Side Effects May Vary

Tuesday was Operation. I couldn’t hold my hand steady enough and got frustrated, so I sabotaged Harvey by punching him in the armpit. Wednesday was Monopoly. I won and foreclosed on every inch of Harvey’s property. Thursday was Life. I was in charge of doling out the little peg figures and made the executive decision that all of Harvey’s stick people would be pink and mine blue. I chose not to marry and sold all my children to a traveling eastern European Iron-Curtain-era traveling circus. Harvey and his life partner, Rhonda, had nineteen children, which we caravanned in other cars using twisty ties found in the kitchen drawers. Friday was Clue. I killed everyone, using every weapon, every time. The end. (Actually, it was the maid.)

I took every chance I could to bend over with my ass in the air or to brush my boobs up against Harvey’s arm. I felt pretty stupid, but I didn’t know how else to stop him from forgetting. Because now that I couldn’t have him, I knew that I would never get over him—at least not any time soon. It could’ve been because Eric was gone, but every time I thought about him with Debora, I felt like someone was ripping off my fingernails one by one.

But what if this worked? What if he couldn’t resist me and he broke up with Debora? His happiness would depend on me, and that was a weight I didn’t know if I could carry. I thought about all the ways I could give Harvey happiness, but everything I could do for him seemed to rely on my inability to be consistent and present—to be always. There was still that one thing on my list that I hadn’t been able to complete. Something I could give to Harvey, a little piece of satisfaction that would be all for him and not at all for me. It was the thing I planned out in my head in those moments between asleep and awake when my brain was unable to tell the difference between dreams and reality.

After playing Clue with Harvey on Friday afternoon, I passed out on the couch. I woke to a darker, quieter house than what I’d fallen asleep to and a blanket tucked around my shoulders. Rain tapped against the windows as the smell of coffee wafted in from the kitchen. I followed it to find my dad sitting at the table with a half-empty mug of coffee, reading a bright green book about new wave music.

“Where is everybody?”

“Oh, hey,” he said, sitting up a little straighter and pulling on his earlobe. “Picking up Chinese food. Should be back soon.”

I sat down in the chair next to him. “How long was I asleep?”

He folded over the page he’d been reading and closed his book. “Only a few hours.” He took a sip of his coffee.

I nodded and touched my fingers to my cheek, feeling the creases left by the couch. “Hey, Dad?”

“Yeah?” He looked at me and I couldn’t hold his gaze, because I was scared he would see all the things I’d ever seen and know all the truths I’d never told him. Not telling him about Mom made my throat ache. I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek. “Did you ever meet Harvey’s dad?”

He shook his head. “Never met the guy.”

“You don’t know anything about him?”

“Nope. Natalie only talked to your mom about that stuff.” He leaned forward. “How come? Did Harvey say something?”

“No. No, I was—”

“We’ve got egg rolls!” called my mom from the front door.

Dad patted my arm. “Grab some plates, would you?”

“Okay.”

We ate dinner and when we were done, we each plucked a fortune cookie from the bag full of leftover soy sauce packets. Mom made everyone read theirs out loud. Dad’s was about taking a chance on a sudden business venture. Natalie’s said something about patience making the world go ’round. Mom’s told her to let compassion guide her decisions.

Harvey cleared his throat. “‘Every road has a fork.’”

It was my turn; I cracked my cookie open, but it was empty.

Alice. Now.

“Alice. Alice, wake up.” Harvey hovered over me. I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my palms, and stretched my muscles so hard they stung. “You just fell asleep, but—”

“No shit,” I mumbled.

He stared down at me the way teachers always did. “Like I was saying, you just fell asleep, but look,” he said, pointing to the window at the foot of our bed.

I pulled myself upright. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the lack of light. I twisted around and slid onto my stomach, facing the foot of the bed. Harvey stood on the ladder, watching me.

I stuck my neck out over the edge of the bed and immediately saw what he was referring to. Stars. Thousands, probably millions or trillions of stars hung against the black velvet sky. The rain had stopped and the clouds were gone.

“I can’t wait to get in the ocean tomorrow,” Harvey said. “I wish we could go in tonight.”

Harvey had always loved to swim. I told myself that I didn’t mind it, but the ocean always made me uneasy. It was so bottomless and unknown. That’s why I surprised myself when I said, “Now. Let’s go now.”