Counterpoint

Chapter 84

Alexander

   Thomas has been actively avoiding his mother for three days now. For such a renowned Momma's boy it is quite the feat for him to avoid all interaction and mention of her. Though I suppose it is relatively easy to avoid someone who chooses not to intrude upon the other party's home. I suppose I shouldn't give him too much credit on that front. He may be somewhat proud of his accomplishment, but I am curious to see how well he fares today when he and the rest of his family are all under one roof again. 

   I am praying for a small miracle that we can all maintain our composure long enough for Thomas' sister to be wed in peace. She deserves that much. However, I imagine that it will take God's grace and special attention to prevent any further aggression or conflict amongst the Jefferson brood. If God had ever heard any of my prayers I hope that he will elect to pay this particular prayer special attention, for all of our sakes. 

   Thomas holds Martha close, both of his arms wrapped around her little waist as she sits in his lap. Her petite fingers fumble with the pages of a book Thomas had bought for her the other day. The pages are too thin for her to grip, offering her a far too frustrating challenge for someone her age. Every few minutes Thomas will assist her by flipping up the corner for her, once she established her gip on the page his eyes would glaze over as he stared out into the oblivion of his thoughts. 

   If this is how the drive to the church is then I can only imagine what is going to happen during the ceremony and reception. I resist the urge to reach over and touch his hand, to offer what little solace I can. Thomas is fighting a war, with himself and his family, as much as I would like to be his ally in such a war there is a point where he has to stand on his own and decide if this is a war truly worth fighting. If the consequences are truly worth the time, effort, and strife. He has reached a point in this endeavor where I am forced to be a bystander and await whatever decision he has made. I can only hope that I will be able to wholeheartedly support that choice alongside him. 

   From what I can see he doesn't have any fight left in him. His transition into fatherhood has robbed him of a majority of his energy. There are shadows beginning to pool beneath his eyes and his body is beginning to droop like a cut rose. I have never seen him so diminished and exhausted. My heart chills as I am forced to accept my active participation in his decline, my responsibility. My teeth gnaw at the inside of my cheek as I attempt to focus on the road instead of the guilt gnawing away at my soul as my boyfriend slowly decayed behind me. 

   "You are being unnervingly quiet." He mutters, his eyes remaining trained on the country road ahead of us. Apparently, his family has a hidden chapel deep in the woods on his father's original property. Clearly, from what little information could be gleaned from the persistent arguments of the elder Jefferson children, it is the only fitting place for a woman born into the Jefferson family to be wed.

   "I could say the same to you." I look him over fully for a moment, glancing at the rearview mirror, studying the contours of his face and note the eclipsed crescents beneath his eyes. "I thought perhaps you were never going to speak to me." 

   "I have a lot on my mind at the moment." The words escape him in a nearly incoherent mumble. 

   "Perhaps, you could try and put all of it out of your mind, just for today?"

   "For Martha's sake." He mutters. "It wouldn't be right for me to ruin her big day like this." 

   "Yes, for your sister's sake, but I was also considering your lack of presence in this moment or the last." He glances over at me briefly, his eyes quickly returning to staring out into the blurry oblivion of the virginian landscape. "You are physically here, but mentally and emotionally I can't help but feel that perhaps you are lightyears away."