Saving Toby

by Suzanne McKenna Link

  “I went on a job interview yesterday.”

  His dark brows came together. “What kind of job? What about your schoolwork and Sterling?”

  “It won’t interfere with either,” I said, picking up a slice of bread off the kitchen table and lifting the lid off the pot.

  He shook his wooden spoon at me. “You’ll get bread in my gravy.”

  Ignoring him, I waited until the bread absorbed the zesty sauce, saying, “It’s an aide job, three nights a week at a private home. I start tomorrow night.” I folded the whole piece into my mouth. The taste was as delicious as the smell.

  “Where is this job?”

  Chewing slowly, I leaned my hip against the counter and looked him right in the eyes. I swallowed hard.

  “Remember the Fayes? On Roosevelt Avenue?”

  Without pause, my father said, “You are not working for Al Faye.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Dad, the man’s dead, and Mrs. Faye is very sick.”

  “Well, that’s a shame.” Dad pointed. “Set the table. If I remember correctly, there were two boys. One’s a convicted felon. Where’s the other one?”

  “Toby is still there.” I went to the cabinet and took out dishes.

  “What’s his story? He’s been in trouble?”

  “I don’t think so. You’d know, wouldn’t you?”

  “Ah, probably just a matter of time before we arrest him for something.” Dad added some salt to the pot and tasted it.

  “That’s not a nice thing to say,” I chided him.

  “I don’t want you there, in that environment,” he said.

  “Unless the older son breaks out of prison, I think I’ll be safe.”

  “In seriously damaged families like theirs, the residual effects always spiral down to the kids. The older boy was ruined, and, mark my words, if there is trouble to be found, the younger boy is going to find it, too.”

  “I’ll only be doing some cooking and cleaning three nights a week. How much trouble can I find?”

  He put the pot on the table. “Why do you need a job?”

  My father’s upbringing was steeped in tradition. My grandparents were off the boat from Italy. Like all the men in his family, my father was upright, moral and fiercely protective of what belonged to him. Timeless, admirable traits perhaps, but the tradition of male dominance over the home was such a throwback to the Old Country, it should’ve stayed there. My German mother was fifth generation American—liberal and open minded. She raised me to be independent. Being an obedient wife was not something she ever aspired to be. How they got together, I’ll never understand.

  With my father, I learned early on that it was easier to do as I was told. I also figured out that if I really wanted something, I had to dig my heels in and be stubborn, more so than him.

  “Please, Dad. At Sterling, I don’t actually get to do anything but play games with the residents.” For good measure, I laid a hand on his arm. “With this job, I’ll be hands-on. I’ll be helping Mrs. Faye do so much. It’s great career training.”

  He stroked his thick, dark mustache thoughtfully.

  Finally, he said, “I’m going to call Mrs. Faye and get the details.”

  I hated that he felt it necessary to check up on me, but it was a small price to pay for the toehold.

  After dinner, I called April.

  “I don’t get it. Why do you want to work?” she asked. “If my parents gave me gas, clothing and going-out money, you wouldn’t find me working.”

  April had gone right from getting her hairdresser’s license to working full-time in a salon. Her large Cuban family expected her to support herself and pitch in on finances.

  I tried to explain. “If I’m lucky enough to get him to go along with USC, I don’t want to push it by hitting him up for cash while I’m there,” I said. “Besides, it’s about time I start making my own decisions. I’m tired of being a marionette.”

  “You’re like Pinocchio-ette,” she teased. “You just want to be a real girl.”

  April had a way of twisting things to make me laugh at myself. It was good. I needed to lighten up sometimes.

  “I saw Toby,” I told her.

  “You did?” April’s voice went up an octave. “How’s he doing? And how does he look? I bet he’s even better looking now than he was in high school.”

  “He’s doing okay, I guess. We didn’t get a chance to talk much.”

  “And?”

  I didn’t want to give her ammo, but I also knew she wouldn’t let it go until I spilled it.

  “He’s very good-looking,” I grudgingly confessed.

  “Ohh, you and a hot guy under the same roof,” she purred. “This job could prove interesting. I mean, you haven’t been out with a guy since Fast Phil.”

