The Other Side(26)
“I’ll take it from here.” I’m not good at reassuring, but I’m trying my best.
“Sorry I had to wake you,” he apologizes.
“You didn’t. I don’t sleep much. Insomnia,” I explain.
He looks me over like he wants to say something, but he stops short and I’m left with a contemplative, “Good luck, Toby,” instead. I don’t know if he’s talking about Johnny, my insomnia, or something else altogether.
I nod and he leaves.
Cleaning up Johnny, the puke downstairs, and myself takes another half hour.
I doze for two hours before my alarm goes off to wake me for school.
Johnny’s still asleep when I leave and I’m grateful because I don’t want to have to face him and tell him what happened if and when he asks.
He probably won’t because avoidance is our game.
He’s getting even better at avoiding life and everything in it than I am.
That’s quite a feat.
Chapter Eleven
Different
Past, January 1985
Nina’s Protector
Ken is different.
In turn, Nina is different. They’ve been dating for four weeks and the changes in her are miraculous. The forced smiles are gone, replaced with real ones. I’ve watched his attention and compliments—which I’m generally reluctantly cautious of—breathe life into her. Transform her. Nina has never been a confident person. I’ve known her forever and her life has been hard. Early on, difficulty and cruelty were thrust upon her, out of her control. She grew up used to expecting the worst out of life, and the worst continued to find her.
I oftentimes liken Nina to driving past a car accident—I know that sounds awful, but bear with me. No matter how badly I want to cover my face with my hands and avert my attention from the wreckage, I can’t. I can’t because I love her. So, instead, I grip the first thing within reach tightly with both hands and squeeze until I’m white-knuckled, focus unblinking on the disaster, and scream at her to stop. Or to make changes. Or to pay attention.
But like I said, Ken is different.
He relaxes her. Which relaxes me. There’s no high alert Danger! Danger! status with him. Which in itself makes me a bit edgy because that’s what I’m used to, but I roll with it. Because he takes her to dinner. He brings her flowers. He picks her up from work. He tells her she looks pretty. It’s been sixteen years since anyone told her that other than Toby when he was five. Hearing it from your blood is different than hearing it from someone you’re romantically linked to.
Tonight, when he picked her up from work, the first words he spoke to her when she got in the car were: “I want you to move in with me. What do you say?” His hand cupped her cheek lovingly.
Her trust transuded into the palm of his hand. And she agreed instantly. “Okay.”
In that hasty agreement is the first niggling of Danger! Danger! I’ve felt in weeks. I know Nina is only looking for a way out of her mom’s apartment. She’s been living with her for months now and she yearns for independence. No thirty-one-year-old wants to live with their parent, but a series of poor choices, which I railed against loudly, put her there.
At her agreement a smile seeps into his cheeks; like a drop of ink dispersing through water it fans out gloriously until his face is animated and bright.
“Yeah?” he questions. There’s no surprise in his tone, in his expression, only joy. And maybe a little satisfaction. “This weekend?”
“Yeah,” she agrees with a smile that matches his.
Danger! Danger! is called off completely again. I think she should do it. I don’t say so, but I think getting away from her mom would be good for her. Her mother has always been controlling, manipulative, and a bad influence. She should have been protective, watchful, and guiding like me. Yes, I’m judgmental and a bit egotistical, it’s who I am. It’s then that the idea hits me: Nina should take Ken home to meet Toby. Toby and I are allies, an army of two who want nothing more than what’s best for Nina. I love that kid. And he’s like one of those police dogs trained to sniff out drugs; he can smell shady ten miles away. If Ken passes the Toby test, he’s golden.
Just like that Nina looks at Ken and says, “Can we go by my mom’s so I can change clothes?” Then she adds, “And you can meet my brother,” like she’s a mouthpiece for my thoughts.
Yes! I cheer quietly to myself.
Though his cheeks are still tugged back in a smile, the brightness snuffs out. I chalk it up to nerves when he reaches across the seat and squeezes her knee lovingly. “Okay. Sure, let’s go meet your brother.”
I study Ken closely when they pull up and park down the street from the Victorian on Clarkson. There’s a light sheen of sweat on his forehead and his expression is schooled and unreadable. My Sherlock Holmes hat is firmly in place and my eyes are narrowed as I try to figure him out.
Nina is fidgety, that’s nothing new, but anxiety is pulsing through her as she reaches for the handle and hesitantly pushes the creaky door of his old Chevelle open. When they come together on the sidewalk and join hands, I forget that these are two grown adults about to walk into a house and engage a fifteen-year-old boy. I know the only thing going through Nina’s mind as she shuffles along is how desperately she wants Toby to like Ken. It’s like this every time she dates someone new. Toby never thinks they’re good enough for her. He’s been correct every time. And Ken? I have no idea what Ken is thinking, but there’s no confidence in his gait. His usual swagger is gone, his steps aren’t fluid. As if hesitation is tripping him up.