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James is a murderer. Despite the strides he feels he’s made over the years, the amends he’s tried to make to Mary and her memory, the daughter he’s struggled to raise on her behalf. Despite all of that, James still considers himself to be a murderer.
In darker moods that do still crop up from time to time, James thinks maybe he made the wrong choice, maybe he should have driven into the lake and ended everything. It’s too late now that he has Laura depending on him to at least be a passable parent—and he aims for better than that, he wants to give her every opportunity, not just because he took Mary from her. Regardless, he can’t kill himself now.
James is fairly certain that Travis knows, or at least suspects, his darker thoughts, because the trucker makes it a point to check in on him when he’s passing through. Travis is also all too willing to take advantage of James’s sense of responsibility when he offloads a shell-shocked-looking man into James’s care.
“I can’t take him on the next leg of my trip,” is the justification, “but I can pick him up in two weeks when I swing back through here.”
Murphy, as his new houseguest is known, accepts the suggestion of a shower and a fresh set of clothes readily. James leaves him to it, thankful that Laura is off at college, meaning one less potential worry for him.
From the kitchen, James can hear Murphy hesitate after coming downstairs, so James goes looking for him. He finds the other man examining the photos in the entrance hall. There's a shot from one of Laura's early piano recitals that's caught his eye.
"You've got kids?" Murphy asks softly. There's a heavy emotion that James can't pinpoint weighing in his words.
James nods. "Just the one. She's in college now."
Murphy nods back. His gaze catches on the wedding photo as he turns toward his host. "Divorced, or…?"
"Dead," James answers stiffly. Even after all these years he's still unwilling to phrase it more gently. Mary didn't pass away, he murdered her with his own hands.
Murphy falls quiet, unsure where to take the conversation. His stomach growls, startling both of them.
James gestures to guide his guest into the kitchen and puts together something simple to eat. Murphy eats the basic fare with appreciation more suited to a five star restaurant. James sits across from him and watches.
—
James doesn’t ask many questions. He knows enough: Murphy went through the twisted version of Silent Hill. Whatever he did, whoever he was, Murphy doesn’t strike him as dangerous and they both went through the same kind of hellish trials.
Murphy isn’t terribly forthcoming about himself. James has learned that Murphy was married, but is now divorced—Murphy’s ex-wife was still alive the last time he checked—and he had a son, though Murphy is much more tight-lipped about him.
Murphy asks enough questions for both of them.
Among other things, Murphy manages to pry out of James that Mary has been dead for over ten years, that Laura was adopted, that James doesn’t drink, and that both James and Travis have been to the nightmare that is Silent Hill—though James suspects Murphy had heard that last part from Travis already.
—
“Do you play?” Murphy asks one day, sitting at the upright piano—an old wedding gift from Mary’s parents. He’s completely ignored the stack of sheet music and songbooks on top of it, and instead been idly tapping out tunes by ear, or trying to at any rate.
James shakes his head. “Mary did.” He doesn’t feel the need to explain that Laura plays as well, not when Murphy’s already seen the photographs of that.
—
“When you went to that town...were there other people?”
James glances up from the newspaper to look at where Murphy is hovering awkwardly in the doorway. He answers with a nod.
“Were they...were they real? ” There’s something in Murphy’s tone that tells James he wants the answer to be no.
“Yes,” James says quietly. “Most of them were.”
“Most of them?”
James sighs deeply. “There was one who was a manifestation of the town, same as the monsters. But the others were just people like us, on a journey dealing with their...guilt.”
“What happened to them?”
James pauses, the images of Eddie’s body lying motionless, Angela’s resigned expression on the fiery staircase, and even Maria repeating his name as she faded away passing through his mind.
“They died,” he answers simply.
Murphy is clearly unsatisfied with this reply, but he doesn’t pry for once.
—
Travis calls ahead to let them both know that he’ll be coming through to pick Murphy up. So James and Murphy wind up sitting in a booth at a rest stop diner, waiting for the trucker to join them. James stares at the menu, not really reading it.
Travis arrives, sliding into the same side of the booth as Murphy. He smirks at James, then smiles broadly as their waitress comes over, coffee pot in hand.
"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes," he declares to the waitress, claiming the unused coffee cup in front of Murphy as his own.
—
Travis dominates the conversation with an easy charm. James was never talkative and Murphy seems content to let Travis take the lead.
Once they finish the meal, Travis pays for the whole thing. The least he can do, he says, to repay James for hosting Murphy.
The three of them head out with Travis in front. Outside the sky is cloudy, but there’s no sign of fog or rain, something all the men are grateful for. Murphy clearly considers something as James and Travis turn to their goodbye.
“Does it get easier?” he blurts out, causing the other two men to turn toward him. “Dealing with...where we were, what we saw. Does it get easier?”
Travis and James glance at each other before Travis takes the initiative.
“With time,” he states. “But you’ll probably never fully recover. The town pulled out your deepest traumas and darkest demons and forced you to confront them head on, then once it decided you were done, it spat you back out again. All you can do is try to move forward day by day.”
Murphy looks like he wants to argue, but there’s nothing to say. He’s seen firsthand that James keeps a baseball bat next to his bed, a flashlight clipped to his keys, and a shotgun locked in his closet. And the fact that Travis continues to seek connections with his fellow survivors proves that he hasn’t completely moved past his experiences either.
They stand in silence for a bit, none of the men sure where to take that conversation, until Travis takes in a deep breath and announces "Well, it's about time we hit the road, Murph."
Murphy nods before turning back to James. "Thanks for everything," he says.
"Sure," James replies.
Murphy takes a moment, his face clouded as he thinks, then he says "Take good care of Laura, James."
"I will," James promises, it's easily made since he has no intention of doing otherwise.