Side Effects May Vary

I was angry. Boiling. Last night I chose Harvey. This morning Harvey chose Debora. And now this: My mom was finally biting back at me, like I’d been waiting for. She had changed so much when I was sick, so much to the point that I doubted she was even the same person anymore. Of all days, she chose today to fight back. Everything beneath my skin felt like it was on fire. I wiggled my wrist out of her grip. With the skillet still in my hand, I swung my arm. Then I let go, sending the iron skillet straight through the sliding glass door and into the living room of the beach house.

My mom’s jaw dropped. Very few things could shock my mother, but this had. Hell, it shocked me too. At the sound of shattering glass, Natalie, my dad, Harvey, and Debora all flooded the living room, the glass crunching beneath their feet.

“I saw you,” I whispered. “I saw you with a man that wasn’t Dad. I waited for you to tell me.” And now I was sobbing, screaming and sobbing. “For you to be honest with me because we always tell the truth, even when we think it does more harm than good,” I said, reciting her own words back to her. “You should’ve left us then. Ripped the Band-Aid off. Because the lies are destroying us,” I said, my voice catching on every syllable. “You ruined me. You made me this way. This.” I motioned to myself, my chest heaving now. “Is your fault. And now it’s too late to fix it.”

Then I ran, as fast as I could, as far away as I could.

I couldn’t look at my dad. I couldn’t bear to see what this truth did to him. But it was out now. I didn’t know who I’d been lying for, who I’d been keeping Mom’s secrets for. But now there were no more secrets between them, and it was up to my parents to decide what they would do with that truth. As for me, I was done with it.

When the beach house was only a speck on the horizon, I collapsed in the sand. I didn’t know how long I sat there before Harvey plopped down next to me.

“Leave, Harvey.”

“Not until I explain.”

“No,” I said, “let me explain.”

“Alice, I—”

“You are in love with me, and you always have been. But this is the truth, Harvey: I don’t love you. Not at all. Not you, not anyone, not anything.” And because that wasn’t enough, because I hadn’t done enough damage, I said, “You’re sad and pathetic. You have no spine, and the fact that you think someone like me could ever love someone like you only proves my point.”

“Stop it.”

“I used you. You know it. I know it. Everyone fucking knows it.” Each word built one on top of the other like a brick wall. Harvey didn’t want me, but I couldn’t let him be the one to close this door. I couldn’t. “Everything you thought was real is a lie. Don’t pretend like you don’t know that. You were a means to an end, Harvey. There’s nothing else you can do for me, so leave. I don’t need you. I don’t want you.”

He sat there for a moment.

“Leave.”

“This is it, Alice. This is really it. When I leave, I’m not coming back to you. I’m not saving your ass. I’m not going to be your partner in crime. I’m not going to be that guy for you anymore. You never seem to be done with me, but trust me when I say, I am done with you.”

Then he left, and with him he took the sun, the moon, the stars, and anything inside of me that might have been good.

Harvey. Now.

Every little thing between us had led to this moment. I should have known Alice would tell me to leave. I think, maybe, part of me did know. Everything about it felt desperate yet inevitable, and no matter which way we went, this was the end of our story. But still, standing out there on the edge of the beach, I expected something to happen. Even though she rarely ever gave me any reason to think she might be anyone other than herself.

I was so angry. You were a means to an end, Harvey. There’s nothing else you can do for me, so leave. I don’t need you. I don’t want you. She couldn’t say those things to me. She couldn’t. I should have told her about Debora, and that was my fault. But it didn’t feel like that mattered anymore. The world around us had exploded, and there was no determining what blame belonged to whom.

I trudged back up the beach to where my mom, Bernie, Martin, and Debora all waited on the back porch. The wind whipped around me, sand burning my legs as I began to jog toward them and away from Alice.

Last night was an anomaly, one last night of good. But now that was gone, and with it so were we. I couldn’t go back to her again. Because if I did, I’d never be able to look at myself, and she would always know that when it came to us, she called all the shots. I loved her—but it didn’t make me happy anymore. Not even a little bit.