  I groaned at the mention of the name. Phil was a guy I’d dated briefly my freshman year in college. It ended before it had really started because the guy was all hands.

  Despite my long dating hiatus, April’s speculation about Toby Faye did not thrill me.

  “He might be good-looking, but we have absolutely zilch in common. And, really, I’m far too busy with school and my volunteer work to entertain your crazy pair-ups.”

  “Chica, why you always have to spoil my fun?”

  * * *

  On Wednesday, I headed over to the Fayes’ for my first evening of work. Mrs. Reitman was there to greet me and show me around the house. Leaving me with a list, she departed for the night.

  While Mrs. Faye slept, I decided to start with some cleaning in the kitchen. The refrigerator was full of plastic and foil wrapped food dishes, compliments of the church ladies, I suspected. I pulled everything out to the kitchen table, chucked a few suspicious items, and began scrubbing the inside of the refrigerator.

  “What’s going on in here?” I jumped at the sound of Toby’s deep voice.

  Shielded from his view by the door of the refrigerator, I leaned back to peer around it and saw him grinning at me.

  He eyed the table and turned back to me. “Someone’s awfully hungry.”

  “I can never resist the urge to raid an overstocked refrigerator,” I joked.

  “Cool. I like a girl with a good appetite,” he said, as he began lifting foil covers to inspect the contents before he leaned back against the counter and faced me.

  Avoiding his gaze, I turned back to wiping down the inside of the fridge.

  “So, what do you think of all this?” he asked.

  Brushing hair from my face, I said, “I think the amount of food in here is obscene.”

  Toby just laughed and shook his head. “I mean, I haven’t seen you since middle school, and now you’re here in my house, cleaning the refrigerator.” He crossed his arms and eyed me. “Kind of strange, no?”

  Flushing, I scrambled to reply. “I guess. But I’m glad I can help your mom. She’s really sweet.”

  “Yeah. She is.” He nodded. “So, what have you been up to? Going to college?”

  “Yes, I’m at Stony Brook right now,” I said. “But I just applied to transfer.”

  “Not happy over at the Brook?”

  “SBU is great, but I’d like to try someplace new,” I said.

  He opened his mouth to reply, but we were startled by a loud bang at the front of the house, followed by the crashing sound of the front door opening and slamming against the wall.

  “Yo, Faye. Where you at?” The loud booming voice seemed to shake the house.

  “Shit.” Toby’s eyes widened, and he bolted out of the kitchen. I followed.

  “Hey, man.” A big stocky guy with blond hair was leaning up against the door. He looked like he’d been drinking.

  “Dev, man, you can’t come crashing into my house like that.” Toby’s voice was low and serious. “Julia is resting.”

  “Oh, sorry,” he snorted. “Are you ready?”

  Toby shook his head. “I didn’t even have a chance to eat or change out of my work clothes yet.”

  “Hey, who we go
t here?” The big guy saw me standing in the kitchen doorway.

  I ducked back into the kitchen without replying.

  “Leave her alone,” I heard Toby tell him. “She works here.”

  “What kind of work is she doing for you?” I heard him snicker. “You dog.”

  Scrubbing finished, I started to put the food back into the refrigerator, trying not to listen to them mumble to each other. The door opened and shut. Toby reappeared in the kitchen.

  “That was Devlin. He’s a little crazy, but he’s okay.”

  He seemed to want to talk more, but I had finished with the refrigerator and closed the door.

  “I’m going to check on your mother,” I said, using the excuse to escape the kitchen. That was the most I’d ever spoken to Toby. Though he seemed nice enough, his friend Devlin was a reminder that we didn’t have much in common socially.

  I ignored Toby’s presence in the house as I concentrated on getting Mrs. Faye settled into a large easy chair in her bedroom and served her dinner. I would be glad when he was out of the house and I could spend the rest of my shift with her only.

  We talked as she ate, but soon rowdy voices and the distinct pungent odor of marijuana wafted up through the narrowly open bedroom window overlooking the backyard. I glanced out and saw Devlin and another questionable looking guy sitting on the outdoor table set. They were passing a joint and joking around, some of their crude comments loud enough for me to hear.

