The Other Side(88)

The shower is, as always, my sanctuary. My hand is throbbing from punching the wall last night and all of my muscles are stiff from holding the same position while I slept with Alice. But I’d wake every morning sore if it meant being near her. As I wash and soak up the heat, I think about the cake that Johnny obviously bought.

And then I think about the skateboard that he brought home five years ago and told me his friend threw it in when he bought a bunch of stuff off him at a garage sale. Or the time he said there was a pair of brand new, high-top Chucks in the bedroom closet of 2A after they left in the middle of the night. Or the clothes he’s left in the kitchen for me that he claimed were abandoned by tenants who moved out or were evicted. It’s always been stuff I needed. And it fit. I’m beginning to think it wasn’t coincidental at all. He was always looking out for me, always trying in his own way to take care of me.

After I shave and dress, Johnny’s back in the apartment. He’s cutting the cake when I walk into the kitchen.

He tips his chin at me. His eyes roam over me like he’s taking inventory to make sure everything is still intact.

I tip my chin in return and put my dirty clothes and towel back in my room before joining him again.

He’s finished cutting and his hands are stuffed in his pockets.

So are mine.

We’re so alike, it’s not even funny.

He clears his throat. “I’m proud of you, Toby. I don’t know if I made that clear last night, but I am.”

I glance down at the floor. I don’t do well with compliments.

“Do you like chocolate cake?” It sounds tentative, like he’s embarrassed that he doesn’t know and has to ask.

“Yeah.” I pause before I ask, “You bought that skateboard when I was thirteen, and those Chuck Taylors, and all those clothes for me over the years, didn’t you?”

He scratches at the stubble on his chin and shrugs. “They were from the Goodwill, but it’s all I could afford. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.”

We both pause, eyes averted from each other, thinking.

Until I break the silence. “Thank you. It mattered. And it was enough, I didn’t need new.”

His chin rises and I can feel his eyes on me. “I’ve been fixing up 1A. Painting it, cleaning it. I got a new mattress for the bed in the master bedroom. It’s your graduation present…” He pauses like he’s not sure how I’ll react. “If you want it,” he adds, like he’s afraid I’ll turn it down.

I meet his eyes, not sure what to say. It’s the apartment I lived in with Marilyn for years. It’s been closed up since she left and I moved up here.

“If you don’t want it…if there are too many bad memories, I understand.”

I shake my head, not because I want to refuse him, but because I can’t accept it. “You should take it. There’s more space for you and Cliff.”

He looks contemplative. “I don’t need more space. Cliff doesn’t need more space.”

“Speak for yourself!” Cliff yells from behind his closed bedroom door.

Johnny closes his eyes and inhales deeply like Cliff is testing his patience. Before he opens them he laughs and whispers so softly that Cliff can’t hear him. “That kid is going to be the death of me.”

I raise my eyebrows to agree. “You should take it,” I repeat. “Or rent it out. Now that it’s fixed up, you could probably get decent rent for it.”

He shakes his head and pulls the pack of cigarettes from the chest pocket of his flannel shirt, shakes one out and lights it. “It’s yours. You deserve a real bed, Toby. And some privacy—you’ve done without for so long. It’s time.”

“I didn’t plan beyond graduation…for obvious reasons. I don’t know what I’m going to do. But I’ll need to get a second job. I’ll pay rent, if I take it,” I add.

Johnny inhales and I watch the smoke drift out in curls toward the ceiling. “No rent. You’re my son, this is your house too. And you don’t have to work for me anymore if you don’t want to. When you find something better, something full-time, I expect you to quit working for me. What about college?”

I shrug. “I don’t think I’m cut out for college.”

“Why not? You’re a smart kid; you can do anything you want. You could go to that art school on Ninth Avenue,” he suggests.

I bite at the inside of my cheek because this conversation is too much. “I don’t know what I want. My life was supposed to end yesterday. For two years, I just worked toward that…” I trail off and leave it at that.

He takes a long drag and then flicks the ash into the ashtray on the counter. “Well, think about it. Start making new plans. I’ll help with tuition. I start a new job next week working for the city maintenance department.”

“You’ll need help with the house then, if you’re getting another job—”

“I can manage, Toby,” he cuts me off gently. “Don’t worry about me.”

Sometimes I forget he’s a functioning, responsible adult now. I nod.

“Let’s eat,” he says.

The words aren’t even out of Johnny’s mouth before Cliff’s door opens. “Finally,” he says exasperatedly and marches into the kitchen.