If Ken is waiting for Toby to introduce himself first, he’ll grow old where he stands. It won’t happen.
Toby is blinking slowly. He’s starting to sweat, but other than that, there’s no tell that his nerves are blistering. He’s doing his thing—assessing—with the music blaring all around them like a siren call.
Nina shifts from one foot to the other—words stuck in her throat, nerves tightening—as time slows to mimic the uneven rhythm of the room’s tension. The music is suddenly too loud, her beloved Robert Plant’s voice too eerie, and her only mission is to turn it off. When the music is muted surely the universe will right itself and Ken and Toby will stop the pretense and be civil. Nina is holding her breath, but I already know how this is going to end. There’s no amount of righting itself the universe can do to make Toby change his mind. I can see the disapproval in his eyes and so can Nina.
The needle skitters across the vinyl as Nina lifts it with a shaky hand.
“Shit,” she mutters, hoping she didn’t scratch it. This album is hers. It’s also her favorite.
When she turns to face the showdown, she decides the sudden shock of an audible void has done little to remedy the situation. If anything, it’s amplified it and has demanded it be addressed.
Nina’s eyes instinctively go to Toby first but bounce back to Ken instantly. Ken is standing closer to her and it seems proximity has chosen him for her. “Ken, this is my little brother, Toby.”
Ken remains stoically still for an uneasy three or four seconds, before he takes a few steps forward into the living room where he stops halfway and raises his chin slightly in greeting. “Hey, man.”
Toby blinks twice and takes one step forward into the living room, leaving several feet between them. This is it. I know it; Nina knows it. Toby is shorter than Ken, he hasn’t hit a growth spurt yet, but he looks up at him and valiantly holds his gaze. In all the years I’ve known Toby, I’ve only known him to act bold on Nina’s behalf. All he’s ever wanted is to be her protector. “You’re Nina’s boyfriend.”
It’s not a question but the way he says it, an odd juxtaposition of doubt and certainty, prods Ken to answer anyway. “Yeah.”
Toby’s eyes drop to the floor and he licks his lips before his eyes bounce back up to Ken’s. “What’s your favorite thing about her?” he asks without further hesitation.
This approach is new. Nina doesn’t like it, she’s a rubber band ready to snap.Wait him out, see where this goes,I coach silently.
Ken tilts his head and gives Toby a puzzled look. “What?”
Toby repeats slowly, emphasizing every word like their importance is paramount: “What’s your favorite thing about her?” The pause that follows is short, like Toby’s patience for Ken. Toby glances pointedly at Nina before turning and stepping back into his room. One hand on the door, he looks over his shoulder at Ken and says sadly, “It shouldn’t take that long, Ken. That was an easy question.” The door shuts before Ken or Nina can reply.
Nina’s thoughts stall out.
It was an easy question!I echo loudly.
“What the hell was that about?” Ken asks angrily. “Is your brother always such a little prick?”
Nina is still in shock and coupled with letdown it feels oddly like betrayal. Nina’s happy for the first time in forever.Because of Ken. When she finally looks at Ken, all she can do is shrug pitifully. “I’m sorry.”
In those two hushed words, I’m brought back to all the times I’ve heard them uttered in that same tone. Sometimes it’s warranted, most times it isn’t. Nina has always been the type of person to apologize first and the vast majority of them are inserted needlessly into a situation to smooth things over. Saying, “I’m sorry,” to someone, when they’re the one who should be saying it to her instead, is a lifelong, chronic problem. Taking the blame for everything is a by-product of insecurity and a sense of worthlessness in Nina. Self-doubt has always been louder than her cheerleader…me. That’s always pissed me off.
The currentI’m sorryhanging in the room is pulsing and building steam. It’s gingerly stroking Ken’s ego like cautious fingertips trying to calm a riled cat. But it’s working twofold on Nina. Despite me backing up Toby and yelling again,It was an easy question!to prompt, if nothing else, a quick counterargument to the pedestal she’s put Ken on, Nina takes the fork in the road she’s never taken. Resentment toward Toby is rising. And second by second, she’s embracing it. Dangerously welcoming it in. I know how dangerous this is, because Nina can hold a grudge like a champ. When resentment takes root, there’s no chance of weeding it from the garden. It’s there to stay.
Nina’s glassy eyes blaze at Toby’s door. “Help me pack. I’m moving in tonight.”
I know, in the moment, that Nina is making a bad decision. I’m the queen of hunches.Trust your gutis my motto, my epithet.
Ken is different, I remind myself.
Only this time it feels ominous, instead of reassuring.
Ken is different, I repeat.
Trust me!my gut agrees.
Ken is different.
Different.
Different.
Danger!
