“Which made me feel like shit because adjusting to losing your sight is no picnic, but when your own parent doesn’t accept you the way you are, it’s crushing. I felt like a disappointment instead of a daughter. So, I started acting out: ditching school, drinking, smoking. Because if she didn’t think I was the same old Alice anymore, I was determined to not be the same old Alice anymore and really show her. That was short-lived because I didn’t like me like that either. So instead of acting out, I argued. A lot. I was bitter and jaded and started to hate myself. That was about a year ago. By that time, Taber met Inga and decided to go to AA. He got sober and secretly got me into a free counseling program offered through a church near my school. We aren’t religious, but they welcomed me anyway. He took me once a week for almost a year. My mom didn’t know.”
“Did it help?” I ask, knowing the answer must be yes.
“So much. But my mom wouldn’t give up on the new doctors, and I couldn’t deal with what life had in store with my blindness and her constant need to fix me. To fix what can’t be fixed. That’s when fate and Taber intervened.”
“What happened?”
“The band had been wanting to move to Denver and give the scene here a go, because we’d been getting a lot of gigs down here. Taber found this apartment and a job at the bar he works at all within a week. He called me and told me he wanted me to move in with him.”
“Your knight in shining armor,” I interject.
She smiles knowingly and corrects me. “My knight in leather and eyeliner.”
“Right,” I agree to accept the correction.
“Do you know why I wanted to drink tonight?” She sounds apologetic for bringing the conversation down.
“No, why?” I ask curiously. I know this isn’t the acting out she mentioned earlier. She’s way too even-keeled for that. Too responsible.
“I guess I just wanted to feel like a normal eighteen-year-old. The past two years have been a roller coaster. I feel like I’m finally in a good place. I like myself again.” She tries to smile, but it looks sad. “Taber is doing really well, he’s thriving in Denver. His girlfriend is great; I think they’ll get married as soon as she finishes nursing school. Our band is kicking ass; we have gigs booked for the next three months. I’ll be graduating soon and I’m so glad to get that behind me. But the one thing I’ve missed is having a friend who isn’t my brother or a bandmate. The friends I had in Fort Collins, we drifted apart over the past two years. I changed, I know I did. I couldn’t cope with me and they couldn’t either. It’s been months since I had a true friend. But with you, I feel like I’ve finally found one. You make me feel normal, Toby. I have fun with you because I can be myself.”
“You can always be yourself with me. I wouldn’t want you any other way,” I whisper.
“Thanks,” I can hear the smile in her voice. “What about your family? Why don’t you live with them?” she asks.
I should’ve been expecting the question, but it catches me off guard. I slip my hand from hers and reach for the bottle on the nightstand and take in so much that it requires two swallows to get it all down.
“I could use some more of that. Pass it here, please,” she says, motioning with her fingers.
I do and my eyes fall absently on the patchwork quilt underneath me and on top of Alice. “My mom is an alcoholic,” I say with little emotion. I’m drunk and it’s having a lovely numbing effect on just about every part of me. I don’t know why I said it, but it seems the best place to start when it comes to my family.
Alice hands me the bottle, and I don’t miss the irony of both of us getting sloppy drunk when alcoholism runs in our families. Like she can feel my instant guilt, she says, “Do you ever fear you could be someday, too? Because it runs in families?”
“No.” I won’t live long enough. “Do you?”
“No. At least, I hope not. I honestly don’t like the taste of it. I don’t think I ever will. And being around Taber I never drink, to be supportive of his choices and his health. That’s why I’ve had this bottle hidden away for so long. I’ll throw it in the dumpster outside before he gets home tomorrow so he’ll never know.” She pauses and circles back to the conversation I’d like to avoid even though my drunk mind won’t let me. “Is that why you don’t live with her, because she drinks?”
“I don’t live with her because she left.” I don’t sound angry. I don’t sound sad. I sound indifferent because right now, I am.
“She left?” Alice sounds confused and shifts on the bed until she’s lying perpendicular to me and her head is in my lap. I love how comfortable she makes herself.
I brush the hair back from her forehead absentmindedly. “Yeah. Johnny evicted her. She left and I stayed.”
“Wow.” I see her lips move more than I hear it. “What about your dad? Couldn’t you go live with him?”
“I don’t know who he is. My mom always said he was a deadbeat and never told me his name. She just told me he didn’t want anything to do with us.”
“I’m sorry,” she says sincerely. “He missed out on you. Maybe not on her, but definitely on you.”
“That’s debatable.” I shouldn’t have said that out loud.
She reaches up and presses her palm flush against my chest so I hear her words. “No, it’s not. You’re a good person, Toby.” She then clasps both of her hands over her stomach. “Do you have any siblings?”
I clam up. Despite the alcohol, I clam up.
She must feel me tense. “Toby?”
“A sister,” I force out.
