The Awakening

by McBean, Brett

  “I’m not thanking him for you,” Gloria said. “You know that. So, how about it?”

  Toby shrugged. “Maybe.”

  “I don’t understand why you’re so afraid to speak to him,” Gloria said.

  Toby shuffled back over to his bed. He sat down and sipped more of the coffee. It was strange, but ever since the attack he had grown fond of coffee.

  “You should be up and moving around,” Gloria said. “Especially in the mornings. You need to work the stiffness out of your body.”

  “I know, I know. But if it’s a choice between being a little stiff or walking around in pain, I think I’d rather be stiff.” He chuckled. But it hurt, so he stopped.

  Frankie would’ve liked that one.

  Gloria sighed. “Suit yourself.” She started for the door. “So you coming down?”

  “I need to have a shower first. I’ll be down in about ten minutes.”

  “Okay, but hurry.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we’re going outside today and enjoying the sunshine.”

  Toby said, “You’re starting to sound like my mother,” and Gloria grinned as she left the room.

  “I thought you were never going to finish in the shower,” his mom said when Toby walked into the kitchen.

  He limped over to the table and sat opposite Gloria. “And miss out on a day full of pain and sorrow?”

  His mom hopped up, poured him a fresh mug of coffee, and brought it over to him. “Now Toby, don’t be smart.”

  Toby took the mug and sipped the coffee. “Me? I’m as dumb as they come.”

  He could hear the lawn mower growling out back. The sound brought back a time when he was happy, his world normal.

  “So what are the plans for today?” his mom asked.

  “Toby and I are going for a nice walk, aren’t we?” Gloria said, smiling at Toby.

  His mom’s face brightened. “Really?”

  “I don’t know, maybe,” Toby mumbled.

  “Why don’t you go over and see Suzie? I’m sure she would love to see you. Only if you feel up to it, of course. You know what the doctor said about taking it easy.”

  “Suzie comes around practically every day,” Toby said.

  And drunk, to boot.

  It was true, Suzie did pop around nearly every day, but that wasn’t the reason Toby was hesitant in going over to her house. He hadn’t been there since getting out of the hospital, and the thought of entering the place where Frankie used to live, where they had spent so much of their youth, terrified him. He feared the moment he stepped inside, saw all the familiar surroundings, the memories would be too overwhelming and he’d fall into a sobbing mess on the floor.

  “I suggested we go over and see Mr. Joseph,” Gloria said.

  “That’s a wonderful idea. You still haven’t thanked him for what he did.”

  “Why does everyone insist I go over and thank him? I’ll just send him a note or something.”

  His mom flashed Gloria a worried glance, said, “Well, I’ll leave you two alone,” then left the kitchen.

  “I wish she would just leave me alone,” Toby sighed.

  “Your mom just loves you, that’s all,” Gloria said. “She worries about you.” She paused and looking down at the table, said, “Like I do.”

  Heat washed through Toby’s body. They had become good friends in the month since the attack, but Gloria had never said anything like that to him before.

  Gloria got to her feet. “Mind if I get a drink?”

  “Ah, no, help yourself.”

  Toby continued to drink his second mug of coffee as Gloria walked to the fridge. An uncomfortable air of silence hung between them when Gloria sat back down, a can of Coke in her hand. She popped open the can and took a long drink. The constant whir of the mower purred in the background.

  Gloria broke the silence by saying, “This is your last can of Coke, sorry. I’ll go down to Barb’s and get you some more.”

  “You don’t have to, you know,” Toby said.

  “I don’t mind. The walk will do me good. Maybe you can come?”

  “No, I mean you don’t have to spend all your time with me. You have other friends.”

  Gloria stared at Toby. He could almost hear her thinking, Yeah, but you don’t.

  “I like spending time with you,” Gloria said. She leaned over the table and pecked him on the lips. When she pulled back, they stared at each other.

  Toby’s heart was racing.

  “Sorry,” Gloria said.

  “What? Don’t be,” Toby stammered.

  Didn’t she know how much he cared for her? How much he wanted to kiss her, hold her, touch her?

  “So, um, I’ll come with you to Barb’s, if you want.”