  “Oh, dear,” Mrs. Faye frowned. “Smells like Toby’s old high school friends are here.”

  I didn’t respond, instead straightened the pill bottle collection on her night table.

  Toby came into the room. His hair was wet, and he had changed out of his work clothes into loose-fitting jeans and a tee shirt. With a slight swagger in his step, he smiled at me as he passed by. His cologne mingled with the smell of shampoo and tickled my nose.

  I hadn’t quite reconciled this new version of Toby with the boy I remembered. The way he held himself, his shoulders back and chest out, he appeared to be much more self-assured. No doubt, many girls found him appealing, but honestly, if I hadn’t been so startled by his transformation, I wouldn’t have given him a second look. He had street attitude written all over him.

  “Hey, Mama Bear,” he said, running his hand over her shoulder. “You’re not ready? I thought we were going out dancing tonight.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” The laughter in her voice belied her frown.

  “You better watch this one.” He motioned to me. “She has a big appetite. She cleaned out our refrigerator.”

  Corny, but I couldn’t help smiling.

  “Claudia, honey, you’re welcome to whatever you want when you’re here,” Mrs. Faye reassured me, oblivious to the teasing.

  “Am I included in that whatever?” He winked at me.

  “Don’t be fresh,” Mrs. Faye warned her son.

  “Hey, look at her, she’s beautiful,” he pointed at me and grinned. “You can’t blame a guy for trying.”

  I felt embarrassed by the attention, but I forced myself to smile at his comment. He kissed his mother on the cheek and told her he’d be home by ten.

  “Wait. I need to talk to you,” Mrs. Faye called to Toby as he started to leave. He halted waiting for her to go on, but she looked to me. “Honey, could you give us a moment alone?”

  “Of course,” I nodded and left the room. I pulled the door closed behind me. I didn’t mean to listen in on their conversation, but the door was thin.

  “Those boys,” Mrs. Faye said. I imagined her shaking her head. “Promise me things will be different while you’re home this time.” This time? Had he been away? At the sound of Mrs. Faye’s pleading voice, I felt fiercely protective of her. I wouldn’t be able to tolerate him if he upset her.

  Toby chuckled. “Okay, Mom. I promise, I promise. I’ll keep it on the down-low, Scout’s honor.”

  I rolled my eyes at the thought of Toby as a scout and jumped back when the door swung open, catching me by surprise.

  “I guess you heard. I’ve been properly chastised, so you can go back in now, but be careful,” he cautioned, making a show to be formal as he held the door for me. “She takes no prisoners.” He made a slicing motion across his neck.

  “Oh, go on, get out of here,” Mrs. Faye laughed, apparently in a better mood. “And behave yourself!”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he saluted her and turned to me. “See ya later,” he said, and very casually flicked a lock of my hair as he walked by.

  Stunned by his boldness, I stared after him as he proceeded to shuffle down the stairs, whistling.

  4. Toby

  Ray Rudack hadn’t changed much since high school. He was still smaller than Devlin and I. Still the sidekick, our comic relief. We pushed him around and teased him for years, and he took it all without complaint. He stuttered when he was nervous and had no other friends. He was also still a freaking mess. Hair hung in his eyes, his breath stank, and the nasty sweatpants he had on looked like he’d been wearing them for days.

  Through most of high school, I’d spent a lot of time at the Rudacks’ house, mostly to avoid home. And Al Junior. It was a place where no one cared what you smoked, how long you stayed, or if your family was messed up.

  We were hanging out in Ray’s kitchen, the same now as then, having a few beers. Leaning against the sink, I looked around. The wall above the stove was yellow with oily residue, the sink had a few dirty dishes in it, and trash overflowed the container. Ray and Dev pushed aside a cheap-looking, plastic flower basket and sat at the table with their stash and rolling papers spread out on the pitted surface. The scent of a burning blunt blew in from the den. Ray’s younger brother and a few friends were hanging out much like we had a few years ago.

  Nothing ever changed.

