Relief floods Nina as she watches him step onto his skateboard and disappear down the street.
Fear floods me as I watch the same scene.Ken is different!I scream at Toby’s dissipating figure. It’s bloodcurdling.Ken is different!
Toby returnsthe following afternoon as promised.
He pleads with her to leave with him. He’s openly crying. “Please,” he repeats over and over. I’ve never seen him like this.
“I can’t,” she refuses over and over.
When he acquiesces and moves on, exhausted, to plan B, he unzips his backpack, pulls out a revolver, and hands it to her.
She shakes her head defiantly, just like she did yesterday, and refuses it. “No. Put it away.” It’s the knee-jerk reaction to danger.
“You need to protect yourself. Either you leave with me or you take this.” His eyes are a mixture of sadness, determination, and remorse. He doesn’t want to do this. He doesn’t like guns, he never has. There isn’t a violent bone in his body; he’s an artist and was born to wield a drawing pencil not a weapon. But he’s squashed every impulse of right and wrong for Nina, to be her protector because she’s failing to do it herself. Sweat is trickling down his temples; this whole situation from start to finish is torturing him. Desperation has driven him to do something he would never do, to be recklessly reactionary, and it’s hard for me to watch. It’s also comforting from my perspective because I know she’s not alone, even if this is an extreme measure.
On the other hand, itisan extreme measure. And knowing Nina as well as I do, I offer a hushed caution,Don’t take it.
As the fear begins to morph and twist her thoughts, I can already see that my caution is warranted.Don’t take it, Nina!I yell.Please, don’t take it!
I’m still begging when she extends her hand and he shakily hands it off.Don’t do this, Nina!
And then I turn my attention to Toby.Don’t do this, Toby! Take it back! Take it back! Take it back!
Stuffing his hand back into the backpack, he pulls out a clear plastic baggie with six bullets inside and hands it over without a word.
She takes the bullets with her other hand. “Thanks.” She means it.
Shit, I think while I take a momentary pause in my rant. And I dive back in,Nina, you can’t do this! You have your entire life ahead of you!
Toby hugs her like he did yesterday, but then he whispers something he’s never said out loud before, “I love you.”
The tears are streaming silently when she hugs him back, but she says nothing. Instead, Nina holds on tight and tries to return the sentiment with the pressure of her hold. She’s never said it out loud either. They’ve never been the sort of family who says stuff like that.
When he releases her, he looks her dead in the eye for ten seconds like he wants to say more. Or like he wants to pick her up and throw her over his shoulder and carry her out of here kicking and screaming.
In the end, he decides to say nothing and walks out the door.
While I’m screaming until I’m blue in the face,Don’t go, Toby! Don’t do this! Nina is different! This is different! Nina is different!
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Present,May 1987
Toby
Alice is sitting nextto me in English. I didn’t have the heart to say anything when she sat down. Neither did she apparently, she just looks sad. Not like she’s disappointed in me, just sad. I haven’t heard from her since I missed her show Saturday night and Taber saw my disaster firsthand. I’m assuming she’s pissed and agrees that I’m a bad idea.
The silence stretches on.
And the connection between us snaps.
I clipped it.
Mentally I clipped it.
With shaky hands.
And an aching heart.
