The Other Side

by Kim Holden

“My knight in leather and eyeliner.”

Johnny evicted her. She left and I stayed.”

Music was clear and precise and dauntless and honest, its message and soul intact despite everything else fading into oblivion. It made me feel connected to it. To her.”

“Our son is seven months.”

“You have a baby, Toby?”

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.

Before, nothing mattered except making it to the fifth of June and graduating. My life had an expiration date, nothing beyond that mattered. But now Alice matters and she deserves better than hanging out with guys who end up in the back of police cars.

“Everyone cares about someone, some of us are just shit at showing it.”

The road to Hell is paved with good intentions

She’s paranoid now. Being punished for anything and everything for weeks on end, when you already have a history of punishing yourself, will do that.

Mothers should safeguard their children’s fragile vulnerability; instead, theirs wields shame and guilt like a machete. Slicing through them with words meant to wound when she feels the need to reinstate her sense of absolute authority.

Falling out of sobriety was easy when depression felt like two giant hands pushing her face-first off the side of a cliff.

“He’s hitting you.”

Don’t do this, Toby! Take it back! Take it back! Take it back!

Nina, you can’t do this! You have your entire life ahead of you!

he whispers something he’s never said out loud before, “I love you.”

Because confident and catastrophic can’t coexist. One will destroy the other. I am the destroyer. I am catastrophic.

her smiling face from my memories distorted by a coat of blood red. The color of death. And then the images that haunt my nightmares begin an unbidden slideshow to torment.

Her frail body lying atop a pool of blood.

I can’t do this. I can’t do life. Without her. Like my mom said… It should’ve been you. Yes. It should’ve been me.

Before I can lean over to pick him up, he does something he’s never done before. He reaches for me, arms extended and little chubby fingers flexing in anticipation. He only does this to Chantal. The gesture makes me freeze bent at the waist and I can’t help but smile. Yes, smile.

I can’t help but think that apart from Alice, this is the best conversation I’ve had in the past few years.

I can’t help but think about how much I’m going to miss him when I go. I won’t see him grow up.

“A nursing home.” Her voice breaks and it breaks me because I know that would be her last stop. When she enters, she won’t leave.

when you’re this worked up, there isn’t room in your throat for words and shame and sadness. Only one of them wins that battle and it’s never words because shame and sadness steal your breath.

“Sometimes in life, you do everything you can and it still isn’t enough. And that sucks,”

I have been dismissed. No more Joey. No more Mrs. Bennett. There’s absolutely no point in Tuesdays anymore.

I’ve never said goodbye to anyone that I knew I would never see again. And I will never see them again. I only have a little over a week left.

The following week is dark.

Because I’m the moth. And she’s the flame. Everything about her is ethereal. She is light. And hope. And beauty. Fearlessness embodied. I am none of those.

I am her corruptive antidote. I am light-less. And hope-less. And beauty-less. Fear embodied. I am the moth the flame should burn. Out of existence. Because confident and catastrophic, the living and the dead, don’t, shouldn’t, coexist. I taint. I am nothing. I am nothing. I. Am. Nothing.

She told Ken she would have a surprise waiting for him tonight when he left this morning. The way she said it, he thinks it will be something good. I know it won’t.

I’m used to living in stress management mode—I’m Nina’s subconscious, it’s what I do. But this is different. She isn’t listening, she’s tuning me out. I know she’s been planning this since long before Toby gave her the gun yesterday, but I thought I could talk her out of it. It’s obvious now that I can’t. Subconsciouses don’t like to be silenced. We fight. Until the end.

I know you think there’s no other way, but there is. There’s always another way. Please.

Instead, she’s crying for both of us. While she’s loading the gun. With all six bullets.

“Goodbye, Toby.” And then she adds something that breaks me, because I know it’s all over. “I love you, too.”

Rests the barrel against her right temple. Don’t do it, Ni— And pulls the trigger.

I sat in school all day worrying and can’t help but regret giving Nina that gun.

Suffering should be a secret. Shame should be a secret. Guilt should be a secret. I should be a secret. No. You shouldn’t exist at all.

Tour one, I was a soldier. Tour two, I was a machine. Tour three, I was a monster.

“You stupid, useless piece of shit, you’re dead to me! Do you hear me? You’re dead!”

“It should’ve been you, Toby! If you thought a gun was such a goddamn good idea, you should’ve just used it on yourself!”

His soul is bleeding out. I want to wrap my arm around him. I want to offer comfort. But I can’t, so I don’t. Broken people like me just can’t, we aren’t capable of it.

Notice of Eviction I, Johnny Stockton, hereby declare tenant, Marilyn Page, has until noon, June 6, 1985, to vacate the premises of 1261 N. Clarkson, Apt. 1A, Denver, Colorado, or the authorities will be called and legal action will be pursued to collect six months of unpaid rent. Signature of landlord: Johnny Stockton Date: June 6, 1985

“You’re the only one leaving. Toby’s staying here. He’ll live with me.”

“The little bastard is cursed. Good luck with that.”

“Leave and never come back. Now that Nina’s gone, I will not allow you to poison him any longer. I know she was Toby’s mother—”

“She. Told. Me.”

“Impossible.” More head shaking. “That’s impossible. Why would she tell you?” I don’t answer her question, the indignant stare I pierce her with does though. “Oh,” she whispers. “Oh,” she repeats as the realization sinks in. She’s been defeated and she knows it.

It’s your last Friday, asshole.