Side Effects May Vary

“I wasn’t ever going to be good enough to make a career of it.” I paused. “I love your mom, Harvey, but I could never teach like she does. It wouldn’t satisfy me. Performance or nothing.” And I was never going to be good enough for the stage.

He leaned forward. “But you were incredible, Alice.”

I smiled. “In comparison to who, Harvey? All fifteen girls in my class?” I would never go back to ballet. Especially not now, when my body was still weak and out of practice. No matter how much I convinced my brain not to, my muscles still missed ballet. Then there were the pointe shoes Natalie had given me. I tried to hide them from myself. But it never worked, because all they did was haunt me every time I opened my closet or looked under my bed.

I was done thinking about this. I was done talking about this. “Now, you have to answer. Why’d you quit?”

He took another bite and swallowed. “Because I got tired of doing it for other people.”

We were quiet as we ate the rest of our dinner. Harvey finished before I did. He pushed his plate aside and said, “I think my father played the piano too.”

I didn’t know what to say. Harvey never really talked about his dad. I figured he’d always wondered, but it felt wrong to ask.

“Do you wonder where he is?” I asked.

“I try not to.”

I wasn’t a very good person unless I really made the effort to be. But I’d always wanted to solve this problem for Harvey. Because I had a pretty okay dad and Harvey deserved that—probably more than I did. But I had no idea where to start.

It was such a frank moment between us that I almost told him about my mom. But if I told Harvey that, there would be no more secrets and he would move in even closer. And that couldn’t happen. The closer he got, the more answers I owed him.

When our check came, Harvey insisted on paying. I argued, but finally said thank you.

We stood and I gave him his jacket back. Outside he hesitantly took my hand. The touch of his skin against mine sent a shot of electricity up my spine followed by the sheer relief that his feelings for me hadn’t changed.

We walked to the car, but he didn’t open the door for me. Closing the space between us with one step, he pressed me up against the car with the length of his body. I knew it was freezing out, but only because I knew it should be, and not because I could feel it. He brought his hands up to my face, holding my cheeks in his hands; I tucked my arms inside his jacket and around his waist. It was a reaction, nothing my body gave my mind a chance to decide.

“I’ve missed kissing you,” he said. One hand slid around to the back of my neck.

My stomach tightened and my fingers tingled against his back. I should have stopped him right there and told him the truth—that I couldn’t promise him what he wanted. Because I wouldn’t let myself make promises any longer. Not when they could be broken.

Instead I replayed his words in my head because they were so delicious.

The heat from my chest filled my cheeks, and Harvey leaned into me. Even if I wasn’t pressed up against his car, I wouldn’t have moved. I stayed perfectly still except for the beat of my heart pounding in my ears, like someone was inside of me banging on the cavity of my chest, begging to be let out. He was so warm and near that when I inhaled, it was his breath in my lungs.

The car next to us beeped, the headlights blinking, and we jumped apart.

We drove in silence the whole way home, not because it was awkward. We didn’t have to talk and the not talking felt good.

When we got home, Harvey followed me inside, and I tried to count the hours until my parents might be home. I felt like I was at war with myself. I wanted nothing more than to feel something, but I didn’t know how to deal with what came after the feeling.

“You want some hot chocolate?” I asked.

“I’m okay,” he said, looking out the kitchen window, like he could see whatever was out there in the darkness of our backyard.

All I saw was the reflection of him in the window.

I poured a cup of milk and put it in the microwave.

“Alice,” he said slowly, “why have you been avoiding me?”

The question made me testy, like a cornered animal. “I’m not,” I said. “I called you tonight, didn’t I?”

He took in a sharp breath and exhaled. “You called me because you decided you wanted me here tonight, not because you wanted me.” His voice got louder with every word. “You don’t get to be the only person to decide when this works for you,” he said.

The microwave dinged as I closed my eyes for a moment and said, “Good night, Harvey.” I couldn’t look at him and say it at the same time. I wanted so badly to tell him to stay and that I was sorry, but calling him had been a mistake, and I didn’t know how to make him understand that. He had to leave because if he didn’t, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from falling down this slope and into him.

“You never surprise me, Alice, which is such a disappointment.”