The Other Side(86)

“I know. And I will.” I will. After tonight’s unearthing of secrets I know I’m not alone and that kind of changes everything.

She rests her head on my shoulder again. She’s tired.

“How was your show tonight?” I ask.

She shrugs. “We didn’t play.”

I stiffen reflexively because I suspect it’s my fault.

She must feel it because she rubs my back. “I came to see if I could persuade you to come with us around four o’clock and Johnny told us what happened.” Her chest rises and falls exaggeratedly with the pause. “I was a mess. So was Taber. We canceled.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper again.

“Don’t be. People we love are more important than a gig. There will be other gigs. There will never be another Toby Page.”

I don’t know what to say, but I don’t let that stop me. “I know I’m a mess, Alice. And that I don’t deserve someone like you, but after I deal with all the shit that’s going on inside my head and get some help, can we start over?”

“You’re not a mess, Toby, you’re human. One of my favorite things about you is that you feel completely and you care endlessly. You just need to start talking. If you need me to wait and give you some space while you figure this out, I’ll do it. But I’m not the type of person who abandons people while they’re going through tough stuff. You don’t scare me, Toby Page. People aren’t perfect. It’s not about loving them when it’s easy and convenient; it’s about loving them even more when it’s hard.”

“I’m so tired, Alice.” Mind, body, memory, nerves, reasoning, will—it’s all tired.

She presses her lips to the underside of my jaw and whispers, “I know. Someday soon you won’t be though, I promise.”

I know I shouldn’t ask but… “I don’t want you to leave.”

“I can stay.”

“I can stay,” I repeat it quietly. Three words that mean something completely different than they did yesterday. I’ve given myself permission to stay. I don’t have to leave. “Should we sleep out on the fire escape? We can share my sleeping bag.”

“Absolutely.” Her eyelids are drooping, but her agreement is ardent.

Releasing her, I kiss her lips softly. A quick peck. “I’ll grab the sleeping bag and my pillow.”

“I’m going to run down to my apartment. I need to grab something and let Taber know I’m staying with you tonight. I’ll meet you outside in a minute.” She’s at the door before I can say anything.

While I’m waiting outside for Alice, I pull my wallet out of my pocket and take the familiar slip of worn paper from it. The Count-Out. Negative one day. I made it to the other side. The paper is soft and rubbed through in spots from being folded and unfolded so many times and slid in and out of my wallet for two years. When I tear it in half, it surrenders without resistance. I tear it again and again until it’s nothing but confetti, and then I let it fall to the ground three stories below.

When Alice climbs the ladder, I’m teetering on the edge of sleep. “I’m right here,” I whisper while reaching out to gently touch her calf.

She responds by reaching down for my hand and letting me guide her into the sleeping bag next to me. It’s warm out tonight, so I have it unzipped. There’s plenty of room because I’m hanging halfway out of it so she’ll be comfortable. Lying on her side, she faces me and I do the same until our noses are touching. And then she pushes play on her Walkman and holds one headphone near her ear and I hold the other half near mine.

As the first notes of what I know is going to be The Cure’s new album come to life in my ear, Alice whispers sleepily, “Are the stars out, Toby?”

My eyes are closed, but I know the answer because I looked at the sky the moment I stepped outside. It’s the first thing I do every time I walk outside when it’s dark now. “They’re all out and they’re breathtaking. Like you.”

Her response is a kiss. It’s slow and sleepy, but even minutes before her body is sure to surrender to rest, she’s intrepid and deliberate and loving.

As Robert Smith sings about touching the sky, I breathe the words I’ve felt, feared, and ignored for weeks, “I love you.”

Alice’s lips twist into a slight, knowing smile against my mouth. “Remember the first time you took me to Wax Trax and I asked you what made your pulse race, Toby?”

“Yes,” I whisper against her lips.

“Were you describing me, the same way I was describing you?”

“Yes,” I repeat.

Her smile grows. “That’s the day I fell in love with you.” I kiss her as she says, you.

The tug of sleep is relentless and before I give in to it, I murmur, “Most nights I have nightmares. Sometimes I cry out in my sleep. If that freaks you out, you don’t have to stay.”

“Sometimes I wet the bed.” She’s trying to lighten the mood and make me laugh.

“No, you don’t,” I counter.

“You don’t scare me, Toby.” Her reassurance, once again, is so unbelievably welcome.

And that’s where we leave it.

Her warm breath feathers across my face for a count of nineteen before I lose track and drift off.