Tuck Sinn

62

The marriage was coming up quickly.

Tom was laying in bed a few weeks later. Night was setting-one more day lost.

Tom felt as if it was all everyone had on their minds. And every time someone mentioned it-at school, at church, at home-his stomach gained an expanding depth that ached and pulled and brought him closer to falling apart. He still prayed-he had prayed at church every week, even today. But it hadn't done anything. Why did it never work?

Tom felt like he had no time. None at all.

He was going to school in the morning-he had to. He would also hang out with Becky and them. He would do his homework. Every weekday had the same routine that took up all of his time; he couldn't do anything he wanted; he couldn't think. And he needed an escape.

Tom got up out of bed. He was restless and tired at the same time-all he ever wanted was to sleep, but at the same time whenever he tried to, it all took over him and he kept on thinking about everything he still needed to do, and it was too much.

He didn't want that tonight. He needed the woods.

Tom padded to his door, opening it slowly, slowly. Continued to the stairs. His only haven was the woods; was at night, when he should be sleeping; when no one was watching him, waiting for him to mess up or just keep going.

He went down the stairs, walking so slowly so it didn't creak. Avoiding the steps he needed to. He was reminded of all those other nights, escaping to the woods, sometimes seeing Huck, sometimes still on his own. Back when he wasn't engaged yet. When he hadn't trapped himself in this cycle.

Tom moved to the front door, opening it as slowly as he could. Night air, cold and swelling, pulled into the house.

Everyone was happy except for him. He could see it in their eyes. In their smiles, excited and warbling, as they all talked about their own lives and about Becky and Tom's marriage. He couldn't shake that feeling of being surrounded, forced into a life he didn't want. It gripped him.

Tom closed the door behind him just as slowly, hardly seeing through the dark night. Tom pulled away from it, making sure it didn't creak open.

Tom just wanted a break. He needed one. But he had no time to do that-he had to keep this going. Just until they got married.

And then further, Tom realized. His whole life, he would have to do this. To put on a show.

His stomach turned. A whole life of faking it. Of lying to keep Becky happy, if she even would be.

Tom turned to the town. It was dark, too dark, even with the streetlamps, and then Tom realized that he had never snuck out this late. The light, amber and golden, burned his eyes with its brightness, with its sharpness.

And then Tom just felt exhausted. He prayed whenever he could, but it wasn't doing anything. His god wasn't there for him. No one really was-they all just watched the show, they all just thought they knew him when they hardly knew anything about him at all.

He walked through the streets, feeling the rough ground on his bare feet. He should've worn shoes, probably, but he didn't want to go back.

It was so calm out here. The light glowed yellow on his skin, and Tom could feel sprinkles of rain, cold and airy. There was absolutely no one else. He was alone with the whole town and the sky and relief.

Tom took a breath. A few weeks, a few days. The rest of his life. He wasn't happy, but everyone else was. Becky was. At least he had this moment.

Maybe eventually, Becky would get sick of him, and then they would both be unhappy. And then this could be over.

Maybe not.

He wasn't in the right mindset for marriage. He didn't want to get married.

He walked with his eyes closed, letting the night absorb him. Small raindrops fell on his shoulders.

Becky was his backup, and that wasn't right. But he just didn't know what to do to be happy-all he knew is that he couldn't be with Huck. Everyone would be disgraced.

Tom reached the woods, he knew, and opened his eyes.

Away from the streetlamps, it was a full darkness. He looked up, squinting through the dark and the rain droplets, seeing stars. Plentiful and bright like pins, glowing in his eyes, shining past the clouds. He turned forwards. Darkness was in front of him. He reached forwards and felt bark against his palm.

Calmness pulled over him with the rain. He needed this. He entered the woods.

He walked between trees, feeling his way along. It was so quiet. Calm with its thick blackness, the rustle of trees and rain, the sliding of his feet and his hands through the forest. This was his relief. He wished it could always be like this-- his life filled with the peace of a familiar forest at night.

Tom realized he had been hoping Huck was here, too, and as the quiet settled upon him, he felt that disappointment in his chest.

He waited until it was gone and brought his thoughts back. Huck wouldn't always be able to be there for him. Huck wouldn't always be in his head. All he really had was himself, and he needed to make peace with that. He needed to make peace with his new life, because it was coming quicker than he wanted.

He didn't love Becky the way he should. He didn't love Huck the way he should.

His life wasn't supposed to turn out like this.

Nothing was right, but here in this forest, he could get away.

The quiet surrounded him. Tom could've run away right now. Just left town, unheard, unseen, escaping. He could change his life.

But Tom kept standing in the rain. Kept waiting in that forest for Huck, for a sign, for himself. He couldn't leave yet. Not until he fixed things.