  Gloria nodded. “I’d like that. Only if you’re feeling up for the walk.”

  “Sure. I’ll just let Mom know. I’ll meet you out front.”

  Gloria nodded, finished off her drink, hopped up from the table, then headed for the back door.

  When she was gone, Toby eased out a shaky breath. For the first time in a month he had something else on his mind, besides the attack.

  She kissed me! Gloria kissed me!

  It might’ve simply been a friendly gesture—after all, she had become his closest friend in such a short amount of time—but he felt there was more to it than that.

  She was the one who came to see me after the attack. She made the first move. She must care about me, must have feelings for me.

  After finding his mom and telling her that he was going with Gloria down to Barb’s, Toby hurried outside, where the day was bright, and the heat pressed down like a hot iron.

  Gloria got up from her seat on the porch when Toby shut the front door.

  She looked radiant in the sunlight. Toby thought about the kiss and heat spread through his body once again.

  Gloria took a hold of his hand; her skin felt soft, warm, and was slightly damp with sweat.

  “Come on,” she said and they walked hand-in-hand up Pineview. “Are you sure you don’t want to make a quick stop at Mr. Joseph’s? We’re going past his house anyway.”

  “Well...”

  They stopped opposite the weathered old house. The old man was no longer in the front yard doing the gardening.

  Thank God for that, Toby thought.

  “You would only have to see him for a minute or so.”

  Toby stared at the house across the street. “Maybe tomorrow,” he said. And sighed.

  “Okay,” Gloria said and Toby detected a hint of disappointment in her voice.

  They continued up the street.

  Toby was downstairs watching TV when the doorbell rang.

  “Would you get that?” his mom said, voice sleepy. She was sitting in the seat beside him, eyes closed.

  Toby hopped off the sofa, wandered to the front door and pulled it open.

  “Hey Tobes,” Suzie said, and kissed him on the cheek. She smelled of perfume and whiskey. Toby let her in and closed the door. “Whatcha doing?”

  “Nothing. Just watching TV.”

  “Anything good?”

  Toby shrugged. He had no idea what he had been watching. His mind was on other matters, namely what had happened today with Gloria.

  Suzie chuckled. Her body no longer wobbled like it used to. She had lost a frightening amount of weight in the month since Frankie’s death, and sometimes Toby had trouble accepting that it was the same person.

  “Come in, have a seat.”

  Suzie followed Toby into the family room. She sat in the old wicker chair, Toby sat back on the couch.

  “Hi Suzie,” Toby’s mom said, sitting up and rubbing her eyes.

  “Hi yourself. Sorry to wake you”

  “I was only dozing. Toby, turn the television down.”

  Toby picked up the remote and turned the sound down.

  “Thank you,” his mom said. “So how are you?” she asked Suzie.

  Suzie smiled weakly and shrugged. “It
wasn’t too bad today. Not good, but not terrible.”

  “Well you’re looking well,” his mom said, and Toby could tell she was lying.

  “Bullshit,” Suzie said. “Thanks, but bullshit.”

  Apparently so could Suzie.

  “She does, doesn’t she Toby?”

  “I guess,” Toby said and glanced at Suzie. She winked at him.

  Thankfully Suzie wasn’t too wasted tonight. Some nights, and occasionally days, she would turn up at their house drunk off her face, rambling about men, how the good ones always die and the bad ones live.

  He hated it when Suzie was drunk. He loved her, but it annoyed him.

  “Where’s David?” Suzie asked.

  “At his Sunday night poker game.”

  Suzie nodded. “So, how are you feeling, Tobes?”

  “All right,” he told her.

  “He walked all the way to Barb’s and back today,” his mom said, proudly.

  “No kidding?”

  “It was nothing,” Toby said.

  “Speaking of Barb’s, I saw Mr. Joseph in there today.”

  “Working?”

  “No, he was buying some kind of alcohol, rum, I think it was, and some herbal tea.”

  “Is that right?” Toby’s mom said, trying her hardest to sound interested—after all, the old man had saved her son’s life.

  “Yeah, quiet man. I said hi, and he just nodded.”

