The Other Side(22)
Stroking the hair on the back of my head, she nods in agreement.
And then Alice starts to sway, and before I know it, we’re slow dancing to U2 in the middle of Wax Trax on a Sunday afternoon. My eyes are still wet and hers are still red.
Despite everything, I don’t care what anyone thinks because this is mine.
Until the song ends and I open my eyes to everyone staring at us or diligently trying hard not to. I can’t decide which is worse.
As if Alice notices the tension swell in me, she whispers in my ear, “I should get home, Toby.”
Grabbing her cane, I lead her out the door and give her directions so she can lead us back to the Victorian on Clarkson, that way she’ll be able to come back here on her own anytime she wants. I also add that this isn’t the safest neighborhood after dark and she should avoid going out alone then.
Taber is sitting on the front steps when we approach the house. His arms are folded, resting on his knees, and his forehead rests on his arms. He’s a still frame of worry until he lifts his head, sees Alice, and every inch of him relaxes.
“Getting to know the neighborhood?” he asks. The casualness of the question is telling. It’s trusting, knowing, supportive, and thoughtful.
“Yeah. Toby took me to a record store a few blocks away. It’s called Wax Trax, you’ll love it,” Alice answers as Taber pulls her into a hug.
“A record store? Perfect,” are the words Taber’s mouth says. Are you okay? is the question his hug asks.
“Is she gone?” Alice asks in answer.
He releases her. “You know how much Rachel enjoys quality time alone with me.” He tries to sound light when he says it, and then adds, “The conversation after you left was riveting, we chatted about cross-stitch and puppies over coffee for an enjoyable hour. I didn’t want it to end, but sadly, she had to get to work.”
A smile breaks out on Alice’s face and it reminds me why Taber deserves her. He saves her from sadness. I am sadness. “She hates dogs. And coffee.”
“Does she at least still have a deep and wholesome love affair with cross-stitch?” Taber asks to prolong Alice’s smile.
She answers on an amused snort. “The deepest.”
“Thank God or my lies would have no merit.” That’s where he leaves it and turns to face me mouthing the words, Thank you, before he asks, “You like music, Toby?”
I nod and add, “Yeah,” to include Alice in the conversation.
“Our band plays Saturday night, you should come. Alice is amazing.” He glances at Alice and smiles knowingly when her cheeks brighten and blush at the compliment.
“Yeah?” When I realize that sounded like I’m questioning her talent instead of the fact that he’s inviting me to their show, I add a quick, “Okay.”
Alice smiles but says nothing.
“Listen, I hate to bring this party to an end, but we really need to get to band practice,” Taber says apologetically.
Alice nods and reaches out until her hand makes contact with my sleeve. Pulling me to her, she wraps me in a hug and whispers in my ear, “Thank you for Wax Trax…and the dance…and for not leaving me alone to get lost in my thoughts.”
My grip on her is awkward given our audience; it feels forced and unnatural. The opposite of how this felt less than twenty minutes ago. I want to melt into her and bury my face in her hair. Instead, I’m rigid and distant. A boyfriend looking on will do that. I’m also starting to sweat. I can’t ignore the thank you when she’s hugging me though, so I repeat what she said about Simon Le Bon in the store.
“You aren’t truly doing life justice if you haven’t experienced Wax Trax.”
She gets the reference and smiles when she releases me.
“Ready?” Taber asks Alice. “Our gear is already in the van.”
“Yup,” she answers, before she adds, “Bye, Toby.”
“Bye.” One word. It doesn’t feel like enough after all she’s given me today. I’m suddenly plunged back into reality when I hear Taber speak.
“Later, Toby.”
When I pry my eyes from Alice and dart them to Taber, he mouths, Thank you, again while he pokes out an elbow and prods Alice gently with it. I think he’s messing with her until she grips his bicep and he leads her down the sidewalk to an old panel van that’s beat to hell. It’s white and says Bob’s Appliance Repair on the side in faded red, cursive letters.
As I walk back inside, I’m kicking myself for accepting the invitation for Saturday night. I don’t have any spare money for a ticket. I don’t have any spare courage to actually show up. And I don’t have any spare hope that I can do friendship worthy of Alice.
Because I don’t do friendship.
I’m counting out, that’s a bad time to invite people in.
That thought opens the door to guilt and it stampedes me in a relentless barrage.
Guilt that I’ll let her down.
Guilt that I’ll hurt her.
Guilt that I like her as much as I do.
Guilt that she has a boyfriend who’s perfect for her.
Guilt that I can’t stop thinking about that Siouxsie and the Banshees T-shirt.
Guilt that I felt more today with her than all of my recent Friday nights rolled up into one.
Guilt that I’m even thinking about any of this because I’m a piece of shit who only has eighty-eight days left.