The Enigma of the Spotless Mind - Chapter Two - When?
River’s finishing their note about whatever Thomas just said, nodding to let him know they’re still listening.
“I’ve tried not thinking about them, I really have,” he continues. “She told me exactly what she thought of me, and I do respect it. I mean, I have to, really, otherwise I’m just as bad as Dillon.”
River looks up at that, resting their pen against their pad and giving Thomas space to follow the thought.
“If I was him, I’d be following her around town, calling her forty times a day, demanding to be let back in…” he trails off, not sure how to end his sentence.
“But you’re not Dillon.” River offers. Thomas shakes his head emphatically.
“No, I’m not. I’m not him…I can’t help but feel bad about thinking of her, though. She clearly doesn’t want me to. It feels...intrusive, somehow.”
“You’re allowed to think about someone, Thomas. It’s not intrusive to remember someone.”
He knows River’s right, and the conversation seems to light a fire inside him. No, he’s not Dillon, but he can’t let this be it. He can’t let his last attempt to make things right be the way she remembers him.
He was thoughtless, only thinking about how lost and alone he suddenly was after the commun- cult burnt down. After Dillon had perished in the flames. He knew far before then that Dillon was a monster that deserved no remorse, but Thomas was still struggling to disconnect the man he’d been conned into believing in, and the grasping parasite he truly was. He couldn’t help but grieve at first, and he’d gone to Gemma far too soon, before he’d done the hard work of untangling the intricate web Dillon weaved in his brain. It had been a mistake. A big one. Maybe worse than the initial mistake of leaving in the first place.
But he’s done the work now, and he can see so clearly how false it all was. He needs Gemma to know how wrong he knows he was, how deeply sorry he is for it all. He doesn’t need her to take him back, he’d never expect that from her, but if there’s even the slightest chance she’d listen, he needs her to know he’s not deluded anymore. He’s seeing clearer than he potentially has his entire life.
“I think I’m going to knock her door again.”
River stiffens a little, which is confusing. They’re normally so relaxed and easy during these sessions. Even when Thomas broke down sobbing, as he uncovered the true depths of Dillon’s abuse, they’d simply handed him tissues and offered soft reminders that Thomas wasn’t there anymore, Dillon was gone, he was safe, before letting him continue.
The specs of fear in the corners of their eyes are unmistakable though. Thomas is more familiar with fear than most, he knows it when he sees it.
“Just the once!” he adds hurriedly, assuming River thinks he’s going to bombard his ex-wife all of a sudden. “If she doesn’t answer, it’s fine, and I won’t ever do it again, but I need to try and make things right. I need to give her some kind of closure.”
River gently taps their pen against their hand, eyes subtly flitting to their desk every now and then.
“It might be a better idea to write out what you want to say. That could be our homework for this week. We’ll go over what you’ve written, and you can decide what to do after that.”
Thomas shakes his head again. He’s never been surer of what he wants to do, and River’s helped him so much over the last year to feel comfortable making his own choices again.
“No, I’m going to do it. I have to, or I’ll regret it forever.”
River still seems conflicted for some reason, but eventually nodding.
The floral wreath bounces against the cottage door as it swings open, and Thomas is greeted to the auburn hair he’s come to associate with family. Leila looks so well nowadays, it’s hard to reimagine the bruises and cuts she collected throughout their time there. She probably thinks the same about him.
“Thomas!” She announces brightly, though her smile falls slightly when she takes in his fitted suit, the bunch of sunflowers, and the hand-knitted dinosaur plushie in his hands. Oh god, she probably thinks-
“It’s not for you, don’t worry!” Thomas steps in as she moves to the side. It’s a small routine that brings him great comfort. At least there’s someone he hasn’t alienated enough for them to bar him from their home. “I just need to calm my nerves a bit, so I thought I’d come here. If that’s alright?”
“Course, always.” She’s still perplexed, but leads him into the kitchen, where Phillip’s washing up this morning’s plates. Charlie’s still in his PJ's, busy rambling up at Phillip about a new space fact he’s learnt from his book – Thomas assumes, it’s normally something along those lines – when he spots Thomas and grins widely.
“Uncle Thomas!” He bounds over and squeezes his arms around his Mothers friend. It always shocks Thomas how willingly Charlie accepts his presence. Phillip made sense, he’d helped Leila destroy that house of horrors and brought her back to her son. Thomas had still been too cowardly, almost watching his only true friend be murdered right in front of him. Granted, his hands had been tied, just like Leila's, but he still held onto the guilt, even if Leila had told him he needn’t plenty of times by now. Besides, Charlie still didn’t know any of those details, so he supposes it makes sense he has such an innocent view of him.
“Uniform.” Phillip calls out, wiping his hands on a tea towel. Charlie scowls, though there’s no true annoyance behind it, before running up to his room to get ready for school.
Leila pulls out a chair for Thomas and nods for Phillip to put the kettle on.
“What’s all this?” she asks delicately. As Thomas explains, telling them who the sunflowers and plushie are actually for, he watches the colour drain from his friend’s faces. He gets it’s a long shot, and he’ll more than likely be turned away, but he’s accepted that. Why is everyone so worried?
“I’ll take them.” Phillip pipes up, placing the fresh mugs of tea on the table, taking his spot next to Leila. “I’ll tell her whatever you’re going to say as well.” He’s nodding deeply, like he’s trying to will Thomas to agree to this strange new plan. Thomas frowns.
“No. It should come from me. Shouldn’t it? If she tells me to fuck off again, I’d rather hear it myself.”
Leila’s worrying the amber stoned band on her ring finger, deep in thought. Phillip looks from Thomas, to Leila, then back to Thomas. Why’s he so at a loss?
“What?!” Thomas blurts out, tired of trying to read everyone’s mind.
Phillip stands suddenly and starts sifting through a kitchen drawer.
“Phillip, I don’t know if that’s a good idea-“
“He deserves to know.” Phillip finds whatever he’s looking for, pulling out a small postcard. He takes his seat again and inhales deeply, before sliding the note across the table to Thomas. Thomas’ frown deepens, turning the card so he can read it.
Ms. Prewett,
Gemma Brie-Arne has had Thomas Wright erased from her memory. Please never mention their relationship to her again.
Thank you.
Lacuna Inc.
Thomas’ brain shuts down. There’s nothing happening up there as he stares at the words. Leila bites on her thumb as they wait for Thomas to say something, looking at Phillip through the corner of her eye when it’s still silent. Phillip clasps his hand over hers, squeezing intermittently.
“Come to the farm this morning? I could use some extra hands for delivery.”
“Or you can do the school run with me and Charlie, and we’ll go get a coffee-“
Thomas is still staring at the postcard, as if he can alter what it says through vision alone. He watches Gemma's name slowly fade.
Leila pauses before giving him the answer.
“About eleven months ago.”
Right after he’d knocked. He hasn’t existed to her since she slammed that door shut.
He points to the company branding in the corner.
Both Leila and Phillip’s eyes widen like saucers.
“Thomas, please don’t do something rash-“
(Credit for these versions of everyone: @gemma-of-shropshire , @theonetruevisionary , and @assistant-and-lover . Thank you for making these characters even more dense and rich! Also, Charlie cameo, cause I couldn't help myself. [bloop]'s signify the memory being deleted.)
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