Side Effects May Vary

After the pot incident, I gave Harvey a day before I tried to apologize, but he ignored my messages for the rest of the week before calling me back. I don’t know what made me so quick to apologize. Maybe it was Harvey rubbing off on me. Or maybe it was the feeling of being holed up in my house, waiting for nothing. Every day, and especially the ones without Harvey, began to lack purpose. I’d always taken for granted the little things like studying for tests or quizzes and the anticipation of Fridays, but now, as I spent my days at home under the watchful eye of one of my parents, I missed those small goals that gave purpose to everyday life.

I lay sprawled out on the couch with my laptop, hunting for the latest social-media-worthy school gossip. The juiciest bit I’d come across was the fact that Mindi was dating some senior named Mike Tule. This amused me to no end because Mike Tule looked like a total tool.

I got up for a glass of water to take my meds. As I settled back into the couch, my phone rang.

“Hey,” said Harvey. He was at work. I could hear the voice on the intercom listing off the Daily Deals.

“Hi. I’ve, uh, been trying to call you.”

“I’m on my break. I’ve only got, like, five minutes left.” He sounded distant, like the type of boy who left a trail of confused girls in his wake.

“Oh,” I said, stunned that he was still acting this way. “We can talk later.”

“Well, what did you want?”

I couldn’t believe he was still pissed at me. “Didn’t you get my messages?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

“I apologized.” I sat up and breathed out through my nose, trying to scale back my irritation.

“Oh, come on, Al, I wouldn’t really call—” He sighed into the phone. “Just, never mind.”

“What?” I said, my temper climbing. “Don’t be a punk. Just say it.”

“You said you were sorry that I was pissed off. That’s not how apologies work.”

“I said I was sorry. Jesus.”

“You can’t apologize for my feelings and expect things to be better.” He paused. “Especially not when you’re the reason for them.”

I knew what he was talking about, but that hadn’t been what I meant. I didn’t think. “Harvey—”

“No,” he said. “An apology like that makes it sound like you had nothing to do with why I was mad when you were what got me all angry in the first place.” His voice rose with each word. “That’s not okay.”

“I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to sound that way.” I almost said it, that I was sorry for how I’d acted and what I did, but instead I said, “Do you want to write up your own apology and I can sign it? Would that work better for you?”

“I have to get back to work.”

“Fine,” I said. “I’ll call you later.”

“I’ll be there in a sec,” he called to someone on the other end. “Yeah, okay,” he said to me and hung up.

He was right and I knew it. My damn pride had gotten in the way. Again.

About an hour later I texted Harvey and asked him to come over after work. It took him another two hours to respond with a simple “K.”

By the time his key turned the lock, my parents were getting ready for bed, but I waited.

We sat there, and I knew it was me who had to talk first.

“Hey, Harv,” said my dad, peeking his head in from the hallway. “Leftovers in the fridge. And, Alice, don’t stay up too late.”

I nodded and waited for his door to click shut before turning to Harvey. “I’m sorry,” I said.

He looked at me expectantly.

I chewed on my lip for a second. “I’m sorry for being an asshole and treating Celeste and Mindi the way I did. And for dragging you into it.”

“I just like you the way you are when it’s only us,” he said, his lips pursed, “and I wish you could be that way all the time. And I don’t want to be your imaginary friend. I want to be your friend.”

I nodded. “I want that too.” I felt my eyes watering. I couldn’t handle him being mad. I couldn’t risk dying that way.

The corner of his mouth lifted. It felt so good to see him almost smile. “Okay,” he said.

The tension inside me unwound all at once, leaving me suddenly tired. “Okay, like we’re good?”

“Yeah.” His lips split into a smile. “Being mad at you sucked.”

I liked that it was hard for him to be mad at me. And maybe I liked it a little too much.

Alice. Then.

I had no good reasons for wanting to learn how to drive except that I was sixteen years old and I felt the universe owed it to me. I would never go to college or have my own apartment, but I could drive. When I’d put it on my list, I’d envisioned myself on an open road, going ninety, but, admittedly, I wasn’t so good at the whole driving thing, so this parking lot would be the closest I’d get to an open road. I asked Harvey to teach me a few weeks after our fight. He’d been stubborn at first, refusing to teach me in his precious little car. When he realized I wasn’t going to stop asking, he obliged me, but only if we stuck to the old, abandoned SaveMart parking lot.

I wove up and down the empty lot with Harvey in the passenger seat. I’d skipped out on my usual breakfast of pain meds this morning so that I would be alert. Turning the wheel felt different than—