Thunderland (27 page)

Hands locked together, they stared at each other.

“I am a man.” Thomas gazed at his father, who stood a few inches shorter than he did. “My own man.”

Big George spat in his face.

“Look,” Thomas said, not wiping away the spittle as it slid down his cheek. “You’re seventy years old and hobbled by a stroke. I’m thirty-eight, and I can bench-press four hundred pounds. If I wanted to, I could kick your ass all over this nursing home without breaking a sweat. Before I give in to the urge to do that, you better sit down.”

Thomas released Big George’s hands.

His father glared at him. His thin chest heaved.

Then, scratching his bald head, he turned and shuffled to the bed. He sat on the edge of the mattress.

Standing over his conquered father, Thomas felt jubilant. He had dared to confront Big George, a man who had never backed down from anyone, and he had won. But it was not over yet. To truly break free from his father’s controlling shadow, he needed to do two more things.

“Now we’re going to have a talk,” Thomas said. He sat in the overstuffed chair, across from Big George. “This time, you’re going to listen to me. You won’t interrupt me until I’m finished.”

Big George said nothing. He picked lint off his pajamas.

“I know you’re listening. You’ll definitely hear what I’m going to say. I’m selling The House of Soul.”

Big George jerked up. “No.”

“Yeah, I see that got your attention,” Thomas said. “I bet you don’t believe me. But it’s true, I’ve decided to sell The House of Soul. I don’t need that place in my life anymore.”

“You can’t do it. I won’t let you.”

“You can’t stop me. You made me the owner, remember? You can’t do anything but stand aside and watch me sell it.”

“Why do you want to sell it?” Big George said. “What’s wrong with you? That’s your business, boy. Do you know how many black men dream of having a business? Do you know how fortunate you are?”

“Maybe I am fortunate to have the restaurant. But I don’t have peace of mind. I’m good at the job, but I never wanted to own a restaurant. It was your dream, not mine. You forced me to live your dream. I refuse to do it anymore.”

Big George glowered at him. “You’re going to live your own dream, huh?”

“That’s right.”

“You’re going to try to be an architect, ain’t you?”

“Very good, Dad. I’m surprised you remember.”

“How the hell could I forget? That was all you ever talked about when you were a kid.”

“I’ve always wanted to be an architect,” Thomas said. “Remember those drawings I’d put in notebooks when I was younger? Those notebooks you’d make me throwaway?”

“I remember,” Big George said. “When I made you throw that shit away, I was trying to do you a favor and save you the trouble of learning the hard way that you ain’t got what it takes. As I see now, I was wasting my damn time.”

“I don’t expect you to support my decision,” Thomas said. “But I plan to attend college, get my degree, and go forward from there. It’ll take a few years-and a lot of hard work-but I’m gonna do it.”

“You’re betraying me,” Big George said, and actually managed to appear stricken. “You know that, you ungrateful bastard? After all I’ve done for you, you do this to me. Betrayal!”

“Let’s not talk about betrayal. As far as I’m concerned, you betrayed me the day I was born.”

Big George’s wounded look deepened.

Thomas, on the other hand, felt as if an enormous burden had eased off him. His father’s injured pose did not worry him, for it was just that: a pose. A skilled manipulator, Big George could fake any emotion he thought would help him get what he wanted. He wanted Thomas to keep the restaurant so he could continue to live his fantasy through him. If making Thomas feel guilt-ridden would help him accomplish that goal, he would put on an act worthy of an Oscar nomination.

“You might as well give up the act,” Thomas said. “You won’t make me feel guilty about this.”

Instantly, Big George’s pitiful expression changed to reflect what he really felt, which was anger. “What the hell brought all of this about? Are you doing drugs? Yeah, that’s it. You’re messing with that crack shit, ain’t you?”

“No. I’ve just been doing a lot of thinking the past few days.

At last I know who I am, where I’m going, and what’s most important to me. It took a long time, but I’ve finally become a real man.”

Big George rolled his eyes.

“There’s one last thing,” Thomas said.

Big George grunted. “What?”

“For my entire life, I’ve hated you.”

“I know that, boy. I don’t give a damn. So why are you telling me?”

“Well, I don’t think I hate you anymore.”

Big George chuckled. “Oh, you love me? Is that part of your new life, too? Get a new job, then start putting on a bullshit love act for your old man?”

“No, that’s not it. I don’t hate you anymore because I’ve released the hate, let it go. It was hurting me more than it was you—controlling my life.”

Big George nodded listlessly.

“Although I don’t hate you,” Thomas said, “I don’t love you, either. I don’t like saying that, but I’m being honest. You never did anything to deserve my love, Dad, even though I tried everything to get love from you. So for the rest of our relationship, I’m just going to be
tolerating you.”

Big George had closed his eyes.

“I know you’re listening,” Thomas said. “I know you really don’t give a damn about how I feel. But I had to tell you. If by some miracle you develop into a normal human being with normal feelings, you’ll know what you have to overcome to win me over.”

Big George yawned.

Thomas stifled the urge to laugh at his father’s childish antics. Jesus, this man was pathetic. How had he lived in fear of this poor excuse for a man?

