Saving Toby

by Suzanne McKenna Link

  I touched my chest. Oops.

  “Um, yes,” I replied, deciding I would not feel guilty about it.

  “Don’t wear it again. It’s far too revealing.”

  Insulted, I put my hands on my hips. “What does it reveal? That I’m a full-grown woman? I feel beautiful in it, and if I want to, I will wear it again.”

  By his expression, I could see Dad was disappointed. “I don’t know my own daughter anymore,” he said stiffly, and then got up and went to bed.

  Dad’s words injured me, as he knew they would, and I went up to my room with a little less bounce in my step. Yet, despite my father’s disapproval, the date had gone so well. Even the run-in with Toby’s friends hadn’t detracted from it. I loved that he had asked me to dance. Had sung in my ear. I would never hear that song again without thinking of Toby and this night.

  Somewhere, nagging in the back of my mind, I knew we still weren’t a perfect fit, but I was way too far gone to care. For maybe the first time in my tediously planned life, I wanted something that didn’t make complete sense.

  I admired myself in the dress one more time. I never even thought I knew how to do sexy. Turning and studying my profile in my dresser mirror, I remembered Toby’s eyes on me.

  For the first time, I was acutely conscious of my femininity. Toby was the first guy who dared to touch me so sexually. His unflagging interest in physical exploits should have scared me, but instead, being the object of his desire left me feeling powerful. I could barely wait to be with him again.

  My father was just going to have to realize his baby was not such a baby after all.

  20. Claudia

  After that first date, our lives fell together seamlessly. Mrs. Faye’s health was the forefront of both of our concerns. We teamed up, keeping her company, doing jigsaw puzzles on the kitchen table, watching television, and barbequing out on the back deck.

  In the beginning of June, I switched my hours around at Sterling, working a few weekdays and freeing the weekends. The rest of my time I divided between seeing April and being with Toby. Dario and April often joined us, and we all went out together, spending a day at the beach or heading to one of the multiplex theaters to see the latest blockbuster.

  Mrs. Faye was on the upswing after her last radiation treatment, and she swore that soon we would not have to babysit her anymore. I assured her I was happy to be there. Being at the Faye house was like having a home away from home—it was comfortable and I always felt welcome.

  It didn’t hurt that the gorgeous guy who lived there had a thing for me.

  Stopping by on a Sunday afternoon, I found Toby and Mrs. Faye sunning out on the back deck. Toby was shirtless and barefoot, wearing only a faded pair of light blue board shorts that hung low on his hips. With a guitar on his lap, he played and sang while Mrs. Faye lay on her chaise lounge, her eyes closed and a contented look on her face.

  Unnoticed, I stayed behind the closed screen door for a few moments to listen to him play and admire the view. My boyfriend was an impressive sight sitting there, half-naked, soaking up the sun. To look at him, there was nothing that said ‘urbane.’ But he was kind and thoughtful—a combination of gentleness, charisma and brawn that was all so very appealing.

  Even now, his tanned, muscular shoulders and chest charged my senses. I drank him in, knowing how warm and hard to the touch his sun-warmed chest would be. Over the last few weeks, as our relationship became more sure-footed, our kisses became more heated and our touches more bold. I’d had moments of unrestrained pleasure, touching and feeling those muscles with both my hands and mouth.

  I had never been in love before, but I was beginning to understand how it happened to people. When Toby came home after work, I grew flustered by just the sound of his work boots inside the house. He would be excited, too. I could tell. His mouth tipped upwards in that cute, mischievous way of his. An undeniable magnetism drew us together, and we would press into each other to hug and touch until our mouths joined. Our kisses were addicting, neither of us wanting to stop, but each time, struggling to pull away, he begged me to let him go so he could shower and get clean for me. Eventually, I would release him waiting impatiently for him to come back to me.

  There were times when all I wanted to do was to watch him. But, oh, the never-ending need to touch him, even just casually, was particularly distracting. I was dumbstruck to think I was having my first, true romance with Toby Faye. How could I ever know I would feel this way?

