The Other Side(49)
“I like it.” I do. It’s sewn by hand and the seams are crooked. It’s imperfect. Like everything in life. My eyes are getting heavy. I can’t fall asleep with her. I have no idea if I lash out when my nightmares come to terrorize and I don’t want her near them. “I should go, Alice.” The words are muffled even to my own ears.
She tightens her grip on my arms and whispers, “Just five more minutes, Toby. I don’t want you to leave yet.”
“You need to sleep.”
“I need a reason to lose sleep more,” she counters and her voice trails off.
I smile at her admission and relax because this feels so good being here with her.
She relaxes too.
“What have you always wanted more than anything else, Toby?” It sounds dreamlike and far away.
The answer is easy, but the words are hard for my sleepy mouth to form. “To be someone’s hero.” I don’t know if I only think the words or if they made it out in the open to her.
I wake several hours later, groggy and disoriented, but calm. No nightmares. And then I feel Alice in my arms and realize I did exactly what I intended not to do and fell asleep in her bed. Disentangling myself from her, I ease off the mattress, trying not to wake her. A quick read of the alarm clock on the nightstand tells me it’s 4:37 a.m. I grab the near-empty bottle of vodka and walk as quietly as I can to the front door and let myself out, making sure the door is locked behind me. I throw the bottle in the dumpster outside like she wanted and return to apartment 3A. It’s dark and silent except for the symphony of lumbering snores coming from behind both closed bedroom doors. After using the bathroom, I unlock my door, undress, and slide into my sleeping bag, thoughts of Alice, and deep restful sleep. No nightmares. Only Alice-induced calm.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Present, April 1987
Toby
“Cliff said you watch Joey on Tuesday nights while Chantal works,” Johnny says, his back to me while he butters a piece of toast to go with the cereal he’s eating for dinner.
“Yeah,” I answer quietly.
I assess my food situation in the fridge before closing it and by default reach for the loaf of bread on the counter and my go-to jar of peanut butter in the cabinet above the sink. I can feel his eyes on me as he turns, bowl in hand, and rests his back against the counter to dig into his Raisin Bran. I prepare two sandwiches in record time because though this is casual, it feels…inquisitive. Sober Johnny is chatty. I don’t think I like it. I stack the sandwiches, wrap them in a paper towel, and head for the door since my bedroom is already locked. My backpack is slung over my shoulder, prepared to sit in the corner of Mrs. Bennett’s living room, the homework inside ignored and put off until Chantal gets home around midnight and I come back up here to do it. I don’t know why I bring it with me anymore.
“How old is he now?” Johnny asks after crunching into his toast and talking through it, the crumbs dusting his beard and the front of his flannel shirt.
I’m distracted by how burned his toast is when I answer, “Seven months.” It must taste like ash though he doesn’t seem to notice.
He shakes his head like he can’t believe it. I guess being nonstop drunk makes the passage of time unreliable and indefinite. “Wow,” thankfully is all he says as my hand finds the doorknob on the door leading out to the hall.
Coincidentally, as I pull on it, someone else is pushing his way in. I hear Cliff before I see him.
“I’ll see if he’s home,” Cliff calls.
Alice’s voice drifts in from the hall. “Thanks.”
When Cliff’s eyes meet mine, he’s smiling that smile that I know is going to end in trouble for me. I’m really beginning to resent Cliff. “The hot chick from downstairs is looking for—”
I cut him off because I have no patience for him anymore. “—Alice. She has a name, Cliff.”
“Hey, Toby,” Alice greets when she hears my voice.
I squeeze past Cliff into the hall but can’t close the door because he’s standing in the way. I don’t want to initiate conversation with ears listening, but I don’t have a choice. “Hey, Alice.”
“We’re heading to band practice and I wondered if maybe you wanted to come and watch. We’re going to play that song I’ve been working on for the first time as a band, and I wanted you to be there since you helped with the lyrics.” She looks nervous to ask.
“Don’t you have to watch the kid tonight?” Cliff asks from over my shoulder as if he’s part of this discussion. It’s one of my biggest pet peeves about him—he sticks his nose in everyone’s business.
I reach back to pull the door shut and he doesn’t budge. The look on his face is innocent, I wonder if he knows he’s being a douche. The look on my face is murderous. Johnny sees it and clears his throat before his voice rumbles low with authority. “Cliff, shut the damn door and go get started on your homework.” He almost sounds like a parent—he’s been working on it.
“Watch the kid?” Alice asks as the door finally closes with a benevolent click.
The boundary eases my anxiety slightly. Until I have to answer her question. I’ve avoided telling Alice about Joey. About Chantal. I never expected to be in this situation, to care about someone and what they thought about me. I don’t want to be judged and I know that sounds shitty and makes me a hypocrite because I judge people all the time, but… “Joey,” I answer because I have to say something.