The Other Side(28)

Toby repeats slowly, emphasizing every word like their importance is paramount: “What’s your favorite thing about her?” The pause that follows is short, like Toby’s patience for Ken. Toby glances pointedly at Nina before turning and stepping back into his room. One hand on the door, he looks over his shoulder at Ken and says sadly, “It shouldn’t take that long, Ken. That was an easy question.” The door shuts before Ken or Nina can reply.

Nina’s thoughts stall out.

It was an easy question! I echo loudly.

“What the hell was that about?” Ken asks angrily. “Is your brother always such a little prick?”

Nina is still in shock and coupled with letdown it feels oddly like betrayal. Nina’s happy for the first time in forever. Because of Ken. When she finally looks at Ken, all she can do is shrug pitifully. “I’m sorry.”

In those two hushed words, I’m brought back to all the times I’ve heard them uttered in that same tone. Sometimes it’s warranted, most times it isn’t. Nina has always been the type of person to apologize first and the vast majority of them are inserted needlessly into a situation to smooth things over. Saying, “I’m sorry,” to someone, when they’re the one who should be saying it to her instead, is a lifelong, chronic problem. Taking the blame for everything is a by-product of insecurity and a sense of worthlessness in Nina. Self-doubt has always been louder than her cheerleader…me. That’s always pissed me off.

The current I’m sorry hanging in the room is pulsing and building steam. It’s gingerly stroking Ken’s ego like cautious fingertips trying to calm a riled cat. But it’s working twofold on Nina. Despite me backing up Toby and yelling again, It was an easy question! to prompt, if nothing else, a quick counterargument to the pedestal she’s put Ken on, Nina takes the fork in the road she’s never taken. Resentment toward Toby is rising. And second by second, she’s embracing it. Dangerously welcoming it in. I know how dangerous this is, because Nina can hold a grudge like a champ. When resentment takes root, there’s no chance of weeding it from the garden. It’s there to stay.

Nina’s glassy eyes blaze at Toby’s door. “Help me pack. I’m moving in tonight.”

I know, in the moment, that Nina is making a bad decision. I’m the queen of hunches. Trust your gut is my motto, my epithet.

Ken is different, I remind myself.

Only this time it feels ominous, instead of reassuring.

Ken is different, I repeat.

Trust me! my gut agrees.

Ken is different.

Different.

Different.

Danger!

Danger!

Ken is different.





Chapter Twelve





Present, March 1987

Toby



Rap, rap…rap. The knocks are quiet like the person on the other side of the door is hesitant to initiate the contact. It’s early on a Friday, they’re being considerate. Considerate is alien in this building. In this part of town.

Which means it can only be one person.

Alice.

She’s standing in the hall when I open the door.

“Hi,” is the word I go with to let her know it’s me greeting her. There are so many other things on the tip of my tongue, but they would all involve spilling thoughts about her that are better left locked inside where only I can ponder them to the point of torture.

“Morning, Toby. I was hoping you would answer. Sorry it’s so early, but I’m headed to school and wanted to let you know that the toilet is acting up again. Taber says it’s the flapper thingy. He tried to fix it, but he thinks it needs to be replaced because the toilet won’t stop running. I would’ve called you this afternoon, but I have an appointment right after school.” She’s talking quickly and I want her to slow down so I have more time with her, but I realize Taber is probably waiting on her and I need to get going too.

“I’ll take care of it.”

“You’re the best. Thanks.” She’s already turned and is walking down the hall. “Sorry to rush off, Taber’s waiting in the van. Have a great day,” she calls from the stairs.

For the first time ever I almost reply with, “You too,” but my natural instinct to not respond to niceties wins out and I don’t.



As soon as I get home from school, before I even listen to the answering machine, I hoist the toolbox down from the top of the fridge, grab the master keys, and head down to apartment 2A to look at Alice’s toilet. Alice said she has an appointment, so I assume that means band practice. I’ll have the place to myself and be in and out. Maybe I can even get it fixed before they get home so it’s not a bother to them tonight.

Unlocking the door, I slip in and leave the door open. I head straight for the bathroom but stop mid-path through the living room when I hear noises coming from the bedroom on the left. Noises that shutter my eyelids and take a stab at my gut. The rhythmic squeak of bedsprings accompanied by ecstasy-induced moans and the deep rumble of unintelligible words—an in sync symphony of pleasure that fills me with boiling jealousy. For seconds I stand in shocked suspense, listening like a masochist…or a pacifist. I can’t decide which because the jealousy is raging and blending with my self-loathing. You could never have her. She’s too good for you. They belong together. Your days are numbered anyway, let them be happy. And then my inner monologue morphs into the familiar repetitive, all-consuming chant of my truth…