Abruptly, Gloria pulled back. She took her hand away from his crotch—and not a moment too soon; Toby was close to turning his dry boxers into very sticky ones.
She stared at Toby, her breathing harsh. She offered a brief, timid smile, which Toby replied to with his wet lips and aching jaw—who knew kissing could be so strenuous?—and then, in the relative darkness of the family room, she reached behind and slipped her hands under her shirt. Toby watched with nervous anticipation as Gloria first unhooked her bra and then, in a trick to rival any of the great magicians, she somehow got her bra off and out through one sleeve, all without taking off her shirt. Then she dropped the white bra on the couch.
Toby swallowed. Under the shirt, she was now naked.
Gloria hesitated and then she reached out and gripped Toby’s hands. She raised them to the bottom of her shirt and then slipped them under. She let go and Toby continued up, hands shaking, until he reached her bare breasts.
Toby’s breath was sucked from his chest as he touched the smooth skin. And when he brushed the stiff nipples, Toby knew he had died and gone to heaven.
He explored her breasts like a blind man exploring a person’s face; softly, gently, but with all the intent to know every inch of this new and wondrous place.
Gloria reached over and unzipped Toby’s shorts.
Toby noticed Gloria’s hands were also trembling.
She pulled the zipper down and then slid a hand into his shorts.
Toby flinched when she touched his cock.
With his hands still on Gloria’s breasts, Toby closed his eyes and listened to Gloria breathing hard and deep—like Toby, it was probably a combination of nerves and excitement; of discovering things and places hitherto unknown.
She started stroking Toby gently, cautiously, bordering on clinical.
Toby felt the sensation rising and he pulled his hands out from under Gloria’s shirt and tried to pull away, but Gloria wouldn’t let him.
“It’s okay,” she breathed.
Toby, as mortified as he was consumed by pleasure, couldn’t stop the rising tide and as Gloria continued to stroke him, faster now, he erupted. He squeezed his eyes shut, balled up his fists as he pumped.
When he was done, he opened his eyes.
His breathing was deep, his head swimmy, and he couldn’t bear to look at Gloria.
She took her hand away. “Was... was that okay?”
Staring at the cushions on the couch, Toby nodded. “Great,” he said, and at that moment he wasn’t sure he was capable of saying anything else.
“I didn’t realize it’d be so... hot,” Gloria said. “And it kinda smells.”
Toby nodded, risked a glance at Gloria. She looked awkward, unsure of what to do or say. “I’ll, ah, go and get cleaned up.”
Gloria got to her feet and hurried out of the room.
The moment she was gone, Toby grabbed some tissues from the box on the coffee table, cleaned himself up, zipped, and then blew out a long, quivering breath.
I can’t believe that just happened!
Toby remembered how Gloria felt under her shirt. How soft and smooth her skin was.
He shook his head, a goofy grin cutting across his flushed face.
Come on Warrick—now ask me how far I’ve gotten with a girl...
A wave of despondency came over him. Not just at the memory of the night up in the tree house, when Frankie was still alive, but at the thought of Warrick missing.
Jesus, what if something serious has happened to him?
Soon Gloria came back. She snatched her bra from off the couch and said, “I’ll be back in a sec.” She left the room again and when she returned this time, Toby gazed up at her, wondering what the protocol was. Were they supposed to talk about what amounted to Toby’s—and, he was pretty sure, Gloria’s—first real sexual experience? Did she want to discuss mushy stuff like how it felt emotionally as well as physically? Or were they to not mention it at all?
When Gloria didn’t speak, Toby took it upon himself to break the awkwardness. “Are we still okay? You don’t feel weird or anything?”
Gloria, head down, shrugged. “Do you?”
“No,” Toby said. “It was great.”
Gloria looked up and smiled. “Yeah, but kinda weird.”
“I guess.” Weirder for her, Toby knew.
Gloria sat down next to Toby. “Let’s not let this spoil anything. I mean, it was fun, right?” She leaned over and pecked him on the lips.
Toby smiled as relief swept through him.