  We heard a crash from the other room, followed by laughter. Ray leapt out of his chair to investigate, yelling, “Little shit, you’d b-b-better fix that!”

  “Ah, the familiar sounds of brotherly love,” I drawled. Dev snorted.

  The back door opened, and Mrs. Rudack came in. Despite the cool night, she had on a tight, open-neck shirt that made it hard not to notice her perky, surgically enhanced boobs. She was clearly coming in from her own little party out back.

  “Tobeee,” she crooned, pulling me into a hug. “I’ve missed you.”

  Dev and I both agreed. She was a MILF. Her body was tight for her age, though her face was wrecked from years of drinking and hard-core partying—she made us guys look like amateurs.

  “Hello, Mrs. Rudack.” The hug lasted a few awkward moments longer than it should have. I drew away from her.

  “Please call me Diane—I’m not married anymore.” She wagged a finger and smiled at me. “‘Mrs.’ makes me sound so old. If you guys don’t have plans, my girlfriends and I are having drinks out back around the fire pit. You can join us if you want.” She might have meant the invitation for all of us, but her eyes were only on me.

  “No, thanks, Mom,” Ray jumped in. “We’re going into town.”

  “Oh, okay. Maybe some other time.” She batted her eyes at me.

  When she left the room, Dev let out a low catcall.

  “What’d you think of that rack? She took out a loan for those puppies.”

  I raised my eyebrows and smiled. “Impressive.”

  I could see Diane with her two friends through the back door outside drinking and laughing around a small, steel-bowled fire pit. I eyed the prospects. “I don’t know, guys. There are three experienced cougars out there all primed to pounce—one for each of us, but I call dibs on your mother, Ray. I think she’s hot for me.”

  “Shit, with the way she was all up on you, you could definitely get her,” Dev nodded and grinned. “In fact, you’d be my motherfucking hero if you did.”

  “G-guys, come on, that’s m-my mother,” Ray protested weakly, more concerned with rolling and lighting the next joint.

  “Come on, Ray. I haven’t got
ten laid since Florida,” I continued, just to bust his chops. “If I hook up with your mom, you can call me ‘Daddy.’”

  Ray’s eyes grew wide. “Screw you, Faye!” he roared. Dev and I broke up.

  We settled down, but Dev still eyed me with a smirk. “Seriously, dude, you’re not hitting that hot little number hanging out in your kitchen?”

  “I told you she works at the house with Julia.” Playing it casual, I leaned back against the counter and took a sip of my beer.

  He leaned forward. “If you’re not interested, I’d like a crack at her.”

  “Man, you are delusional if you think you have a shot with her.”

  Dev smiled. “Not delusional. Not with these,” he pulled out a baggie with a couple of pills in it. “I’ll mix her a cocktail that will ensure a night of sizzling interaction.”

  I choked on a mouthful of beer, and it dribbled down my chin. I wiped my face with the back of my hand. “You’re fucking crazy if you think I’d let you slip any of those to her.” Just the thought of him touching her pissed me off.

  Dev gritted his teeth and squinted at me. Just as quickly as it came, the anger slipped away, and he leaned back coolly and smiled.

  “Ah, you just want her for yourself.” Dev threw his hand in the air. “And you’ll probably get her, too. Girls like you. Shit, Ray’s mom was practically ready to blow you.”

  “Goddamn it, Dev!” Ray was suddenly on his feet. “Don’t talk about my mother like that!” Totally out of character, with his face twisted in anger, he punched Devlin in the arm.

  We all became quiet. Dev’s eyes flashed. I considered intervening. Provoking Devlin was a death wish. Understanding that he’d overstepped, big time, Ray dropped his arms limply at his sides as his face went blank. Without another word, he sat back down.

  Dev’s nose twitched followed by tight moment of uncertainty. He seemed to calm down … and then he lunged towards Ray, quick as a shot. I thought he might hit the kid after all.

  Instead, he reached forward with a giant hand and swiped the joint Ray was holding. He took a hit and held it out to me. I waved it off.

  Dev slowly exhaled a stream of heady smoke. “Come on, let’s get stewed and rip up the town like we used to.”