Thomas Raith (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
emptynight) wrote2009-10-12 08:42 am
emptynight) wrote2009-10-12 08:42 am
Entry tags:
Roadtrip of Denial: Your heart won't heal right if you keep tearing out the sutures
They had gotten a late start leaving Joplin, pulling into St. Louis a few hours after noon. Not that it mattered, since most of the things they wanted to see wouldn’t be open until after dark. It was a sunny day, so Thomas left Alice at the hotel and, taking the suggestion of the concierge, drove down a street full of houses Lara would have loved to the park. Walking through the park seemed to calm Thomas’ mind, and despite passing interest, he bypassed the signs for the zoo. Calling Justine while surrounded by children screaming about monkeys just seemed silly.
He continued walking until he came to the art museum, with a beautiful, quiet hill spread out before it. Leaning against the limestone wall, Thomas pulled out his phone and stared at it for a long moment. Staring out over the hill, Thomas pressed “Talk” and waited.
*****
It was late in the afternoon, which meant the daytime business had been wrapped up and nighttime business hadn’t started. Justine had excused herself once Lara seemed to no longer need her, and sat in her room, going through the day’s Real World Bites feed again, the kernel of worry that she’d been ignoring while in Lara’s presence returning. Where was he? She thought about calling again, but hesitated. There was no guarantee he’d answer this time either, and every unanswered phone call hurt. There wouldn’t be time to calm down before she needed to get back to Lara, so she kept her hands off the phone.
But then her phone rang and Justine nearly jumped out of her skin in her scramble to answer. Her voice was calm as she picked up the phone and began the elaborate dance of oblique words that ensured they could speak safely.
“Hello, Justine’s Flowers.” If she hadn’t been alone, she would have answered with a simple ‘hello’ and he would have known to hang up or speak carefully.
“Hi, I’d like a dozen roses, pale pink, and enough matching petals to clothe a woman in them.” His voice was as calm as hers, but Justine fancied she could hear weariness in his, much as he could hear the worry in hers. Still, it was Thomas. Her Thomas, noble and beloved, and infuriating as hell. But so much stronger than he gave himself credit for.
Justine laughed, catching his reference. That had been the night their relationship had changed, the night he’d come to realize she was more than just a doe, that there was such steely strength in her that she’d blackmail wizards to keep him safe. “That will take a few days to procure,” she said lightly, affection creeping into her voice. “Until then, how are you, Thomas?”
She could hear it now, the sigh as the masks fell away, all the jokes and evasions were left by the wayside. His voice was tired and apologetic and yet so full of love that it made it hurt to hear him. “I’m sorry, Justine.”
“For what? For not answering my calls? For being an idiot and leaving them like that and running away?” She had never bothered hiding it when she was angry. He always knew, so what was the point in lying. And she got angry with his stubborn pigheadedness more often than he’d like to admit. Even during those last few years when he tried to keep her safe by keeping things from her, by forcibly going into her mind and easing her fears, she got angry afterwards. They’d had a deal. He was allowed to do it as long as she was allowed to rage at him later for it.
His laugh was wonderful, had always been, when it wasn’t a mask, when it was genuine and pure. Maybe it was the rarity of it that made her heart skip a beat every time she heard it. “Yes. For all that. And for losing control and using it as an excuse. I shouldn’t have hurt that girl. For Dru, and Lacci, and all of it.” Justine closed her eyes and swallowed hard. She was grateful this was over the phone. It hurt a little, to know he’d found them, but it passed quickly. He deserved a second chance, third maybe, depending on how things went when he went back.
“You shouldn’t apologize for falling in love, Thomas.” Her voice was soft and serious. “It’s alright. It doesn’t mean you love me any less. Or I you.” He needed to hear it, because he would never say it. Because some part of him still believed it was his weakness and not his strength. “Where are you now?”
There was a long pause, and for a moment Justine wondered if he would tell her. Sometimes he still hid things from her, and she would have to pry them out of him with soft words and yelling. “I’m in St. Louis. I was thinking of coming home.”
So close. “I want to see you,” the words slipped out of her mouth as soon as she thought them. “Before you go back to the house and grovel for forgiveness.” She laughed, soft and teasing. “You’ve always been so good at groveling, Thomas. No one stays angry with you for long.”
He laughed with her, and for a moment Justine closed her eyes and pretended he was here with her, just coming out of the shower, just out of sight. It hurt so much. “I’ve had a lot of practice.” Another long, hesitant pause. “How about 3rd Coast? Let me buy you dinner.” He was starting to retreat again.
“Your apartment, Thomas. Tomorrow night. I’ll be waiting.” There was no room for argument in her tone, and he knew it. “And please, bring Alice with you.”
He sputtered and Justine couldn’t help giggling. It was always good to take him by surprise, just a little. “I lo— Take care of yourself, Justine. Please.”
He always tried to say it. Always tried and never could, because to say it would be to admit his own strength, his own weakness, that which set him apart from his family. It was the one thing he tried to give her for, in his mind, having taken away so much. She didn’t need it. She knew, with every attempted touch, she knew. But she appreciated the thought, the attempt. “I love you too, Thomas. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
The line went quiet, as they both waited for the other to hang up. As always, the disconnecting click came through. He always let her win.
Taking a deep shuddering breath, Justine rose from her seat and headed for the bathroom. Her make up was running.
