eyes at the memory of who I was in college, a girl dressed in all black hiding in the shadows because she was too shy to say she wanted to be a part of the world. Tommy knows I know what he feels like, because he’s one of those who made me feel like nothing, back then. Brendan, too, and he knows it. Both of them do.
Smoothing out his sweater for something to do, he turns and mumbles, “Right. Right. So you know.”
I don’t bother to tell him that those feelings don’t give him license to do the things he did. That Brendan probably sensed he was hiding something, his double life, and that’s why Brendan hated him. Brendan hates liars more than anything. I don’t bother to tell him that Mark can choose who he wants to for his friends, and that’s not Brendan’s fault.
I don’t tell him these things, because I can see he’s breaking. I’m hoping he’ll do the right thing, if I can just keep my mouth shut; not an easy task.
He stares at the ash-filled fire pit, kneeling in front of it like there’s a warm blaze between us. How I wish there were.
“Bruce had been in contact with my dad, keeping an eye on him after my Uncle Paul disappeared, maybe with my mother.” He smirks as if just having thought of this. “Dad had been building up to this for some time, apparently, and he was dumb enough–which makes you lucky–to tell Bruce his plan. He was going to kill you. And he didn’t give a shit about the baby.” Tommy meets my eyes with a look so serious I shiver. I’d thought as much, but hearing it said out loud, that’s a whole other feeling.
“Why are you telling me this?”
He drops his gaze back to the fire pit. “Our family has never been killers. We’re thieves. That’s all. When I saw you and Brendan that night in your bar, I wasn’t in my right mind. Time had built up the pressure in here,” he touches the side of his head, “and I just lost it. But anybody is capable of losing it, Annie. Even you.” He reaches for a water bottle and opens it, holding it like it’s a beer with his index finger hooked around the spout as he takes a swig. Wiping his mouth with his forearm, he says, “My dad lost it when I testified and when my mom left. And he–like me back then–needed to have someone to point the finger at, and that was you. But it could have been anyone, so he didn’t have to look at his own life. Also like me.”
My eyebrows twitch upward. “That’s pretty profound awareness.”
Tommy glances away on a wry smile. “I had a lot of time to think.”
“How did your cousin tell you about your dad? Weren’t guards listening?”
Tommy makes a sound, his mind a million miles away. “He had a friend give me the details. Someone I can’t name since I owe them my freedom and you owe them your life.”
Stammering, I argue, “I wasn’t going to ask their name.”
It’s like he doesn’t hear me, though. “You just never know when a friend is going to come through for you, do you? Bruce has good friends.” His eyes rise to look at me again. “I tried to warn you.”
Confused, I make a face. “What? How? What do you mean?”
“But you freaked out and ran to Bobby. I couldn’t let him see me of course. I was this close to going back in.”
The weight of this hangs in the air between us: if Bobby had seen him, I would be dead.
“Well, you should have told me…” I trail off, lamely.
“Hey Annie! It’s me, Tommy! Got a minute?”
I frown. He smirks and standing up in one fluid motion, steps to the cooler. “I’m going to let you go, but I don’t know how.”
He stares at me. I’m flabbergasted. He’s right. He wouldn’t have been able to tell me had I not run and screamed for Bobby. He probably would have had to cover my mouth from screaming while he whispered into my ear that he was here to help me. I would never have believed him.
“Why didn’t you stop your father before he got to me?”
“We didn’t know where he was. He wouldn’t tell Bruce ahead of the abduction. We’re normally in on the plan when it’s been a robbery. But Dad had lost it–I’m sure you noticed–and he wasn’t behaving