Thomas and Niko in the City of Trees

Chapter 16 - Part 1

My legs are pretty tired by the time I get close to home. I've just done so much goddamn walking. Maybe it was the three-hour nap I took in the middle of the day, but I'm having some trouble shaking this surreal feeling. I can hardly remember the end of my conversation with Owen, nor making up my mind to leave the park. I do remember specifically asking him not to tell anyone. If anything about our discussion offended him, it was that. He must not have liked the implication, because his response was to say I know him better than that. I really don't, but whatever. I end up feeling quite a bit of gratitude towards him by the time I'm entering my neighborhood. He's given me some peace of mind, which you can probably guess is something I'm a little hard-up for at the moment.

My mom is up. She's looking pretty put together, even though it's still a long time before her shift starts. She's sitting up on the couch, watching one of her shows. She looks happy to see me, and even pauses her show to say hi. I lean down and kiss her on the top of her head. It's just a little thing I do when she seems like she'll be receptive to it. I can usually tell when she's having a good week, and I figure this must be one.

"What happened to you?" she says. She's talking about the way I smell and my appearance, which I'm sure has reached a new level of disheveled.

"I was camping with some friends," I say.

"Well, go clean yourself up."

"I will."

Her eyes catch mine before I go down the hall. "Are you doing okay, Niko?"

The fact that she's asking just makes me so happy, I could cry. "I'm doing fine, Mom."

I go and shower, then collapse on my bed. I'm lying there in nothing but a black pair of underwear. I spent plenty of time soaping up, getting myself clean and fresh, but after all that, I don't feel any different. I turn on my side and think about who in this world I could talk to, if I needed to talk to someone right at this moment. It turns out I don't know very many people. Not really. I think about my last year ever of high school, and this complete wreck of a half-season that has followed.

I guess I'm thinking about a lot. It's crazy to me just how messed up everything got. I keep trying to reason my way through it, but I get so overwhelmed so quickly that I have to back away, let it fade to static and tell myself everything will turn out all right. I did all this for him, but somehow he's still not someone I really want to see right now. I'm angry at him. I'm angry at both of us, for not even trying to imagine how it was all going to feel afterwards—how he and I would feel about each other. I want to believe it will work out. Life finds a way, and all that. But right now, it feels an awful lot like I've lost everything. That's what gets me crying. I start crying like I haven't in a long time. I'm crying because I might not talk to Lexie ever again. I'm crying because my friendship with Thomas Chu will never be the same, a fact that no longer seems exciting or good.

For at least half an hour, it seems like all I can do is cry. Everyone says you'll feel better if you let yourself do it, and you know what? Everyone's right. I get this strange sense of peace afterwards, even if I'm no less confused than before. Just fuck it all.

—

The next morning, I'm back in that little coffee shack like none of this bullshit even happened. Not a word from Thomas has landed on my phone. That's fine—I haven't said a word to him, either. I can't speak for him, but here's what I'm thinking: We did a bad thing. We let it go on for too long, and now we're paying for it. It doesn't feel even remotely right to get together and celebrate anything. Shit, it hardly feels right to talk to each other. That's our punishment. We got exactly what we had coming.

I work my entire shift holding tight to this mindset, but by the end of it, I'm kind of longing to hear the familiar rumble of that old Lexus pulling into the lot. I'm wondering how it would be if he showed up, what the hell he might come up with to say to me. Personally, I wouldn't feel the need for us to say anything. I'd be happy just to see him smiling and waving from the driver's seat, shoulders bare and tanned brown. He could drive away after that and I wouldn't care. It would be enough just to know he's doing all right.