This Thing Between Us

“I could feel your absence like a pulse running up and down the right side of my body where you were supposed to be sitting.”

This simile highlights The Indescribable Intensity of Grief by comparing Vera’s absence to a “pulse,” evidence of one’s heartbeat and thus, ironically, proof that one is alive. In other words, her absence leaves him so emotionally raw that it feels like a physical presence, a strange sensation that suggests how much he longs for her still to be alive. The idea that someone’s death can manifest as a kind of life foreshadows the later reanimation of Brimley, Dr. Jacobson, etc., and speaks to the novel’s broader framing of grief as paradoxical.

“[Y]ou said talking with your mom was like talking to the comment thread for some article.”

This simile compares talking to Diane to speaking to the comments left by random people on the internet. Comment sections have a reputation for being full of things that people would be unlikely to say to someone’s face, so the comparison indirectly characterizes Diane as obstinate and inflexible. More broadly, it anticipates the symbol of the wall, which functions, among other things, as an image of how people interact with one another.

“At night I would wake up to these loud hammering noises coming from the front of our place, like a semitruck was being unloaded in our living room. Clanging metal. The noise would reverberate like a scream.”

Thiago uses two similes to describe the metallic noises he and Vera began to hear in their condo. While the first comparison is an overstatement meant to emphasize how loud the noises were—thus adding to their mystery—the second has a significant effect on the mood. These noises are not only strange but also ominous. People scream when they are frightened, and Thiago’s simile suggests that the couple had much to fear, though they didn’t know it yet.

“I never wanted the thing. My life was already run by apps. I hated having to say her name first before she would do anything. She made me think of HAL from 2001, down to her dulcet voice.”

Thiago was anti-Itza from the start, primarily because his employment is based completely on apps and technology. The idea that such things “run” his life hints at the possibility that the force possessing him is technological. The passage also contains one of many allusions to the AI technology in 2001: A Space Odyssey, and it foreshadows the Itza’s association with danger and human vulnerability. It is always listening, as the Alvarezes begin to suspect, highlighting The Horror of Technology and Surveillance.

“Since it dealt with public transit, local news kept up with the story, but no one ever tried to sensationalize it. Until the cops arrested the kid and it turned out he didn’t have any papers.”

Thiago is especially upset by the media’s attempts to use Vera’s death to dehumanize and vilify undocumented immigrants. When it emerges that Esteban Lopez is undocumented, this “meaning” is mapped on top of Vera’s death. Thiago is desperate to find some reason for Vera’s death, but it needs to be one that acknowledges her as an individual, not something that erases her individuality, as this does.

“It’s like being at a party and the one friend you know is suddenly gone.”

Thiago’s simile hints at The Indescribable Intensity of Grief. Going to a party where one knows only one other person can be disorienting, awkward, and uncomfortable; if that one person disappears, their friend can feel stranded, strange, and hopelessly out of place. This is just one of the ways that Thiago tries to put his grief into words.

“I get now why old cultures and native tribes kept rituals for death. You exorcised the grief with a ritual and it gave everyone something to do, a space to be sad, and after the bereaved lifted that boulder or pierced their scrotum or sipped that hallucinogenic tea, we could all agree that the dead had been sufficiently mourned. They were adequately remembered, and none of us would feel guilty for what felt like a lack of action on our part. Instead of feeling whatever this was. I feel it every day. Every day.”

Thiago’s use of the word “exorcised” darkens the text’s mood and foreshadows future possibilities. It suggests that grief can feel like an evil demon, something that takes a person over, possessing them until they hardly know themselves. This metaphor suggests both grief’s intensity as well as its destructive and identity-altering possibilities.

“Death to agendas, to the broader picture, the higher purpose.”

Despite Thiago’s desperation to find meaning in Vera’s death, he doesn’t feel anyone else has the right to do so. This highlights The Indescribable Intensity of Grief and shows how it can isolate a person, as Thiago believes that he—and Diane—alone have the right to decide what Vera’s death means.

“The kid’s name was Esteban Lopez, and his face was everywhere, chin pointed out slightly so his neck looked bigger in the mug shot than it actually was. He looked mean, dangerous […] Even the simplest Google search proved there were other photos of Esteban Lopez the media could have used.”

This description of the teenager responsible for Vera’s accident highlights the racist nature of media coverage of the event. The fact that someone chose to use a picture of Esteban that misrepresents his age, strength, and character—essentially trying to make him seem nefarious and dangerous rather than a child—alludes to a common media characterization of people of color. Thiago’s anger about this stokes his grief and makes him more emotionally vulnerable.

“I wanted to forge something big enough to kill the whole world.”

As more people seek to capitalize on Vera’s death—racist politicians, the person who set up the GoFundMe, the girl selling shirts with one of Vera’s tweets, etc.—the angrier Thiago gets. His horrible grief is compounded by rage and hate, further isolating him emotionally and fueling his desire to leave Chicago, an action that isolates him physically as well.

“I don’t want to get over anything, Thiago. I want to sink as far as it’ll take me.”

Diane is the only other person who seems to understand the depth of his grief. It is terrible and life-changing in the worst way, but she also describes a desire to allow it to consume her. This central tension contributes to Thiago’s downward spiral, as he can’t bear his grief but also can’t bear the thought of letting it go.

“The vet thought I would take care of him like your parents thought I would take care of you. ‘I’ve only got the one,’ your mom said at our wedding. ‘Treat her good.’”

