BOUNDARIES: A Louisiana Love Story (Post 3)

Chapter 2: Thomas

For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God.

Colossians 3:3

“Anne and Tammy are dead.” I can barely hear the weak voice that belongs to my best friend. It sounds different, as if the telephone has squeezed and twisted it into something fake and lifeless. “They’re both dead,” Becca says. There’s no exclamation─ just the statement.
     Death is new to me. I thought my reaction would be different, more emotional. But instead, it’s as if she hasn’t told me. The register is broken, the receipt paper jammed. It’s not that I don’t care; it’s merely a processing problem. I have nothing to offer in return.
     “It was a car accident. They were drunk.” The pain in her voice is normal, so appropriate. “Cheryl was with ‘em. She’s in the hospital and they think she’ll die, too.”
     I didn’t know Tammy well but Anne was a childhood friend I’d drifted away from during high school. I think about Anne's face and feel empty. It puzzles me how other people know how to react. “Maybe she’ll make it,” I finally say, feeling sad for Becca. Cheryl befriended her after realizing they were both going to Nichols State College. Becca then joined Cheryl, Tammy, and Anne’s tight clique. Yesterday she and Cheryl were to share a dorm room complete with matching sheets and bedspreads; today all Becca’s new friends are either dead or dying.
     “They called me last night to go out,” she says. “I didn’t go. I just didn’t feel like it. There was no real reason.” Her voice has that nasal tone people get after crying for hours. “I don’t even wanna go to college now.”
     “Well, don’t go,” I say. “Stay here with me. Everybody’s leavin’.
     “At least your friends aren’t dead.”
     "Cain’t you go to LSUS? Maybe we can get an apartment together.”
     “It’s too late. School starts in two weeks.”
     “There’s got to be a way.”
     “It’s not practical,” she says. “Listen, I have to go.”
     “What about the party tonight?” I ask, hoping she’ll still want to go despite death.
     “I cain’t be goin’ to any parties right now.” She seems surprised that I asked, that I can think of parties on days like this. She doesn’t realize that her new emotions are the ones I skillfully carry around on ordinary days. I know parties aren’t canceled due to pain. She says, “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
     As I hang up, I try to shift my focus. Death is too far away and too frightening to think about. I’ll deal with it later. I stare out of my bedroom window and struggle to see past the Crepe Myrtle I loved as a child. Its branches, like huge tendrils, are inches away from crashing into my window. If I hunch my back and stick my neck out a little, I can see between its two largest limbs.
     It occurs to me that the neighbor’s dog had been a puppy for such a short time. Its reddish hair glistens in the sun, as does the silver chain that ties him firmly to the tree he stands beside. He looks up at me, begging for freedom. The house suddenly feels cold, even in the hellish Louisiana summer. There’s an artificial warmth that doesn’t count. Instead of a big-wide-open-oven-heat, it’s more like microwaves, strange and invisible. I have to get out.
     Bolting for the front door, I turn the sharp corner just outside my room and rush down the stairs. New paneling slithers up the stairway walls. As I reach the bottom, a small, unrelated detail flings to mind. The register jolts. I race back up in search of the hall closet that is now missing. My arms spread across the wall. I feel the smooth panels that recently replaced the doors, almost lovingly, as if I can detect the contents by touch alone. A splinter stings my hand.
     I rush back downstairs to find my mother chopping carrots in the kitchen. She stops, looking puzzled, and I wonder if she heard me going up and down the stairs. But her eyes cloud and I know she’s on to something else, a more important thought, perhaps how long the carrots should cook, or if she has enough.
     “I didn’t know you were gonna wall off that closet,” I say.
     “It’s temporary.” She doesn’t look up. “We’re gonna reopen it on the other side and have another closet in our bedroom.”
     “When?” I demand in that overly dramatic tone teenagers use. I know now that if you make up your mind to listen, sometimes you can hear reality in it. My mother isn’t trying.
     “I don’t know,” she snaps. “One of these days.”
     “Did you take all those books and pictures and thangs out?”
     “I told your dad to take ‘em out but he just left ‘em. It was his decision.” She sighs, shaking her head. “That doubting Thomas will never change. Your dad never does what he should; he never listens to me.” She rubs her beautiful head with the back of her hand. “Well, I don’t think any of it was important. There wasn’t anythang in there that we cain’t live without for awhile.”
     “You shouldn’t leave stuff sealed up in a hole.” A wave of confidence rushes over me as I realize that more and more I’m seeing life in the details─ like Matt.
     “Yes, I most certainly can. Try not to be so dramatic all the time.”
     Oh, brother, I think, considering her lifelong antics.
     “It’s just a closet with a bunch of junk nobody wants anyway. Now, please don’t get me upset. I’m gettin’ a headache. And where are you goin’ anyway?”
     “I don’t know,” I yell just before the front door slams behind me.
     I drive aimlessly down the highway, trying not to think of Anne, much less Tammy and Cheryl. The radio screams. I zip in and out of traffic. “Get the fuck off the road!” I yell at the trucks. “Just get off the fuckin’ road!” It feels good to yell.
     I end up at Matt’s house.
     He asked me not to come over because he needs to study for his last summer semester final. Regardless, I’m sure he’ll be happy to see me.
     But when he see me he asks, “What are you doin’ here?” as if angry that I failed to follow his instructions.
     Something in my head burns. “I didn’t think you’d mind.”
     “Well, you thought wrong.” He stares at me. “I told you I have to study.”
     “I’m sorry ... but how can you be so mean?”
     “Listen, I have to study. I’ve told you how it is.” His eyes widen. “We’ve been over this a hundred times.”
     “Cain’t you take a short break?”
     “What word don’t you understand?” He waits for an answer, but continues when I fail to respond. “Look, my goal is to do my best where I am, and where I’m headed, and that’s med school. Nobody’s gonna stop me, distract me, or get in the way.”
     “You said you weren’t gonna break up with me.”
     “We’re not breakin’ up, but we will if you cain’t do what I’m askin’. I told you how it is.” His face twitches.
     “You mean with your dad and all?”
     His body rocks toward me. “My dad’s got nothin’ to do with this.”
     As my mouth opens to respond, he grabs me. His lips move across my face. “Please just go,” he says between kisses.
     He’s telling me to go but I’ve never felt so wanted. I don’t understand why I can’t stay─just for a few minutes. It’s another confusion to toss atop all the others. Like an old coat, I stuff it deep into the closet in my head knowing it will rot away if I leave it there long enough, unused and unexamined. But I don’t want to discard it. I know it’s time to clean out closets and unload trucks. I just don’t know how. I finally walk away without saying a word. When his door slams, I hear the cracking sound of lonely.

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BOUNDARIES is Penelope Przekop's first novel. It's a work of fiction based on true events. Since writing BOUNDARIES, she has completed two other novels. ABERRATIONS was published by Greenleaf Book Group in 2008. CENTERPIECES is currently being considered by several publishers. Penelope is working on her fourth novel, DUST.