“No,” I blurt out. Finally something I can be truthful about.
“How long were you together?” She’s still whispering and it makes my stomach ball up.
“We never were.” I sound ashamed and I’m not sure how she’s going to take that.
She nods and a short, derisive bark of laughter that isn’t laughter at all escapes. “Does she know that? Because it didn’t sound that way to me.”
I sigh because my life is a shit show. “Yes, she knows that. We had sex once—”
She cuts me off. “—You had sexonceand she got pregnant?”
“Yeah. Itdoeshappen, you know? Sometimes what you think is a good choice in the moment turns into something you didn’t ask for in the end.” There’s a clip in my voice, but truer words have never been spoken. My cheeks are burning. I don’t want to talk about this anymore. “I need to get downstairs to their apartment; her grandma has Alzheimer’s and can’t be left alone.”
She nods and it softens her, but I can tell the news is bothering her. I should explain more but I can’t.
“I need to get to band practice,” she says.
“Yeah,” I agree because I’m tired, and Joey is starting to squirm in my arms.
“Yeah,” she whispers in hesitant agreement, turns, and walks away.
I can feel the judgment and I want to scream, Yes, I’m more fucked up than you could ever imagine! You should stay away from me!But, I can’t. Because I can’t stay away from her.
Mrs. Bennett has beenasleep in her bedroom for three hours and Joey has been asleep in my arms for two when I hear a timid knock on their door. When I open it, Alice is standing there and I can see the apology on her face before she opens her mouth.
“Alice,” I say quietly. It’s relief and gratitude and surprise.
“I’m sorry.” I think she’s going to say more, but she stops abruptly. “Are we alone?”
“Except the sleeping baby in my arms, yes,” I answer. The irritation from earlier is gone, I’m just happy to see her.
“I’m sorry about earlier. I was jealous and I shouldn’t have been, but I was. I was a little surprised too, but mostly just jealous,” she rambles.
I shift Joey in the crook of my arm so I can free up one hand and touch her cheek because it’s been days since I touched her and I need that right now. Touching her skin makes me feel like I’m not alone. Her head tilts and she leans slightly into my hand like she’s missed it too.
“You don’t need to be jealous. Surprised, yes. Jealous, no. I should’ve told you. I should’ve told you a long time ago.” My fingers have threaded into her hair above her ear, and I’m stroking my thumb softly across her cheek. Her eyes are closed. And my God, she looks so pretty it hurts.
“You should’ve told me, but I should’ve behaved differently—”
“Chantal should’ve behaved differently. She’s never like that,” I interject.
She shrugs. “She just has this deep voice and she sounds older. She sounds mature and confident and…” she trails off then lets out a sigh. “I’m sorry, my self-conscious side is rearing its ugly head and I know how unattractive that is. I tend to compare myself to people, women especially, and I always come up short in the comparison. I’m working on it with my therapist, but I failed tonight. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I’m sorry too.”
“Listen, Toby, I don’t know what we are to each other and I honestly don’t want to put a label on it because then I overthink everything and I know I’ll mess it up, but I do know that you’re my friend. My only friend and the best friend I’ve probably ever had and I don’t want that to change. Are we good?”
I’m not used to honesty like this. I’m not used to people caring.
My thumb brushes her cheek one more time before I release her and return to a two-armed hold on Joey before leaning forward and whispering, “We’re good,” against her temple before I kiss it. “This whole friendship thing is new to me too and I suck at it.”
Her smile transforms into something dreamier. “Night, Toby and Joey.”
I smile too. “Night, Alice.”
When Chantal arriveshome around midnight, I’m so tired I can hardly see straight. She looks sheepish. She never looks sheepish. I know she feels bad about what happened earlier with Alice, but she’s not one to come out and apologize either. We are so similar. Usually, I avoid confrontation, and for the most part I plan on doing it tonight, but I can’t leave without saying something. We do the ritual handoff, and I watch her effortlessly lie him down in his crib without waking him—I still think there’s some sort of motherly witchcraft involved in the process because he wakes up every time I even look at the crib with intention, let alone try.
When she turns and walks back out to the living room, she asks, “Did he cry a lot?”
