The Other Side(83)

I huff out what sounds like a laugh but is anything but. “I was going to kill myself. I’m not tough.”

“But you didn’t,” he reminds me. “And depression isn’t about weakness, it’s about battling and wanting to deaden the pain, not the person.”

Which reminds me. “How did you know when you came in my room and found me asleep with the pills that I hadn’t taken any?”

Before Johnny can answer, Cliff yells from the hall, “Because I knew you had the pills and I knew how many you had. I found them months ago. I go through your room when you’re not here, remember?”

I close my eyes and shake my head, but I’m kind of proud of him for admitting it out loud in front of Johnny and manning up. “I know. That needs to stop,” I yell back.

“It will,” Johnny answers with an authoritative edge to his voice. “Cliff and I had a long talk while you were sleeping.”

The front door opens and closes and I hear Cliff’s shuffling footsteps on the linoleum. “I also swapped out the sleeping pills for…what do you call it?” He snaps his fingers a few times to try to resurrect the word that’s evading him.

“Placebos?” Johnny and I say in unison—Johnny’s is said knowingly, and mine is suggested incomprehensibly.

He snaps one more time. “Yeah, I swapped them for placebos. Same number and color so you wouldn’t notice.” He sounds proud of himself. That’s new for Cliff because it’s not the jackass boasting he usually does.

“How did you get placebos?” I ask bewildered.

I hear Johnny clear his throat in fatherly disappointment, apparently this must’ve been part of this afternoon’s come-to-Jesus talk.

There’s hesitation before Cliff admits, “The dude who used to sell us weed sells other stuff too, mostly pills and acid. He mixes in placebos to stretch his inventory.”

“Industrious,” I deadpan.

“Right?” Cliff exclaims, as if he agrees with the compliment he thinks I just gave.

Johnny sighs in exasperation and I know he’s scrubbing his hands up and down his face like he does when he’s frustrated. “That was sarcasm, Cliff.”

“Oh,” Cliff says.

Johnny brings us back to the story and my question. “When we found you, Cliff told me about the pills and going through your room. He counted the pills and made sure they were all the same ones he’d swapped out. Pills and amount matched, so we knew you hadn’t taken anything. That you’d just fallen asleep.”

I’m nodding my head absently. Thoroughly stunned by his thoughtfulness. “You could’ve saved my life if I’d gone through with swallowing them, Cliff.”

His reply is delayed and quieter than usual. “Yeah, well you kind of saved mine too…so we’re even.”

I’m confused. “No, I didn’t.”

“The day you took the rap for me at the QuikMart. I would’ve gone to juvie and you knew that and you stepped in for me. I’m too pretty for juvie, Toby. It would’ve been ugly.”

I can’t help it and a chuckle silently vibrates in my chest. He’s trying to joke because this conversation is too serious for him to deal with, hell, it’s too serious for all of us to deal with, but we need this. We needed this a long time ago.

“Anyway, things changed that day. I realized some stuff. I don’t want to be a fuck-up. I don’t want to be like my pops. I don’t want to be in and out of jail my whole life. I’m not the smartest guy, I know that, but I want to graduate and get a job afterward. I want to make something of myself.”

This doesn’t sound like the Cliff I’ve known for the past year, but I say the only thing I can say because I mean it. “Good for you, Cliff. That’s all you.”

“When you’re used to being kicked down, I guess all it takes is that one person who comes along and stands up for you instead. That can change everything. Besides, now we’re cousins, which means we have to be bros, right?”

“I’m still not watching Sid and Nancy with you.” I sound serious, but he knows I’m just giving him a hard time. “I’ll try not to act like an asshole since you’re trying not to act like a dick.”

He laughs, but it sounds watery like he might be crying. “Deal.”

It’s quiet for a minute before Cliff says, “Johnny, we should go out in the hall, there are a few more people who want to talk to Toby.”

“What?” Johnny sounds weary but surprised.

Cliff pleads his case. “Yeah. I went and talked to a few people in the house earlier while you guys were discussing family stuff. People who I know care about Toby. I think he needs to hear them out.”

The chair Johnny is sitting on creaks under his weight and screeches on the linoleum when he stands. Then I hear the door open.

“Hi, Chantal,” Johnny’s greeting is friendly even though it’s after one o’clock in the morning now and I know he’s exhausted.

“Hey, Johnny. I want you guys to stay, you should hear this too. And Alice, you should come in here.” The nerves are evident, maybe not to people who don’t know Chantal well, but I can hear them.

More footsteps enter the room. “Hi, everyone. Hi, Toby.” I’ve thought it before, but sadness is all wrong in Alice.