Let’s not drag it out.”
He turned away. There was no small amount of bitterness in his voice when he said, “Have it your way.”
I went upstairs to begin packing.
I SATfor a long time on the bench in front of the general store. They had a little rack inside with some paperbacks, and I found a copy of a Stephen King book I had yet to read,Rose Madder, which had just come out in the paperback version I could afford. The book kept me busy for the several hours I spent waiting for the bus.
It also kept my mind off of Walt and off imagining him moping around the house, wondering why it had gone so wrong between us and what he would tell his friends when they arrived.
When I finally got to the airport, I was lucky. Looking back, things like what happened to me that day no longer occur at airports, and it seems oddly quaint. In short, the customer service agent who checked my bag (for free) consulted her screen and told me there was a flight back to Chicago that wasn’t full. Would I like a seat on that, since the flight corresponding to my originally booked flight wasn’t due to depart until tomorrow?
Of course, I wanted a seat on the flight.
Wonder of wonders, I also had the entire row to myself on a half-empty plane. And, they didn’t charge me for the change.
WHEN Igot home, after the long L ride home from the airport (Blue Line to downtown, Red Line north to Rogers Park), I approached my front door drained, emotionally, physically, and just about in any other way you can think of.
Still, I needed to talk to Tom. I wanted to determine when I could see him again. If I had him figured out, the answer to that timing would be within minutes. As nice and sexy as that prospect seemed, I knew I’d have to put him off until the next day.
The only thing I wanted in my bed that night were my pillows and the comforter I’d picked up on clearance at Marshall’s.
Tom picked up on the first ring, and I knew immediately he’d either been snorting coke or crying. His nose sounded completely clogged.
“Hey there! Just wanted to let you know I was home!”
“Already?” he asked in his congested voice. “I thought you had a couple more days out there.”
I’d imagined a more excited response to my early return home. “You okay?”
“No.”
And I could hear a sob escape him.