  Head bent, Toby concentrated, his capable fingers strumming the chords and creating beautiful music. He sang along with the melody, his singing voice in perfect pitch with the unfamiliar song. The piece was slow, and it appeared that he was singing his mother a love song. I was moved by the scene before me.

  Once Toby saw me though, he stopped playing.

  “Hey,” he smiled. Forced out of my hiding spot, I stepped out onto the back deck. Mrs. Faye lifted a hand to wave at me.

  Guitar pick in his hand, Toby reached over, snagged a belt loop on my jeans shorts and drew me to him. Laying my hands upon his shoulders to steady myself, I reveled in the heat of his skin, as hot as I had imagined. He planted a quick kiss on my lips and released me. I enjoyed the natural ease in which he kissed me in front of his mother. I settled down next to Mrs. Faye on the lounge chair and began playing with her yellow headscarf. Though her hair was growing back in, it was thin. She still needed to protect her scalp from the sun.

  “That was pretty. Did you write it?” I asked him.

  “No. John Lennon did,” he said. “He wrote it for his mother.”

  “I like that,” Mrs. Faye said. “I like when I hear about celebrities honoring their mothers. Because, really, where would anyone be without their mother?”

  Toby shrugged. “Unborn?”

  I giggled while Mrs. Faye pretended to disapprove of his sarcasm. Then she asked him to play something else.

  Toby bowed his head over the guitar, and I heard the familiar sweet notes of “Something.” Our song now. With a voice deep and sure, he smiled his alluring grin at me as he sang.

  After a month of his sexy, sometimes sly and often comical innuendos, I was still learning how to handle them without turning three shades of red. I smiled coyly at him, making sure he knew I appreciated his choice of song.

  * * *

  Toby started to gripe about his job at the electronics store more and more each week. His boss, Abe Bernbaum, seemed to be pushing Toby’s buttons. We talked about other ways he could make a living. He seemed to have a natural gift for playing guitar, and I had suggested that he could give lessons. Although it might be good as a side job, it wouldn’t be a viable source of primary income. He needed benefits, insurance and all.

  After some needling from both his mother and me, Toby met with a career counselor at Suffolk County Community College and signed up for the first part of a series of computer classes. The classes, which began in the fall, would result in a certification.

  It was a step in the right direction. Everyone needed a goal, and I was determined to help Toby establish one. And to get serious about it.

  I had my own goals to worry about, too. At home, I remained respectful. I came in at my usual midnight curfew and did my chores without complaint, but conversations between Dad and me trickled to a brief give and take of information. We ate dinner and went to church together, but we barely talked about things other than those pertaining to household matters. I was insulted and more than a little hurt that he continued to begrudge Toby, but since he had quieted down considerably, I wasn’t about to rock the boat.

  If my father’s and my discord weren’t upsetting enough, I appeared to still be on USC’s mailing list. Weekly, informational letters effectively taunted me with details on orientation and start dates for the upcoming fall semester. As I glumly tossed another letter into the recycling bin, I was sure at that very minute, somewhere on the USC campus, someone was applying a sticky label with my address to yet another envelope. I contemp
lated calling the registrar to inform them of the terrible reality—I would not be attending USC.

  21. Toby

  I took the turn into the driveway too fast, and the Jeep bounced roughly to a halt. I threw it into park and yanked the keys from the ignition. I wanted a cigarette, but would settle for a beer and the possibility that I could coax Claude somewhere private to help me forget about work. I didn’t know how much longer I would be able to last with Abe Bernbaum, the little troll.

  It was perfect timing that Claudia happened to be in the kitchen when I came in. I forgot about the beer and went for her first. I pushed her back against the counter and kissed her hungrily. She opened her mouth, easily accepting and meeting my tongue with hers. The edginess of the day began to fall away; everything inside me brought to a standstill. As our kisses heated up, my hands edged over her hips, and my gears began to click and turn in a whole new direction.