  “Did he buy any chicken?” Toby asked.

  “What sort of question is that?” his mom said.

  Suzie furrowed her brow. “No. Not that I recall. Why?”

  Toby shrugged. “No reason.”

  “He can be a strange boy sometimes,” his mom said, reaching over and patting Toby on the leg.

  “No stranger than the rest of us,” Suzie said and smiled at Toby. Toby smiled back, and the need to cry suddenly overwhelmed him. Holding back the tears, he stood and headed towards the kitchen.

  “Where are you going?” his mom said.

  “Drink,” he squeezed out. “Anybody want one?”

  “No thanks,” his mom said.

  “I’ll have a coffee, if you’re making one,” Suzie said.

  Toby nodded and hurried into the kitchen, where he stood by the sink and wept.

  Get a grip, you crybaby, he told himself, but the tears continued to flow like water from a busted faucet.

  He went about making the coffee, and by the time he had finished, the tears had stopped. “Here ya go,” he said, handing the steaming mug of coffee to Suzie.

  “Thanks darling. Isn’t he just the sweetest kid?”

  “He sure is,” his mom said.

  “Can I be excused?” Toby said.

  “Are you feeling okay?” his mom asked.

  “Just a bit sore and tired.”

  “Sure. Get some rest.”

  “Night, Tobes. See ya tomorrow, unless you’ve got plans with Gloria.” She grinned. “Oh, and by the way, Leah says hi.”

  “Well, say hi back.”

  “What is Leah up to tonight?” his mom asked.

  Suzie huffed. “Doing god-knows-what with Debbie and Dwayne, most probably.” She said the names Debbie and Dwayne like they were rat poison on her tongue.

  “I’ve told her time and time again that they’re a bunch of no-good losers. Sluts and criminals. But you think she listens? I think she’ll...”

  Toby left the family room, missing the rest of the conversation.

  He headed straight upstairs and into his room.

  Toby couldn’t sleep. His ribs ached and the heat was oppressive, but these weren’t what kept him staring up at the murky shadows of the ceiling.

  He was thinking about the attack.

  Toby only had the vaguest recollections of that night. He remembered walking to Jinks Field with Frankie, going over to get his bike, but everything after that was a blank. The next thing he remembered was waking up in the hospital the following day, wondering why his parents’ faces looked so old, puffy and sad. It didn’t make sense; Toby wasn’t dead, he was lying in hospital looking up at them, so why were they so sad?

  He learnt of Frankie’s death a few moments later when his mom broke down and told him how sorry she was, how very, very sorry, but there was nothing anyone could’ve done, he had been too badly beaten, and Oh Toby, I’m so sorry but Frankie’s dead...

  He hadn’t believed it at first. How could he? There was no way that his best friend in the whole wide world was dead. Things like that just didn’t happen, not to him, not to Frankie, not in their quiet town. But when he looked up at his dad, at a face that had aged so strikingly, Toby was almost fooled into thinking he was looking at his Grandpa who had been dead three years, Toby knew it was true.

  “I’m so sorry son,” his dad had said, voice trembling. Then he had turned around and sobbed.

  The week that followed was a blur of tears, anger, guilt and pain. Toby had never cried so much in his life and at one point he was truly scared that he would run out of tears and start crying blood. He had never been so angry, either, though he couldn’t fully express that anger due to his own injuries, which included: a busted hand and two broken fingers; a broken nose; broken ribs, head lacerations and a mild concussion.

  He found out from various sources what happened that night; from his parents, Gloria, the cops—he pieced it all together and this is what it amounted to: at around ten to ten on Monday, June 16, a person or persons had attacked Toby and Frankie at Jinks Field. The attack had been swift and brutal. Nobody saw anything, no weapons were found at the scene, and due to the baseball game earlier, the ground was covered with too many footprints, the nearby parking lot rife with too many tire tracks to know which, if any, belonged to the attacker or attackers. If who the majority of the townsfolk believed to be responsible was true, then he most certainly came by foot—a suspicion that was confirmed when, a few days after the attack, the mysterious stranger was found dead in some woods about five miles out of town, a gun clenched in his hand, the back of his head a gaping hole where skull and brains used to be.

