The Other Side(47)
“You deserve all of it,” I tell her. She does.
She pulls a hand from its hiding place under the pillow and rubs my forearm that’s resting on the bed next to her. “I know that now. So do you.”
I change subjects because this one is at an end. “Why don’t you live with your parents? I mean, I know you’re eighteen, but you’re still in school.”
She sighs, but it isn’t irritated, it’s tired like the thought of them drains her. “Do you want the short version or the long version?”
“I’ve got all night,” I tell her. I mean it. I would sit here all night and listen to her talk about anything.
“Where to begin?” she says, mostly to herself as she slips her hand down my forearm and slips her fingers between mine. The gesture isn’t suggestive; it’s friendly. “My parents are divorced. They never really got along. They argued a lot and I don’t ever remember seeing them hug or kiss as a kid. When Taber was in high school, he was kind of a hellion. He partied a lot, and when my mom found weed and pills in his dresser his senior year, she kicked him out. My dad didn’t agree with her parenting and that started World War III. Dad moved out and tried to get Taber into rehab. Taber refused because he wasn’t ready, he hadn’t hit rock bottom yet. Around the time the divorce was finalized I started having problems with my vision. You know how that part of the story goes.
“My dad got a promotion at work and was transferred to their Colorado Springs office where he met Suzanne and remarried. My mom lost her shit and became more tyrannical than before. She forbade Taber from her house and from seeing me, saying he was a bad influence. Of course that didn’t work because we just met up at the mall, or for lunch, or after school. He always kept in touch with me, and even though his life was really messed up, he always looked out for me. I couldn’t go live with my dad because I worried about Taber and didn’t want to be two hours away from him. My mom started taking me to a series of doctors. They all gave the same diagnosis. The same prognosis. She wouldn’t accept it. I saw twenty-four doctors the first year of my diagnosis. So not only was I struggling with losing my sight, I was struggling with my mom’s inability to accept it. To accept me. She obsessed about finding a doctor who could fix me.”
The conversation I overheard makes so much more sense now.
“Which made me feel like shit because adjusting to losing your sight is no picnic, but when your own parent doesn’t accept you the way you are, it’s crushing. I felt like a disappointment instead of a daughter. So, I started acting out: ditching school, drinking, smoking. Because if she didn’t think I was the same old Alice anymore, I was determined to not be the same old Alice anymore and really show her. That was short-lived because I didn’t like me like that either. So instead of acting out, I argued. A lot. I was bitter and jaded and started to hate myself. That was about a year ago. By that time, Taber met Inga and decided to go to AA. He got sober and secretly got me into a free counseling program offered through a church near my school. We aren’t religious, but they welcomed me anyway. He took me once a week for almost a year. My mom didn’t know.”
“Did it help?” I ask, knowing the answer must be yes.
“So much. But my mom wouldn’t give up on the new doctors, and I couldn’t deal with what life had in store with my blindness and her constant need to fix me. To fix what can’t be fixed. That’s when fate and Taber intervened.”
“What happened?”
“The band had been wanting to move to Denver and give the scene here a go, because we’d been getting a lot of gigs down here. Taber found this apartment and a job at the bar he works at all within a week. He called me and told me he wanted me to move in with him.”
“Your knight in shining armor,” I interject.
She smiles knowingly and corrects me. “My knight in leather and eyeliner.”
“Right,” I agree to accept the correction.
“Do you know why I wanted to drink tonight?” She sounds apologetic for bringing the conversation down.
“No, why?” I ask curiously. I know this isn’t the acting out she mentioned earlier. She’s way too even-keeled for that. Too responsible.
“I guess I just wanted to feel like a normal eighteen-year-old. The past two years have been a roller coaster. I feel like I’m finally in a good place. I like myself again.” She tries to smile, but it looks sad. “Taber is doing really well, he’s thriving in Denver. His girlfriend is great; I think they’ll get married as soon as she finishes nursing school. Our band is kicking ass; we have gigs booked for the next three months. I’ll be graduating soon and I’m so glad to get that behind me. But the one thing I’ve missed is having a friend who isn’t my brother or a bandmate. The friends I had in Fort Collins, we drifted apart over the past two years. I changed, I know I did. I couldn’t cope with me and they couldn’t either. It’s been months since I had a true friend. But with you, I feel like I’ve finally found one. You make me feel normal, Toby. I have fun with you because I can be myself.”
“You can always be yourself with me. I wouldn’t want you any other way,” I whisper.
“Thanks,” I can hear the smile in her voice. “What about your family? Why don’t you live with them?” she asks.