  She dragged her mouth from mine. “Easy, Romeo. You’re all fired up.”

  “I had another shitty day,” I sighed, and pulled back.

  “What did Abe do now?”

  I let her go and went to the fridge for a brew. “He double checked my delivery this morning, and when I offered to lock up tonight, he wouldn’t give me a key. This job is not nuclear science. I’m capable. Really, I’m over-fucking-qualified, but he doesn’t trust me. Cocksucker.”

  She winced at my language. I popped the top off my bottle and took a swig of beer.

  “Maybe it has something to do with the robbery a few years ago,” she said.

  “What robbery?”

  “Some kids broke into the store. My father said besides stealing the cash from the register, they roughed him up pretty bad.”

  “Well, he needs to get over it.”

  “I’m sure he’d like to,” she murmured, meeting my eyes. “But sometimes people have a really hard time facing what scares them the most.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed, though I was distracted by her mouth again. I moved in closer to her, putting my beer on the counter behind her. Without actually touching her, I leaned in and whispered in her ear. “What’d ya say we go up to my room for a little one-on-one?”

  Claude twitched and let out a little nervous laughter. It wasn’t the reaction I’d hoped for, and I pulled back to look at her face.

  “I have something I want to talk to you about.” She pointed to the kitchen table, and I looked over my shoulder. Lying there was a creased piece of loose-leaf paper. I reached over and grabbed it.

  I recognized the block-styled handwriting. Gritting my teeth, I waved it in her face. “What the fuck is this?”

  She lowered her chin and eyed me cautiously. “It’s one of your brother’s letters.”

  “Yeah, it is. Why do you have it?”

  “I was helping your mother clean her room out. We came across the letters …”

  I wasn’t listening anymore. I charged towards the stairs. “Where the hell are the rest?”

  Julia was standing outside her room, and I thundered up the steps taking them two at time to get to her. “Ma, where are the rest of those letters?”

  “Honey, calm down. We only opened the one.” Julia tried to touch me, but I pushed her hands away.

  “The two of you have some goddamn nerve. Give me the rest of them. I want them. Now!”

  With a tight face, Julia scrutinized me before she turned away. Returning with the small stack of letters, she held them back, out of my reach.

  “Toby, I’ll give them to you, but I want you to read them. Please.”

  “When I agreed to take you up for those visits, you promised you wouldn’t do this! You promised!” I yelled, and punched the hallway wall. The sheetrock dimpled under my fist. I reached forward and snapped the letters from her clutch. “Al’s no longer a part of my life. And he’s never going to be a part of it again. Ever!”

  I spun around and almost bulldozed over Claudia behind me. She jumped out of my way.

  “What are you going to do?” she asked, as I stormed down the hall to Al’s room.

  I didn’t answer. Darkness slipped over me and snarled for release—it had a life of its own and now that it was awake, I had no control over it. Yanking Al’s old dresser away from the wall, I pitched it off balance. Wood splintered as it toppled over, crashing loudly to the floor. And still Darkness wasn’t satisfied, so I sent other objects flying after it.

  I could hear Julia and Claudia yammering in the hall. Their conversation floated around me as if I weren’t actually there.

  “Oh, my God! What should we do?”

  “Leave him, it’s alright. It’ll blow over.”

  Darkness did not retreat until Al’s room looked like a tsunami hit it.

  Winded, bruised and achy, I collapsed on the floor among the debris.

  “Holy cow,” Claude gasped by the door. She and Julia had been watching me the whole time. Claude’s eyes jumped around nervously, but Julia, noticeably pale, only shook her head at me and disappeared down the hallway.

  “What a fucking mess,” I mumbled to myself, staring at the ceiling.

  Claudia glanced around the room at my trail of destruction.

  “Just a tad extreme,” she snipped. “I mean, seriously, it was only a letter.”

  I was too spent to exert any more energy. I leaned back against Al’s bed frame.

