That I step into. When her arms slide around my waist and mine rest on her shoulders and gather her in around her neck, I press my face into her hair and the inhalation of air that’s involuntarily dragged into my lungs is the precursor to a sob that I stifle with everything in me by clamping down my lips and biting down from the inside to keep it trapped.
I hold my breath.
The sob leaks from my eyes instead.
I do not cry in front of people. I save it for when I’m alone in my room, or in the shower, or in a bathroom stall at school if it’s a particularly shitty day. I feel like such a goddamn failure right now. No one is supposed to see this. It’s supposed to remain hidden. My sadness is mine and it shouldn’t bleed all over anyone else.
Holding me to her with one arm while running the other hand up and down my back, she presses her lips to my ear and the whisper of a kiss touches it before the whisper of the words do. “Breathe, Toby.Just breathe.”
I can’t.
Not yet.
Because it will be loud and tortured. It’s clawing fiercely to be let out.
“Breathe,” she repeats.
I bury my face in my elbow resting on her shoulder to muffle the embarrassing ugliness that escapes. I’m usually a silent crier—I can mute the sound and let the pain of encapsulating it burn me from the inside. Today is different, I guess. The ugly bursts out in the open before I’m able to sniff and clear my nose, and breathe deep as Alice coached. She’s still rubbing my back when I finally swallow down the lump in my throat and apologize into my elbow. “I’m so sorry.”
Her hand moves up to cradle the back of my head, holding it in place. It’s a comforting gesture and I can honestly say that no one has ever held me, touched me, cared for me like this. I wasn’t raised in a family that showed affection. We didn’t touch. I hugged Nina twice. In this moment, I don’t ever want Alice to let me go, because even though it still hurts like hell—it hurts a little less.
“Don’t be,” she whispers against my neck. “Just promise me that someday, when it doesn’t hurt so much to talk about, you’ll tell me the story. I want to hear it, Toby. I want to hear all of your stories.”
I lift my head and press the side of my cheek to the side of hers so she can feel my answering nod.
Stroking the hair on the back of my head, she nods in agreement.
And then Alice starts to sway, and before I know it, we’re slow dancing to U2 in the middle of Wax Trax on a Sunday afternoon. My eyes are still wet and hers are still red.
Despite everything, I don’t care what anyone thinks because this is mine.
Until the song ends and I open my eyes to everyone staring at us or diligently trying hard not to. I can’t decide which is worse.
As if Alice notices the tension swell in me, she whispers in my ear, “I should get home, Toby.”
Grabbing her cane, I lead her out the door and give her directions so she can lead us back to the Victorian on Clarkson, that way she’ll be able to come back here on her own anytime she wants. I also add that this isn’t the safest neighborhood after dark and she should avoid going out alone then.
Taber is sitting on the front steps when we approach the house. His arms are folded, resting on his knees, and his forehead rests on his arms. He’s a still frame of worry until he lifts his head, sees Alice, and every inch of him relaxes.
“Getting to know the neighborhood?” he asks. The casualness of the question is telling. It’s trusting, knowing, supportive, and thoughtful.
“Yeah. Toby took me to a record store a few blocks away. It’s called Wax Trax, you’ll love it,” Alice answers as Taber pulls her into a hug.
“A record store? Perfect,” are the words Taber’s mouth says.Are you okay?is the question his hug asks.
“Is she gone?” Alice asks in answer.
He releases her. “You know how much Rachel enjoys quality time alone with me.” He tries to sound light when he says it, and then adds, “The conversation after you left was riveting, we chatted about cross-stitch and puppies over coffee for an enjoyable hour. I didn’t want it to end, but sadly, she had to get to work.”
A smile breaks out on Alice’s face and it reminds me why Taber deserves her. He saves her from sadness. I am sadness. “She hates dogs. And coffee.”
“Does she at least still have a deep and wholesome love affair with cross-stitch?” Taber asks to prolong Alice’s smile.
She answers on an amused snort. “The deepest.”
“Thank God or my lies would have no merit.” That’s where he leaves it and turns to face me mouthing the words,Thank you,before he asks, “You like music, Toby?”
I nod and add, “Yeah,” to include Alice in the conversation.
