Because it was easier. Because I’d done it for as long as I could remember. Because it was safer than being out in the sun and letting people in. It was better to hide and wonder than reveal and know the truth.
I could have said that. I think I had the capacity and I could have found the words. They would have come out in a stutter. Halted and choked and bitter. But I could have forced them out.
Instead, I said nothing.
Thomas smiled quietly at me. He closed his eyes and turned his face up toward the sun. “It’s different here than anywhere else,” he said, inhaling deeply.
“Mark said that when we met. About the smells of home.”
“Did he? In the diner.”
“He told you?”
Thomas smiled. It was nice, but showed too many teeth. “He did. He seemed to think you were a kindred spirit. And then what you did with Joe.”
I was alarmed. I took a step back. “What did I do? Is he okay? I’m sorry. I didn’t—”
“Ox.” His voice was deep. Deeper than before, and when his hands came down on my shoulders, it felt like a command, and I relaxed even before I knew it was happening. The tension left like it had never been there at all and I tilted my head back slightly, like I was exposing my neck. Even Thomas seemed surprised. “What is your last name?” he asked.
“Matheson.” There was an undercurrent of panic, but his voice w
as still deep and his hand still on my shoulders and the panic wouldn’t bubble toward the surface.
He opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it again. Then each word came, deliberate and careful. “Yesterday, when Joe found you. Who spoke first?”
“He did. He asked if I smelled something.” I wanted to take the stone wolf out of the box and look at it again.
Thomas stepped back, dropping his hands. He shook his head. There was a small smile on his face that looked almost like wonder. “Mark said you were different. In a good way.”
“I’m not anyone,” I said.
“Ox, before yesterday, we hadn’t heard Joe speak in fifteen months.”
The trees and the birds and the sun all fell away and I was cold. “Why?”
Thomas smiled sadly. “Because of life and all its horrors. The world can be a terrible place.”
IT CAN be. The world. Terrible and chaotic and wonderful.
People could be cruel.
I heard it when people called me names behind my back.
I heard it when they said the same things to my face.
I heard it in the sound the door made when my father left.
I heard it in the crack of my mother’s voice.
Thomas didn’t tell me why Joe stopped talking. I didn’t ask. It wasn’t my place.
People could be cruel.
They could be beautiful, but they could be cruel too.
It’s like something so lovely can’t just be lovely. It also has to be harsh and corroding. It’s a complexity I didn’t understand.
I didn’t see the cruelty when I sat down at their table the first time. Mark sat to my left, Joe to my right. The food was dished but nobody lifted a fork or spoon so I didn’t either. All eyes were on Thomas, who sat at the head of the table. The breeze was warm. He smiled at each of us and took a bite.