“Toby, I know you’re in there! No one else in this house has the good taste to lock themselves away with The Smiths!” It’s Alice yelling through a smile. Her voice is more playful when her grin is wide and toothy.
Opening the door, a greeting would be appropriate, but guilt makes me irritable and instead I ask, “How’d you know I was down here?”
“Cliff told me.”
Of course he did. Guilt, the instigator with impeccable timing, drops the needle on the track of Taber and Inga in my mind and turns up the volume until it’s deafening; I want to cover my ears even though I can’t block it out because it’s coming from the inside.
“What do you need?” I blurt. That sounded harsh and blunt and I regret it even before I see the subtle recoil of her reaction.
“Umm…” She fumbles as the smile tumbles from her lips. “I came to see if you wanted to ride with us to the gig, that way you can come in with us and won’t need a ticket.” She sounds hurt, like she already knows I’m going to bow out and flake on her.
Her words are kind.
Her tone is wounded.
I am an asshole.
I pinch the bridge of my nose because I can’t punch myself in the face to exact some punishment and then I talk over my filter that’s usually airtight. “I’m sorry.” That was for being a dick. And holding back the truth. Sighing, because she’ssofucking good and I’msofucking not, I put the filter back in place, temper my voice, and I lie. “Something came up, Alice. Johnny’s friend in Greeley is giving away a freezer and he needs me to ride with him and help him load it. If he doesn’t pick it up tonight, she’s giving it to someone else. So, I can’t make it to your show.” My God, that felt horrible.
Her lips rub together, an act of disappointment, as she nods slowly. “Yeah...no problem...I understand...” It’s preoccupied contemplation masked by stunted phrases of misunderstanding.
Deciphered, it’sNo. It is a problem. I don’t understand, in my ears, because she knows I’m lying. On the inside I’m down on my knees in front of her apologizing profusely,I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I am so sorry, but on the outside, which is the only place that matters, I’m silent. Delivering silence to Alice is cruel denial. She can’t see the shame filling my eyes and threatening to spill out. She can’t see the crease of self-hate in my forehead and between my eyes. She can’t see the frustration of my lies balling up my fists. I manage to croak out, “Good luck.” It sounds misplaced and questioning because I’ve messed everything up.
She makes me wait for her reply. Or maybe she’s trying to decide if she’s going to reply at all. “Thanks,” she finally calls back from the foot of the stairs. It sounds misplaced and questioning because I’ve messed everything up.
Chapter Fourteen
Present,March 1987
Toby
I didn’t sleeplast night.
It’s eating at me from the inside out.
Alice. Making things right.
Taber. Bringing things to light.
My omission is a lie; it’s blatant elusion void of choice by the affected.
Protecting the innocent.
By protecting the guilty.
Blissfully unaware is a teetering breath away from being sucker punched with an alternate reality. I’d rather she hears it from me than hears it in motion like I did.
I’m sitting on my sleeping bag tying my shoes when Cliff stops in front of my open door, rubbing the sleep from his eyes in only a pair of sweatpants, his overweight physique pinched in the middle by tight elastic. His mohawk is flopped over from a night of sleep, rigid but spiritless. Like Cliff. “Where are you going so early?” he asks.
“It’s noon. And none of your business,” I snap. I can’t blame my quick temper on my lack of sleep; a night of sleeplessness is a drop in the bucket for an insomniac. It’s the heaviness of this secret I’m carrying. I’m full of secrets, I don’t need another one.
“I just asked a question, you don’t have to be an ass about it.” There’s a fine line between putting up with Cliff and lashing out at him. It’s subtle for me, but he heard it loud and clear and shuffles on toward the bathroom.
I put on my sweatshirt and take it off twice before I decide wearing it is a good idea in case this goes badly and I end up taking a long walk alone afterward.
I’m sweating by the time I click the padlock on my door into place.
And I’m grumbling under my breath, “This is a horrible idea,” as I descend the stairs.