The weight that his dad had burdened him with for all of those years had departed. For the first time ever, he felt free. When he stood, he had to check the sudden desire to leap into the air and click his heels together like a happy cartoon character.

“By the way, remember I told you that Linda said she’s divorcing me?”

His eyes opened. “Yeah. I hope she goes through with it.”

“Anyway, I’m going to try to convince her to give me another chance.”

“Gonna feed her some good lies, like I would do?”

“No, I’m going to admit that I made a big mistake,” Thomas said. “I’m going to apologize. I’m going to beg her to forgive me. I’m going to promise that I’ll
never do it again. I watched you do that routine with Mama whenever you made a mistake. I remember all the steps.”

“Like father, like son,” Big George said.

“Not anymore, Dad. Because unlike you, when I talk to my wife, I’m going to be
sincere,
“he said, and turned away from his father and walked out.

At Brains’s house, in the den, Jason recounted the carnival incident for Brains and Shorty.

“That’s amazing,” Brains said. Sitting on the recliner, he regarded Jason with awe. “Falling off that Ferris wheel without a single bruise to show for it. Incredible. Only because you
imagined
yourself falling safely.”

“Yeah, that’s how it seemed to work,” Jason said from his place on the couch. “But I didn’t get a chance to see if I could do other stuff there, just by using my imagination. The next time any of us are in Thunderland, we’ll have to try it. I mean, if it really works, it could help us. It’s power.”

Perched on the arm of the sofa, Shorty said, “Yeah, maybe so, but it ain’t shit compared to the Stranger’s power. Man, he comes out of a Ouija board and raises hell, he goes around invisible leaving gifts for you, he calls you on the phone from who knows where, he pulls us into some dream world where he runs the show, and
now
he’s turned into your girlfriend. Shit, that’s power, man. How the hell can we beat that?”

“We can do two things,” Brains said. He pushed up his glasses on his nose. “The Stranger’s said that he wants to fulfill Jason’s secret wishes, and he’s done two things for Jason so far. My guess is that he’ll try to give Jason a third wish, too. The Stranger seems to consider himself a genie or something like that, and you know that genies always grant three wishes.”

“I wish this guy
was
a genie, man,” Shorty said. “I’d rub the magic lamp and put his ass back in there.”

Brains chuckled. “Anyway, assuming that Jason has another wish to be granted, if we can predict Jason’s next wish, maybe we can set a trap for the Stranger.” He looked at Jason. “Get it?”

“I get it,” Jason said. “But I have no idea what my next wish is. The only thing I’d really thought about was getting that bike. Sure, I fantasized about doing it with Michelle, but I wasn’t dreaming about it all the time or anything. I don’t really know what he’s going to do next.”

“Don’t you wish for a million bucks?” Shorty said. “Or to take a trip to the moon, something like that?”

Jason shook his head. “Sorry. No.”

Shorty shrugged and looked at Brains. “Forget that, then. Okay, Brains, you said we could do two things. What’s the other one?”

“You’ll say it’s crazy,” Brains said.

“It can’t be any crazier than everything else we’ve been through,” Jason said. “Go ahead and tell us.”

“Okay. You should fall out of a tree again, Jason.”

Shock propelled Jason off the couch. “What?”

Brains spoke calmly. “When you fell out of the tree in March, you went into a coma that erased your memory of the Stranger. Basically, falling out of the tree somehow knocked the Stranger
out
of your conscious mind. If you fall again, maybe you’ll knock the Stranger back
into
your conscious thoughts. You’ll reverse the memory block by reliving the accident. Understand?”

“No, I don’t understand at all.” Jason returned to the sofa. “That’s the nuttiest thing I’ve ever heard, Brains. You want me to go into another coma?”

Brains shrugged. “You might not go into a coma this time.”

“Right, I might go into a casket,” Jason said. “No, I’m not doing it. What do you think, Shorty?”

“You want me to be honest?” Shorty said.

“Yeah.”

“You should do it,” Shorty said.

“Are you serious?” He stared at Shorty, then at Brains. They appeared sane and reasonable. Why, then, were they suggesting that he take such a foolish risk?

“Want to know why?” Shorty said. His voice hardened. “Because the Stranger’s a mean motherfucker, that’s why. Remember how he tore up Brains’s room when you guys used the Ouija? Remember how he scared the mess out of me and Brains when you were hypnotized? Remember how he’s been playing with us, teasing us, since all of this shit started? I know, he acts like he’s this great old buddy of yours, granting you these wishes and all of that shit-but he’s got a mean streak, man. He’s coldblooded as hell, and he’s going to really start showing it soon. I can feel it. You should take that fall before he hurts someone.”

Jason sat in silence, soaking up Shorty’s words.

Brains and Shorty watched him, equally silent.

“All right, I guess I see what you mean,” Jason said. “I’m worried that the Stranger might hurt someone, too. But what if I jump out of a tree, hit my head, black out, wake up, and still don’t remember anything about him? Or what if I knock my head hard and black out—and go into a coma and never wake up again? I’m not sure I can take the risk.”