Different
Past,January 1985
Nina’s Protector
Kenisdifferent.
In turn, Nina is different. They’ve been dating for four weeks and the changes in her are miraculous. The forced smiles are gone, replaced with real ones. I’ve watched his attention and compliments—which I’m generally reluctantly cautious of—breathe life into her. Transform her. Nina has never been a confident person. I’ve known her forever and her life has been hard. Early on, difficulty and cruelty were thrust upon her, out of her control. She grew up used to expecting the worst out of life, and the worst continued to find her.
I oftentimes liken Nina to driving past a car accident—I know that sounds awful, but bear with me. No matter how badly I want to cover my face with my hands and avert my attention from the wreckage, I can’t. I can’t because I love her. So, instead, I grip the first thing within reach tightly with both hands and squeeze until I’m white-knuckled, focus unblinking on the disaster, and scream at her to stop. Or to make changes. Or to pay attention.
But like I said, Ken is different.
He relaxes her. Which relaxes me. There’s no high alertDanger! Danger!status with him. Which in itself makes me a bit edgy because that’s what I’m used to, but I roll with it. Because he takes her to dinner. He brings her flowers. He picks her up from work. He tells her she looks pretty. It’s been sixteen years since anyone told her that other than Toby when he was five. Hearing it from your blood is different than hearing it from someone you’re romantically linked to.
Tonight, when he picked her up from work, the first words he spoke to her when she got in the car were: “I want you to move in with me. What do you say?” His hand cupped her cheek lovingly.
Her trust transuded into the palm of his hand. And she agreed instantly. “Okay.”
In that hasty agreement is the first niggling ofDanger! Danger!I’ve felt in weeks. I know Nina is only looking for a way out of her mom’s apartment. She’s been living with her for months now and she yearns for independence. No thirty-one-year-old wants to live with their parent, but a series of poor choices, which I railed against loudly, put her there.
At her agreement a smile seeps into his cheeks; like a drop of ink dispersing through water it fans out gloriously until his face is animated and bright.
“Yeah?” he questions. There’s no surprise in his tone, in his expression, only joy. And maybe a little satisfaction. “This weekend?”
“Yeah,” she agrees with a smile that matches his.
Danger! Danger!is called off completely again. I think she should do it. I don’t say so, but I think getting away from her mom would be good for her. Her mother has always been controlling, manipulative, and a bad influence. She should have been protective, watchful, and guiding like me. Yes, I’m judgmental and a bit egotistical, it’s who I am. It’s then that the idea hits me: Nina should take Ken home to meet Toby. Toby and I are allies, an army of two who want nothing more than what’s best for Nina. I love that kid. And he’s like one of those police dogs trained to sniff out drugs; he can smell shady ten miles away. If Ken passes the Toby test, he’s golden.
Just like that Nina looks at Ken and says, “Can we go by my mom’s so I can change clothes?” Then she adds, “And you can meet my brother,” like she’s a mouthpiece for my thoughts.
Yes!I cheer quietly to myself.
Though his cheeks are still tugged back in a smile, the brightness snuffs out. I chalk it up to nerves when he reaches across the seat and squeezes her knee lovingly. “Okay. Sure, let’s go meet your brother.”
I study Ken closely when they pull up and park down the street from the Victorian on Clarkson. There’s a light sheen of sweat on his forehead and his expression is schooled and unreadable. My Sherlock Holmes hat is firmly in place and my eyes are narrowed as I try to figure him out.
Nina is fidgety, that’s nothing new, but anxiety is pulsing through her as she reaches for the handle and hesitantly pushes the creaky door of his old Chevelle open. When they come together on the sidewalk and join hands, I forget that these are two grown adults about to walk into a house and engage a fifteen-year-old boy. I know the only thing going through Nina’s mind as she shuffles along is how desperately she wants Toby to like Ken. It’s like this every time she dates someone new. Toby never thinks they’re good enough for her. He’s been correct every time. And Ken? I have no idea what Ken is thinking, but there’s no confidence in his gait. His usual swagger is gone, his steps aren’t fluid. As if hesitation is tripping him up.
Led Zeppelin’s “Kashmir” is pulsing loudly like a heartbeat from behind apartment 1A’s door when they approach. Toby must be alone; he never turns the record player up this loud when their mom is home.
“Robert Plant is a pussy,” Ken mutters as Nina unlocks the door.
Nina chuckles to herself before retorting, “We can’t all be AC/DC fans, Ken,” with a dash of sarcasm and a wink, despite Nina being Zeppelin’s biggest, lifelong fan. This flirty side of Nina is a relic from the past. It hasn’t seen the light of day in years. Most past boyfriends haven’t appreciated her well-placed humor. I marvel at it; her sarcasm is fierce. I’m happy she’s dusting it off and putting it to use again.
A relaxed smile graces him as he accepts her teasing and kisses her on the cheek. “But you should be,” he whispers in a serious tone that betrays the smile, before the door opens and judgment day descends upon him.
In the pause between “Kashmir” ending and “In the Light” beginning, Nina yells, “Toby!”
“In here!” Toby yells from his bedroom.
I notice the stumble in her step as she moves toward his door, it’s a giveaway. She’s rethinking this plan. She’s rethinking the second opinion or affirmation she’s just realized she’s after, because if Toby doesn’t approve of Ken, she doesn’t know what she’ll do. Will she look at Ken, who she tells herself she’s fallen in love with, differently? Will she suddenly see in him what Toby sees?
Toby meets her in the doorway of his room; he’s on his way out to greet her. Toby’s ghost smile is in place. I call it that because Toby never smiles outwardly, he never really has, but every once in a while, happiness burns bright in his pale green eyes and they light up, while his lips refuse to curve upward and join them. Even when he was little, he was serious. Inquisitive, quietly observing and sifting through people’s actions and words to decide if what someone projected on the outside matched who they were on the inside. It’s unnerving how perceptive he is.
“I thought you were going out tonight? Wanna eat—” he trails off when he notices Ken standing by the front door.
The atmosphere in the room shifts in an instant. It’s bloated; there simply isn’t enough space within the four walls of the living room to hold the judgment that’s expanding within like a balloon. It’s pushing in from opposite sides of the room, equal in weight and force, and Nina is stuck helplessly in the middle. The air being forced out of her lungs, Ken and Toby’s stare down is constricting from the back and the front. I don’t know if Ken’s aware his posture has changed. He’s standing up straighter. He’s looking for respect from Toby even though he hasn’t earned it; it’s an age-based assumption it will be given.