*****
Staring at the phone in his hands, Thomas took a deep shuddering breath, trying to remind himself that she wasn’t here with him, wasn’t just out of his field of vision. It hurt to hear her, it always did, but it was a hurt he wouldn’t trade for the world because, despite it, he felt a little lighter. Sliding the phone back into his pocket, Thomas headed back down the hill, towards the car.
Alice was waiting.
He continued walking until he came to the art museum, with a beautiful, quiet hill spread out before it. Leaning against the limestone wall, Thomas pulled out his phone and stared at it for a long moment. Staring out over the hill, Thomas pressed “Talk” and waited.
*****
It was late in the afternoon, which meant the daytime business had been wrapped up and nighttime business hadn’t started. Justine had excused herself once Lara seemed to no longer need her, and sat in her room, going through the day’s Real World Bites feed again, the kernel of worry that she’d been ignoring while in Lara’s presence returning. Where was he? She thought about calling again, but hesitated. There was no guarantee he’d answer this time either, and every unanswered phone call hurt. There wouldn’t be time to calm down before she needed to get back to Lara, so she kept her hands off the phone.
But then her phone rang and Justine nearly jumped out of her skin in her scramble to answer. Her voice was calm as she picked up the phone and began the elaborate dance of oblique words that ensured they could speak safely.
“Hello, Justine’s Flowers.” If she hadn’t been alone, she would have answered with a simple ‘hello’ and he would have known to hang up or speak carefully.
“Hi, I’d like a dozen roses, pale pink, and enough matching petals to clothe a woman in them.” His voice was as calm as hers, but Justine fancied she could hear weariness in his, much as he could hear the worry in hers. Still, it was Thomas. Her Thomas, noble and beloved, and infuriating as hell. But so much stronger than he gave himself credit for.
Justine laughed, catching his reference. That had been the night their relationship had changed, the night he’d come to realize she was more than just a doe, that there was such steely strength in her that she’d blackmail wizards to keep him safe. “That will take a few days to procure,” she said lightly, affection creeping into her voice. “Until then, how are you, Thomas?”
She could hear it now, the sigh as the masks fell away, all the jokes and evasions were left by the wayside. His voice was tired and apologetic and yet so full of love that it made it hurt to hear him. “I’m sorry, Justine.”
“For what? For not answering my calls? For being an idiot and leaving them like that and running away?” She had never bothered hiding it when she was angry. He always knew, so what was the point in lying. And she got angry with his stubborn pigheadedness more often than he’d like to admit. Even during those last few years when he tried to keep her safe by keeping things from her, by forcibly going into her mind and easing her fears, she got angry afterwards. They’d had a deal. He was allowed to do it as long as she was allowed to rage at him later for it.
His laugh was wonderful, had always been, when it wasn’t a mask, when it was genuine and pure. Maybe it was the rarity of it that made her heart skip a beat every time she heard it. “Yes. For all that. And for losing control and using it as an excuse. I shouldn’t have hurt that girl. For Dru, and Lacci, and all of it.” Justine closed her eyes and swallowed hard. She was grateful this was over the phone. It hurt a little, to know he’d found them, but it passed quickly. He deserved a second chance, third maybe, depending on how things went when he went back.
“You shouldn’t apologize for falling in love, Thomas.” Her voice was soft and serious. “It’s alright. It doesn’t mean you love me any less. Or I you.” He needed to hear it, because he would never say it. Because some part of him still believed it was his weakness and not his strength. “Where are you now?”
There was a long pause, and for a moment Justine wondered if he would tell her. Sometimes he still hid things from her, and she would have to pry them out of him with soft words and yelling. “I’m in St. Louis. I was thinking of coming home.”
So close. “I want to see you,” the words slipped out of her mouth as soon as she thought them. “Before you go back to the house and grovel for forgiveness.” She laughed, soft and teasing. “You’ve always been so good at groveling, Thomas. No one stays angry with you for long.”
He laughed with her, and for a moment Justine closed her eyes and pretended he was here with her, just coming out of the shower, just out of sight. It hurt so much. “I’ve had a lot of practice.” Another long, hesitant pause. “How about 3rd Coast? Let me buy you dinner.” He was starting to retreat again.
“Your apartment, Thomas. Tomorrow night. I’ll be waiting.” There was no room for argument in her tone, and he knew it. “And please, bring Alice with you.”
He sputtered and Justine couldn’t help giggling. It was always good to take him by surprise, just a little. “I lo— Take care of yourself, Justine. Please.”
He always tried to say it. Always tried and never could, because to say it would be to admit his own strength, his own weakness, that which set him apart from his family. It was the one thing he tried to give her for, in his mind, having taken away so much. She didn’t need it. She knew, with every attempted touch, she knew. But she appreciated the thought, the attempt. “I love you too, Thomas. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
The line went quiet, as they both waited for the other to hang up. As always, the disconnecting click came through. He always let her win.
Taking a deep shuddering breath, Justine rose from her seat and headed for the bathroom. Her make up was running.
*****
Staring at the phone in his hands, Thomas took a deep shuddering breath, trying to remind himself that she wasn’t here with him, wasn’t just out of his field of vision. It hurt to hear her, it always did, but it was a hurt he wouldn’t trade for the world because, despite it, he felt a little lighter. Sliding the phone back into his pocket, Thomas headed back down the hill, towards the car.
Alice was waiting.