It was more than fun, Toby thought, but decided to keep that thought to himself.
They watched TV for the rest of the afternoon. Gloria left just after four, so Toby decided to go around and see Mr. Joseph, before his mom came home from work.
“Monsieur Fairchild,” Mr. Joseph said, standing inside the doorway. “What brings you back so soon? Is everything okay?”
“No, not really.”
Mr. Joseph frowned. “Do you want to come inside?”
“I guess. But I can’t stay long.”
Mr. Joseph stepped aside. Toby entered the exhaustively hot house.
“Come into the kitchen,” Mr. Joseph said.
Toby followed the old man to the back of the house.
The kitchen was mercifully cooler, with the blinds drawn and the linoleum on the floor. Toby took a seat at the table
“Water?”
“No thanks.”
Mr. Joseph sat down. “So, what seems to be the problem?”
Toby sighed. “People know about me coming here.”
For a while, the only sound was the buzzing of cicadas. “People like your parents?”
“No. At least, I don’t think they know yet. But the kids in town have been talking about it. I was over at Patterson’s earlier, and they were all laughing about it.”
“I see,” Mr. Joseph said.
“I’ve already had one prank call. It’ll get worse before it gets better. I know the kids in this town. They won’t let it rest. You’ll cop it, too.”
Mr. Joseph smiled ever so slightly. “Don’t worry about me; I’m used to it. The important thing is, how do you feel about it?”
“Annoyed. Angry.”
“About?”
“How immature and cruel people can be.”
“But also that they found out at all, right?”
Toby knew there was no point in lying to Mr. Joseph. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“It’s okay, I understand. I would’ve been worried if you weren’t a little embarrassed that people know you’ve been spending time here. I was worried people would find out; hoped they wouldn’t, but I guess that’s the price of living in a small town.”
“But mostly I’m angry at how the kids looked at me, like I’ve done something wrong.”
Mr. Joseph nodded. “So, what do you want to do Monsieur Fairchild? It’s your call. Me, I’m more than happy to have you keep coming around. But I’m used to people looking at me strangely, laughing behind my back.”
“Screw ‘em,” Toby said. “Let them point and laugh. I don’t care.”
“Good for you.”
Toby smiled, though it wasn’t filled with joy. He was proud of himself for making a stand against the pettiness of the townsfolk, but truth was, he did care. And he was scared. Sitting in front of Mr. Joseph and saying he didn’t care if people laughed was one thing; not letting it affect him out there, in the real world, was another. Like he told Mr. Joseph, things were bound to get worse before they got better—if they ever got better. Was he strong enough to withstand all that teasing and finger-pointing? He wasn’t the most popular kid to begin with; being associated with the likes of Mr. Joseph would only make him more of an outcast.
At least I’ve still got Gloria. But for how long?
“Well, I’d better get back home. I just thought you should know.”
“I appreciate it.”
Toby stood and made his way to the front door, Mr. Joseph shuffling b
ehind.
As Toby stepped outside, the old man said, “If you want to call this quits and go back to being strangers, I’ll understand. No hard feelings.”
Though Toby was tempted to take the easy way out and answer, “Okay, sounds like a plan. Have a nice life,” he shook his head. “Thanks, but no, I won’t let them win.”
Mr. Joseph nodded.
The door closed behind him, and before leaving Mr. Joseph’s house, Toby instinctively looked both ways down the street.
When he realized what he had done—and more importantly, why—he felt angry and disappointed with himself.
He crossed the street and headed home.
“Toby, can I have a word with you?”
Toby, who was watching television, his mind drifting between Mr. Joseph, and what had taken place with Gloria on the very couch he was slumped in, turned from the TV to his mom. When he saw the look on her face, he knew straightaway she had heard about him and Mr. Joseph. “Hey Mom, have a good day at work?”
His mom stepped into the room and sat in one of the chairs near the couch. “I heard some talk today. I want to hear it from you if it’s true.”
Toby turned back to the TV. “If what’s true?”