Thiago’s guilty response to Brimley’s death, which was clearly an accident, indicates how likely he is to blame himself for things that aren’t his fault, especially when they are terribly painful events. His simile compares the dog to Vera, as he feels he was entrusted with the fortunes of both, and both perish in random accidents. This highlights one reading of the novel’s events: Grief is too painful, so Thiago turns to self-blame, which ascribes meaning to the accidents, making them easier to handle.

“I wasn’t anyone to tell her she needed to get back on the horse. But she was just as bad as the day you died four months ago, and it was putting a strain on her marriage, friendships, her work life.”

Thiago can recognize The Indescribable Intensity of Grief and its destructive effects in Diane’s life. However, he is unable to identify this devastating impact of grief in his own life. He feels his grief and its effects on his life are completely justified. Diane may be “just as bad” as she was immediately after Vera’s death, but Thiago is worse, and he cannot see it.

“I already loved him, and it hurt so bad to love something with you gone because you couldn’t experience this love with me. How, if Brimley thought I was okay, he would have loved you.”

Thiago’s inability to enjoy or be comforted by his relationship with Brimley emphasizes the intensity of grief. Rather than relishing his good luck at finding this loving companion, Thiago mourns yet another aspect of Vera’s death: She will never get to meet Brimley, nor will Brimley meet her. It’s another loss, another thing to grieve, and it shows how Thiago’s grief colors everything.

“This tree would grow and its roots would reach Brimley’s body and recycle him. The burial you wanted. It didn’t soften the blow of standing before another grave.”

Thiago’s attempt to give Brimley the burial Vera wanted for herself again highlights his intense grief. Thiago cannot separate anything in his life from his grief; it affects every relationship, every event, and every aspect of himself. This makes it invariably damaging and renders Thiago more emotionally vulnerable than ever.

“She had omen written all over her face. Her smile was as reassuring as a toilet bowl of bloody piss. Her silky hair hung off the chair as she stared daggers through me, exhaling smoke rings. ‘What do you want?’ I demanded. ‘It’s really quite simple,’ she said, waving her cigarette. ‘Pull me out of the wall. Pull me out of the wall.’”

In the cabin, when a book falls off the shelf, Thiago opens it to a marked page, and this is what he reads there. Word choices like “omen” are foreboding, and the simile that references a “toilet bowl of bloody piss” is both graphic and ominous. This does not sound like Vera, though Thiago is eager to believe that she is communicating with him.

“The wall cast a shadow on the snow, and it was there the ground yawned open, the roar of soil and snow cascading into a widening and lengthened hole, a deep brown orifice, a new grave, within seconds.”

Thiago’s personification of the earth renders this description even more foreboding and monstrous than it otherwise would be. The ground “yawn[s],” creating a new grave, and he compares the grave, via metaphor, to an “orifice,” or opening in a human body. This makes it seem like even the natural world is conspiring against Thiago.

“I’m not telling you to believe something even I don’t believe. I’m just telling you what’s happening. You saw the wall, the dog attacking me. The vet’s missing now.”

Thiago tells Diane that he knows the events he describes—some of which she witnessed—strain credulity. It doesn’t make sense that Brimley would come back to life, but his body is no longer in the grave Thiago dug. Acknowledging The Limits of Rational Control, Thiago says that he isn’t telling her what to believe because the facts simply do not align with their version of reality.

“Every mystery screamed to be solved. The wall, Brimley, the falling books, my dreams. And I needed to make sense of them, trace a story out of the strangeness. One thing meaning another […] Interpret, interpret, interpret.”

Thiago throws himself into trying to figure out what is going on and why. While trying to solve the mystery, he experiences some relief from his grief, though it actually prevents him from confronting and dealing with his feelings; this is another way in which grief is a “wall,” as the actions it seems to demand are actually barriers to overcoming it. The “myster[ies]” he references also emphasize the limits of rationality, which overlaps with the novel’s portrayal of grief.

“I’m done, Diane. I’m sick of all of this. I’m sick of being alive without her […] Don’t say I have friends and family who love me. I’m not going to live for their sake. I’m tired. More tired than I’ve ever been. It’s in my bones. I don’t want to keep going. I don’t want to see how this plays out.”

Thiago is so exhausted by grief that he develops suicidal ideation. Nothing else seems to matter, and nothing can convince him that life without Vera is worth living. The more his grief isolates him, the worse he feels, which isolates him further, leading to a vicious cycle of despair and self-destruction.

“It was like your mother shot into the fabric of existence and created a vacuum.”

The strange events concerning Brimley are compounded by what happens after Jacobson’s apparent possession, when Diane firing the gun at Jacobson’s head rips an apparent hole in reality. The created space sucks in everything around it, including stripping the skin right off Diane’s fingers. This emphasizes The Limits of Rational Control, but it also figuratively illustrates Thiago’s grief, which “sucks in” everything in his life.

“[These are] [m]en who worked for their paychecks and held certain beliefs about how the world worked, and their victim was talking movie nonsense.”

Thiago tells the police the truth about the events that have recently taken place involving Brimley and Jacobson, though he understands why they don’t believe him. Everything he’s been experiencing seems logically impossible. The police officers deal with so many difficult things in their day-to-day work that Thiago understands why they do not want to question The Limits of Rational Control.

“I’d stick my arm out and try to will something across the room to float into my hand, and when it didn’t, I knew this was real, not that the real followed any kind of logic anymore either. A man with a black hole for a face existed in the real world.”

Thiago no longer trusts logic or reason. Everything that has happened since Vera’s accident and death has highlighted The Limits of Rational Control. He wants to continue to believe that he can tell the difference between being in a dream and being awake, but after all he’s seen, he knows his past beliefs do not hold true.