  “I meant it when I told you two I didn’t want anything to do with Al.”

  “And that’s your excuse for this mess?” She raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow at me. “Your reaction was over-the-top, bordering on crazy.”

  She turned on heel and left me in that detonated minefield.

  I felt so stupid, humiliated by my own behavior and embarrassed that she’d witnessed it.

  Julia came in after I had most of the furniture back in place. Stepping inside, she picked up Al’s old alarm clock and an almost empty bottle of cologne and placed them on the dresser.

  “Stop. I’ll do it,” I told her.

  “I’m used to your temper, but others aren’t,” she said. “It can scare people.”

  “Claude’s not scared. She’s pissed,” I said.

  She moved to the doorway. “You need to learn how to calm yourself down before things get out of hand. Maybe you should go back to church. Ask God to help guide you.”

  I snorted. “Ma, if you’d just let the Al thing go, this would have never happened.”

  “Is it so wrong to want my boys to get along? Is it wrong to forgive him just because you fought years ago?”

  I closed my eyes and willed myself not to let her stir me up, again. It was probably my own fault for keeping it from her—for never telling her how bad it was at times or just how cruel Al could be.

  When I didn’t answer, she said, “Well, at the very least, you should go talk to Claudia. Apologize for behaving this way.”

  “Go back to your Bible and stay out of my business,” I snapped.

  Finally, Julia walked away. I set a now cracked framed photo of Al and Felicia back on the dresser and headed for the stairs.

  “Hey,” I said, as I entered the kitchen where Claudia was cutting up some vegetables over the table. Continuing her task, she ignored me.

  “I had a bad day. I let my mood get the best of me.”

  Finally, she let her eyes meet mine. “It upset me to see you caught up in so much anger. It was frightening.”

  I leaned my head back and blew out. “Claude, I’m sorry. It’s just that this thing with my brother… it’s a mess. It’ll never be right,” my voice cracked and floated away.

  “I’m sorry you and your brother don’t get along, but really it’s no excuse.”

  I went behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist.

  “Don’t.” Obviously still upset, she tried to shrug me off.

  “It won’t happen again, and besides, I’m not the only one at fault here. You opened that letter without my permission.”

  Frowning, she turned around to look up at me. “Th
at’s true, but you suggested that I could read them on our first date.”

  “That was the night you wore that dress. I was in a weakened state,” I said. “I probably would have agreed to cut my arm off.”

  She tried to hold back a smile. “I should have asked. I’m sorry I didn’t.”

  “If I promise to control my temper and behave, can we call a cease and desist?”

  Claudia’s look was so intense it felt like she was studying me, trying to decipher the many gray areas.

  I closed my eyes. “Stop looking at me like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like you can see inside me. It makes me all twisted up.”

  She sighed, “Okay, I cease and desist.”

  When I opened my eyes, a tiny smile had cracked her stern expression. Relieved at the sight of it, I raised my hands to her face.

  “I don’t want you ever to be frightened of me. I would never hurt you,” I whispered. Pressing my mouth to hers, I felt the tension leave her body as she answered my kiss with her own.

  After a few moments, she pulled back and bit her lip.

  “Just so you know, in the letter, your brother said he wants to see you.”

  I took a breath and calmed myself. “See,” I said. “This is me controlling my anger.”

  22. Claudia

  One afternoon the last week in June, my cell phone rang just as I was finishing up at the senior home. I didn’t recognize the area code.

  “Hi, this is Claudia,” I answered.

  “Hello, Claudia. This is Caroline Watson. I’m with admissions over at USC. I have your application for our Davis School of Gerontology here in front of me. I see it was put on hold, and, well, we called to see if you were still interested.”

  I froze. “Yes,” I answered on a delayed inhale.

  “Then I think it might make you happy to know we’ve had a spot open up, and it’s yours if you want it.”

  I hadn’t yet left the Sterling grounds. I was so surprised over the news, I dropped down onto one of the wooden benches by the front doors.