“Toby, can you please turn down the TV and look at me.”
Toby sighed. Reluctantly, he picked up the remote, pressed the ‘mute’ button, then he sat up and faced his mother.
“Thank you,” she said. “Now, you’re not in trouble or anything, but I heard some kids talking in the library today. They said that you have been going over and spending time with Mr. Joseph. Is this true?”
Though his mom was trying her hardest to speak in a kind, even tone, Toby could read her face—and it was tense. “Yeah, it’s true.”
“I see.” Her kind expression faltered. “I didn’t realize you were spending your days over there. Why didn’t you say anything to either your dad or me?”
“I haven’t been spending all my time over there. Just a few hours here and there. Why, is there a problem?”
“No,” she answered too quickly. “No, it’s just... well, what do you do there?”
Toby was tempted to answer with something snide, even crude, but he wasn’t that sort of person. “We talk, what else? He’s been telling me about his past, back in Haiti.”
“I see,” his mom said again—her code word for ‘I don’t really like what I’m hearing, but I’ll pretend to be civil’. “I won’t repeat what the kids at the library were saying, but Toby, I don’t think people are going to take too kindly to you going over to Mr. Joseph’s place.”
Toby frowned. “What are you saying?”
His mom stared at her hands, wringing them like she was trying to rid them of dirt. “I’m just saying be careful. A lot of kids are scared of Mr. Joseph. Now I’m not condoning their behavior, but that’s just how it is. I just don’t want to see you get hurt, that’s all. So maybe, for the moment, it’s best if you refrain from seeing Mr. Joseph.”
Toby didn’t know what to say. He turned and glared at the TV.
“And your father agrees.”
Toby turned back to his mom. “You’ve already spoken to Dad about this? What, did you call him at work?”
His mom nodded.
“I don’t believe this,” Toby muttered.
“Sorry Toby. But you do understand?”
“No,” he said. “I don’t. But you can’t stop me.”
His mom looked shocked. With a slightly fearful frown she said, “Excuse me?”
“What are you going to do, chain me up in my bedroom? You can’t stop me from going over to Mr. Joseph’s. I’m not a kid!”
“Toby...”
Toby hopped up from the couch, fire running through his veins. He stormed out of the family room and stomped up the stairs.
In his room, he lay on his bed staring at the ceiling, feeling neither his usual embarrassment nor confusion towards his parents, but anger and, for the first time in his life, disappointment.
Half an hour later, there was a gentle rapping at his door. “Toby?”
Toby ignored his mother; he didn’t feel like talking to her. But she entered his room anyway.
“Toby? Please, don’t be angry.”
Toby didn’t answer—he feared if he spoke, he’d say something he’d regret.
“Well anyway, I didn’t come up here to fight, or to talk about Mr. Joseph. I heard the message from Mrs. Coleman.”
Despite Gloria’s insistence, Toby had deleted the prank call, but left the one from Warrick’s mother. He figured his mom would want to listen to it.
“Toby, have you seen or heard from Warrick?”
Toby didn’t answer her straightaway, but then the thought of Warrick missing made the Mr. Joseph situation seem trivial by comparison, so he sat up and muttered, “Not since Friday afternoon, on my way to Gloria’s house.”
“Well, apparently he hasn’t been seen since Friday evening,” his mom said. “Sally is beside herself. I’m sure he’s fine but... Toby, I think I should take you down to the police station. They might want to talk to you.”
“What about? I don’t know anything. He’s probably just lying drunk somewhere with Dwayne. Or run away from home. You know what Warrick’s like.” And his parents, Toby wanted to add. Because if the rumors were true, Warrick’s parents, particularly his old man, weren’t exactly saints. Those bruises that appeared every so often on Warrick’s face and arms didn’t get there by themselves and really, how many doorknobs could one person run into?
“Still, you saw him on the day he disappeared. Come on, get ready. I’ll call your father and let him know we’re going over to the police station.” As she turned and walked out of the room, Toby heard her mutter, “First you get attacked and now a boy is missing. What’s happening to this town?”
