The Other Side(94)
I nod again. I don’t like medication either, but I have to admit that whether it’s solely the medication or a combination of everything I’m doing, it’s working. “Okay.”
“How are all of the jobs going? Are you still helping Johnny out now that you started at the museum?” he asks the question like we’re friends and we’re catching up, not like he’s assessing my mental stability. I like that.
“All is well. I help out Johnny occasionally. And I really like being at the museum. It feels…I don’t know…it feels empowering.” I still help Johnny out with maintenance work when he needs it and I got a part-time job at Wax Trax because employee discounts are awesome. And I also got a part-time job at the Denver Art Museum because art is awesome, but it’s also the persuasion of the soul to seek out self and I need that right now. Desperately. “I only sell tickets for exhibit admission, but there’s something about being in that building three days a week that ignites a desire in me that I’ve never felt before. It makes me want to put myself out there the way every artist in the building has. Their fearlessness to share themselves is bold and terrifying and humble and implicit and galvanizing. I want that.”
“Good. Did you apply to The Art Institute of Denver?”
I nod and watch him smile encouragingly as he jots a note on his notepad.
“Yeah, I turned in my application Monday afternoon. The woman in admissions said I should hear something in four to six weeks. I’ll start in January if I’m accepted.”
“Good luck,” he says. “I think you need that creative outlet. Art is inherently therapeutic. Our time is almost up, any questions for me, Toby?”
“No, not that I can think of,” I answer, and I notice how clammy my hands are. I’m sweating. Being here always makes me feel equal parts nervous and better at the same time.
“Very good.” His eyes shift to Alice. “Thank you so much for coming today, Alice, and for being so open and willing to be a supportive part of Toby’s treatment. As I said before, Toby is doing the hard work, but a reliable support system is critical.”
Alice politely extends her hand and he shakes it. “I’m not going anywhere. And as much as I may be Toby’s support system, he’s also mine—we’d need another hour to discuss all the ways.” She smiles. “He’s a good person and so easy to love. I’m proud of him. He’s my hero.”
The right words, spoken at just the right time, make all the difference.
Alice always has the right words.
Epilogue of healing and happiness
Three years later…
Present, July 1990
Toby
“I miss you.” Alice’s voice is soft in the dark.
“You haven’t left yet.” My hands are wrapped around her hips, thumbs brushing back and forth over the soft skin under her Siouxsie and the Banshees T-shirt I love so much. I’m on my back, propped up on both bed pillows, and she’s lying on me, her forearms resting on my bare chest, legs draped on either side of mine, socked feet curled back across my shins, and her long hair tickling every inch of exposed skin that isn’t under the sheets.
Lowering her head, she kisses me, it’s featherlight, a dusting of lust we both feel but won’t give in to until we’ve finished talking. We’ve gotten really good at communication, with words and without. Because a conversation between two bodies is telling too.
“I know, but it’s two weeks without you.”
My hand curves around to her lower back and my fingertips trace the line of her spine. She shivers. I feel it even though I can’t see it, and it makes me smile.
“We’ll talk every day. Twice. When you wake up and before you go to sleep. And you’ll tell me everything, so it’s like I’m there with you. This is the coolest thing that’s ever happened, Alice. You’re going on tour. You get to see the West Coast. I’m so proud of you. Are you nervous?”
Their band has always been successful locally, but last year Wonderland recorded their first album. A few months ago, radio stations nationwide started playing their first single. They’re getting noticed and it led to this tour—handpicked by the headliner to open for them. Small venues, sold out shows—it’s the exposure they need. I may be biased, but Alice is a goddess onstage. And off.
She huffs like she’s both amused and, well…nervous. “Of course, I’m nervous.”
“Good, the nerves are there to remind you that you’re doing something that matters.” I’m only reciting her words back to her; she says this to me at least once a week. And it always helps.
“You do listen.” I can hear the smile in her words and the subsiding of nerves. “Were you nervous tonight?” Her voice has dropped to a whisper. It’s the tone she takes when she’s serious. And turned-on.
“Yeah, could you tell?” I had my first exhibit at an up-and-coming art gallery in Boulder tonight.
“Only because you held my hand so tight and never let go.” She sounds lighthearted and is teasing me, but there’s truth. I held onto her hand all night like she was my life preserver and I’d drown without her.
“Sorry,” I whisper.