Following is an excerpt from the non-fiction novel (a genre coined by Truman Capote) I am writing.
Chapter Ten: Then
I didn’t see Thomas again until Halloween, when I went with Tobias to a party for the evening tellers at someone’s house. I was keenly interested in this party, of course, hoping Thomas would be there. I felt no guilt about Tobias because I had accepted that we were friends and nothing more. The unflattering implications Tobias had made about Thomas bothered me, but I didn’t write him off.
I should tell you this story to help you understand the powerful feelings I had for Thomas, why I couldn’t simply walk away.
When I was 11-years-old, God spoke to me directly. (I know – you’re rolling your eyes at me again. But you should know me by now. I’m not a freak, a liar, or a zealot. God talked to me. Said actual words only I could hear. Don’t roll your eyes at me. Sometimes you just have to listen to hear.
I was with my grandma on a hot May morning in our white frame church on a winding dirt road. Our Sunday school teacher had been talking to Sammi, Bianca, and me for weeks about “being saved.” Although my belief system falls far from such an interpretation now, at that time in our lives, “being saved” meant only one thing: stepping out of the pew to walk the aisle and proclaim Jesus as savior in front of everyone present. That’s just how it was done in Ringgold, Texas in the 1970s if you were a Baptist, and being a good Baptist was the only acceptable choice (especially for completing forms).
I remember every minute very clearly, as one would when something like this happens to them. On this Sunday morning, we had listened to the preacher do his best. The window unit air conditioners were straining against the heat as we finished singing the half-dozen standard hymns. I can see the beam of sunlight coming through the windows, the dust mites floating through the air, feel my grandma fanning herself beside me as I stood there in my white platform shoes left over from Easter. We were “Just as I Am”-ing,” Sammi sitting a pew over with her family, and Bianca a few rows behind me.
My whole body began to shake and I started to sweat, and from deep in my belly, but also so deep in my ears that they rang and I could hear nothing else, a voice said, “Go up there,” the very phrase I had been saying to myself internally. I felt such power, but also like I needed to vomit and shit my panties a little. I did not question that God was talking to me - me! - in Ringgold, Texas, of all places, population 160, on this Sunday morning in 1974.
I tell you this because this episode of God speaking to me is the closest thing I have to compare to the moment I met Thomas. The lightning between us was not quite deity-like, but it was powerful, and I’ll never forget it.
I knew I was going to see Thomas – and by the way, it was always “Thomas,” never “Tom,” or “Tommy.” Neither he nor his mother would have stood for that. And she was called “Grandmother,” by her grandchildren. They were that kind of family, which will be a factor later, but I am chasing a rabbit, as Daddy would say. (On the other hand, I would call it stream-of-consciousness, which I’m a fan of.)
Back to the point: Halloween. Tobias and I were firmly in the friend zone now, and he seemed to feel strongly about warning me against getting involved with Thomas. He had given up on dropping hints and begun coming out with direct evidence. “He dated a girl from the bank for a year, and as soon as she moved to San Antonio, he started going out with both of his ex-girlfriends from high school.” I could hear Tobias’ judgment in his voice. He clearly wanted permission to go full-critical about Thomas.
I sighed. “Go ahead and tell me what you’re trying to say,” I said.
“You’re better than he is,” Tobias looked down at me earnestly with a pleading smile. “You have morals.”
“He doesn’t have morals?”
He paused. “I feel bad for him because his dad died, but I don’t think he ever goes to class, and he gets drunk all the time. The things I hear him talk about with Shane are not cool.” He shook his head. “He’s just not for you.” He looked at me so earnestly.
I really did consider what Tobias had to say because I deeply respected him, but it didn’t matter. When I saw Thomas that night, the chemistry between us was so strong I felt like I was in a magnetic field.
I had come as a cat, with a darkened nose and drawn-on whiskers, wearing a little black skirt and tights and a black cardigan – the fashionable-but thrifty-girl’s costume. I felt pretty cute and could flirt better because of it. Thomas, for whom money was not an issue, was in full-on Blues Brothers with his best friend Shane, and they were the hit of the party. Thomas alternated between flirting with me and entertaining the crowd as Dan Aykroyd. I was his biggest fangirl. He was dating two other girls? We would see. He might have a drinking problem? I could fix that.
Ladies and gentlemen, people of all genders, ages, beliefs, loves, et. al: meet your narrator: The Fixer, or so I believed.
But at this point I was still falling off the cliff. I had not yet gone over the edge, but I was going into the first tricky part of the dive. By the time Tobias and I drove away that night, Thomas and I could barely stay away from each other.
The next week Thomas brought me a single rose at work and asked me out on our first date.
Wooing was his strongest side. He loved romance and thrill, the challenge and chase of getting the girl, and he was good at it, obviously. He had been dating regularly since he was 16 and knew how to win girls.
Wooing was not the problem, and he would come to woo me often. The problem, I learned, was what came after victory.
We began to see each other regularly almost every night, instead of leaving our encounters up to fate.
Just writing that statement makes my heart pound, my blood pressure rise, my emotions threaten. The guilt I still carry for the story you will hear trots forth obediently. I crave the presence of my children, to put eyes on them and assure myself they are okay.
If I hadn’t chosen to see him on purpose. Chemistry is one thing. Incidental meetings? Can’t be helped. But then I chose him on purpose.
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Our first date was to a university basketball game and a bar and grill afterwards with friends. We couldn’t keep our hands and lips off each other at the restaurant. Tobias was there with the friend group, and I caught disapproving glances from him all evening.
The next night, Sunday, we went to a restaurant, then came back to my house for more making out. Sammi was a little alarmed at the intensity of our nascent relationship, but she was reserved about her concerns for the most part.
On Monday night, we saw an Oscar-award nominated movie. I loved Thomas’ appreciation for good films and books, because in our small city in Texas, art-loving straight guys didn’t happen often. Back at the house after the movie during our make out session, Thomas told me he loved me. I didn’t hesitate when I said it back to him.
I had forgotten about any warnings I had heard regarding Thomas’ drinking or multiple relationships. I wanted nothing to do with reason. Later, when my life would center on intellect, knowledge, reason, argument, analysis, I would think of the early days with Thomas with physical pain and awe.
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