Toby wondered the same thing—though not for the same reasons as his mom.
When Mrs. Mayfour picked up the phone after three rings, Toby said, in his politest voice, “Hi Mrs. Mayfour. It’s Toby. Would I be able to speak to Gloria?”
There was a moment’s silence. Toby started getting antsy, thinking she must have heard about him and Mr. Joseph. But when she said, “Hold on, Toby, I’ll get her,” he sighed with relief.
It was just after eight, and Toby and his parents had only just finished eating dinner—which for them was late. The police station had taken longer than expected. Toby had told Chief Willard of his encounter with Warrick (the Chief said that Toby was probably one of the last to see Warrick, which unnerved Toby) and of his suspicion that Warrick seemed anxious and scared, like he was worried someone would see him talking to Toby.
Apparently there was still no word from Warrick, so the police were officially treating him as a missing person, even though Chief Willard said, with a forced smile, that he was sure it was a simple case of Warrick having run away—most of these cases were.
Chief Daniel Willard’s parting words were: “Don’t worry, I’m sure Warrick will turn up”.
Toby could always tell when adults were lying.
“Toby? Hey.”
Gloria didn’t sound like her usual cheerful self.
“Hey. I’ve just come back from the police station.”
“The police? Is anything wrong?”
“No, my mom thought I’d better go down and tell them of my little chat with Warrick. Just like you said.”
“Oh. So what did they say? Still no word?”
“No. Warrick’s officially a missing person, but they reckon he’s probably just run away from home.”
“Did you also tell them about that awful message that was left on your machine?”
There was a definite sadness in Gloria’s voice. “No. I didn’t see the point. Anyway, get this, my mom had a chat with me earlier, said she thinks it best if I don’t go around to see Mr. Joseph. Can you believe that? Bitch. Telling me what I can and can’t do.”
Dead air filled Toby’s ear and he thought for a second they had been
cut off. “Gloria? You still there?”
“I’m here,” Gloria said with a sigh. “Toby, my parents sort of said the same thing. Only about you.”
Toby felt like he had been kicked in the balls. “What?”
“They said they thought I had been spending too much time with you, and not enough with my other friends—my girlfriends. They said they like you and all, but that I’m not to see you as much as I have been.”
Toby closed his eyes; he felt like screaming.
“It’s all bull. I think the real reason is they don’t want me associating with anyone who is friends with Mr. Joseph, but they’re using the ‘seeing too much of you’ thing as a cover, so they’re not seen as racist.”
“But they can’t stop us from seeing each other. We’re friends. It’s not fair. How come all of a sudden everyone thinks they can control our lives, decide who we can and can’t see? It’s bullshit!”
“I know,” Gloria said. “But they threatened to ground me if I disobeyed them.” She paused before adding, “For the whole summer, Toby.”
“What?”
“I can see you once a week—during the day—and that’s it. Anymore and they’ll ground me.”
“This is...” Toby didn’t have the words to describe how he was feeling. Chest tight, mouth dry, he could only say, “Not fair. I can’t see you, I can’t see Mr. Joseph. Frankie’s dead and...” Tears started dripping from his eyes.
“Toby,” Gloria said, voice wavering. “I’m sorry.”
“Me too,” he said and then hung up.
“I’m sorry, kid,” a voice from behind said.
Toby turned and faced his dad, who was standing just inside the kitchen doorway. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I heard some of your conversation. I’m really sorry, Toby.”
“Sorry?” Toby said, chin trembling. He wiped his eyes. “Bullshit, you’re sorry.”
“Hey,” his dad said, voice not quite stern, but getting there. “There’s no need...”
“You and Mom tell me I can’t go over and see Mr. Joseph. The man who saved my life. And now I find out that I can only see Gloria once a week. Sorry doesn’t cut it, Dad. I haven’t done anything wrong. Gloria hasn’t done anything wrong. Mr. Joseph hasn’t done anything wrong. Yet we’re all being punished. Does that sound fair?”
The Awakening Page 34