  Toby had his doubts about the drifter being the culprit (but then Toby had no idea who else it could be—the only name that was even remotely possible as a potential candidate was Dwayne and his gang, but the police had questioned them and they apparently had solid alibis; and besides, Dwayne may be a bastard and a bully, but he had never done anything as violent as what was heaped upon Toby and especially Frankie). But since nobody had confessed to the attack and he hardly remembered a thing about the night—other than an occasional hazy flash of a memory—Toby guessed the stranger was as good a contender for the attacker as anyone. Because it also came out a few days after the attack what really happened that Friday night at Jinks Field. Valerie Parsons broke down and told the cops everything—the real reason for the gathering at Jinks Field. She told them about how she saw the old bum peering through the car window, about how her boyfriend, Nate, had beaten up the old man as a result. About how once Nate called Billy Pierce and told him what had happened, to “Get your ass down here and help me teach this pervert a lesson”, word quickly spread and soon there was a whole bunch of angry, excited, drunken teenagers all bent on “teaching the old bum a lesson”. And this, according to the police and nearly everyone in town, gave the old hobo motive for the attack.

  Again, Toby wasn’t convinced, but who was he to go against popular opinion? Even Billy’s dad, who told people he had seen the drifter walking out of town a few days before the attack, started doubting his own eyes, claiming he was wrong, it probably wasn’t him he had seen leaving.

  After the attack, Toby had lain unconscious for about an hour, and then, dazed, had managed to stagger back to Pineview, but had collapsed before making it home. Fortunately, Mr. Joseph was out on one of his late-night walks, and found Toby collapsed on the sidewalk. He had taken off his shirt and used that to bandage the head wounds, and if not for his actions, Toby might very well have bled to death from his injuries. />
  His parents had gotten the fright of their life when, at a little after eleven-thirty, Mr. Joseph knocked on their door and told them Toby was down the street, badly injured.

  An ambulance was called, and the rest, as they say...

  Toby glanced at the clock.

  12:40

  He thought about what Doctor Hampton had said at the hospital: “You were very lucky that Mr. Joseph found you. You probably wouldn’t be here with us now if it wasn’t for him. I think you owe him a big thanks.”

  Yeah, well, guess what Doctor, I haven’t thanked him yet. I’m too chicken. How’s that for gratitude?

  They found Frankie at midnight. When he hadn’t turned up at home, a search by the Belford police soon discovered the beaten, bloody body of Frankie Wilmont lying in the grass by Jinks Field. Paramedics were called, but he was pronounced dead at the scene.

  Toby didn’t know how Suzie reacted to the news, but he knew how she looked when he left the hospital a few weeks later and she came to his house to visit (she hadn’t been up to a hospital visit, his mom had said). She had lost about twenty pounds, her face was pale and the bags under her eyes were big enough to take on an overseas trip. She smelled of whiskey and her hands trembled when she reached out to hug him.

  They had cried together for hours; it almost turned into a contest of who could cry the longest.

  The funeral was held on the second Tuesday following the attack, but Toby, still in hospital, hadn’t attended. There was talk of postponing the service until Toby was well enough to go, but Toby had said no, it was all right, they could go on without him and give Frankie a grand send off.

  Toby wouldn’t have wanted to go even if he was well enough. He knew people cried and stuff at funerals, but Toby feared he would go beyond mere crying; he feared he would jump onto the coffin as it was lowered into the ground, screaming, real dramatic, like he had seen in various movies over the years.

  Toby smiled up at the shadowy ceiling. Bet you would’ve got a kick out of that, huh Frankie?

  It was good that Toby was at least able to smile now. And he knew he had Gloria to thank for that.

  He couldn’t have gotten through these last few weeks without Gloria. Not that she was a replacement for Frankie—she wasn’t around every day, she didn’t shoot hoops with him, and they didn’t stay up late watching TV or playing video games—but she was just the kind of person he needed around at the moment; kind, understanding, a good listener. She had a way of making things seem not so dire; sometimes all it took to lift Toby out of a self-pitying funk was one of her gentle smiles.