“What do you know, Fairchild?” Rusty growled. “Huh? What the hell do you think you’re playing at?”
Toby shook his head. “Nothing.”
“You talked to him the other day. Apparently you were one of the last. What did he say to you?”
Rusty grabbed a clump of Toby’s hair and jerked his head up. “I’m talking to you. What did he say?”
“Nothing,” Toby repeated. “Just that he was sorry.”
“About what?”
“About what happened to Frankie. And that he hadn’t come and seen me since I got out of the hospital.”
“That all?”
Toby nodded.
“Warrick’s our friend, and we’re worried about him, that’s all,” Rusty said, still gripping Toby’s hair.
I seriously doubt that, Toby thought.
“We wanna find out what happened to him, ya know?”
Toby shrugged.
“So why d’ya make that remark about Warrick and nigger cock?”
“It’s just something Warrick said once. About what a...”
A voice interrupted Toby. “Hey, let the boy go.”
All heads turned to Mr. Joseph across the street, standing by the entrance of Barb’s.
“This ain’t none of your concern, freak,” Rusty said.
“I’ll make it my business if you two don’t leave him alone.”
Rusty and Scotty exchanged a look—Toby noticed, with a small amount of satisfaction, that it was a look of uncertainty, even fear.
Toby saw Rusty nod and Toby was let go.
Glaring at Toby, Rusty said, “Well, you be careful now. Associating with the likes of that nigger, you might get your head bitten off.”
“Or some people might think you’re as queer as he is,” Scotty said, quietly.
“See you ‘round, Fairchild.” Rusty gave Toby a final hard stare and then the two thugs moved away, glancing once at Mr. Joseph still standing by the door, leaving Toby shaking, his stomach sore.
“Assholes,” Toby muttered and then he bent down and picked up the bag. Mr. Joseph was still standing by the door. Toby gave him a small nod of thanks. Mr. Joseph waved, then he headed back inside Barb’s. Toby continued walking.
When he arrived home, a uniformed cop was standing outside with Toby’s mom. They were on the front lawn, looking at the graffiti.
Toby walked over to them.
“Toby. This is Officer Reilly.”
The policeman, a young, fresh-faced guy, nodded. “Hey there.” He was holding a notepad and pencil. “So Toby, did you see or hear anything last night?”
Toby shook his head.
“Any ideas about who may have done this? Anyone with a grudge against you, or Mr. Joseph?”
Sure, they just socked me in the gut ten minutes ago.
“Just about every kid in town has it in for Mr. Joseph,” he told the policeman. “And I’m not the most popular person right now, so that narrows it down to oh... only about a thousand people.”
“Toby, don’t be smart,” his mom said.
“It’s all right Mrs. Fairchild. I know what Toby’s saying.” He winked at Toby and then flicked the notepad closed, pocketed the pencil. “Well, that about does it. If either of you remember anything, don’t hesitate to call us. Now, did you say that Mr. Joseph had some graffiti, too?”
“Yes,” Toby’s mom said.
“Hmmm, well I should go over and talk to...”
“No, don’t bother,” Toby interrupted. “He didn’t see or hear anything, either. I spoke with him earlier. Besides, he’s not at home, he’s working. But I’ll tell him to give you guys a call if he does remember something.”
Officer Reilly mulled this over for a momentous few seconds. “Okay. But you tell him to call us if he remembers anything—anything at all.”
“I will,” Toby said.
The policeman nodded. “Well, have a good day, the both of you.”
He started towards his patrol car.
“Oh, Officer?”
He stopped, turned around. “Yes, Ma’am?”
“Can we wash off the graffiti?”
“Sure. Don’t want that filth spoiling the neighborhood. Good day.”
After the policeman was gone, Toby’s mom said, “Nice man,” then she said to Toby, “Well, there’s no point in going to work now. Besides, I think with everything that’s happened, it would be best if someone stayed home and looked after you.”
“I don’t need a babysitter,” Toby said, grinding his teeth together.
“I know you don’t. But today, you’ve got one. Now you get started on the graffiti while I go and call work. Make sure you scrub all the paint off and wear some gloves.” As she turned to head back inside, she muttered, “Maybe we should think about repainting the house.”
Toby groaned, thought, I bet I know who’ll get stuck with that job.
He started towards the shed to get some gloves and rags.
An hour later, finished scrubbing the graffiti off the wall, Toby pulled off the gloves and tossed them to the ground.
“Talk about slave labor,” he muttered and as he rubbed his aching shoulders, thought about the filth sprayed across the front of Mr. Joseph’s house.
Toby felt bad that the old man would have to struggle to clean the paint. So, with a fresh bag of rags and the half-empty bottle of turpentine, he headed over to Mr. Joseph’s.
Back home and having taken a cool shower, Toby was lying on his bed, relaxing his aching muscles, when the doorbell rang.
He didn’t feel like moving, but he figured his mom was probably busy doing housecleaning, or whatever it was she did when she took the day off, so he sat up and eased his stiff body off the bed. He opened his door, stepped out into the hallway, but stopped when he heard his mom’s voice downstairs.
“Oh, hello, Mr. Joseph.”
Toby’s mouth went dry.
What’s he doing here?
Toby stopped short of the stairs, staying out of sight behind the wall, listening.
“Hello Mrs. Fairchild. I was wondering if I could have a quick word with Toby.”
“Sorry, he’s resting,” Toby’s mom answered quickly. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
“Oh, ah, yes. Would you please tell him thanks? I appreciate what he did.”
Toby’s mom laughed; a small, polite laugh that Toby knew masked her true unease. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure what you mean. Thank him for what?”
“For cleaning the graffiti off my house.”
A pause. “He did?”
“Um, yes, Ma’am. I take it he didn’t tell you?”
“Well, er, no, he didn’t.”
“When I arrived back from work, I noticed the wall was clean. Maybe I’m wrong, maybe it wasn’t Toby who cleaned it. If he didn’t, then I apologize for bothering you.”
“No bother,” Toby’s mom said. “But since you’re here, Mr. Joseph, I was wondering if we could have a word?”
Toby’s gut tightened. He wanted to intervene, wanted to put a stop to this encounter between his mother and Mr. Joseph. But he remained where he was.
“Of course,” Mr. Joseph said.
Toby waited for his mom to invite Mr. Joseph in, but the invitation didn’t come.
“Mr. Joseph—Toby’s a very sensitive boy. He’s been through a lot this past month. Toby’s dad and I, we’re both... extremely grateful for what you did, we really are, but maybe it’s for the best if you... well, you know... Toby doesn’t need any more stress right now. I’m afraid that by allowing him into your home, it’s done more harm than good.”
There was a long silence.
Toby’s jaw hurt from so much grinding.
How dare she...
“What does Toby have to say about it?”
“Well, you know how boys are, stubborn as mules. He says he’ll do what he wants, but he doesn’t know what he wants. No boy at his age does. His father and I know what’s best for him, and that, I’m sorry to say, is tha
t he no longer associates with you for the moment. Nothing personal, you understand.”
“It seems to me that you’ve got a pretty smart kid there. A good head on his shoulders. Pardon me for saying so, Mrs. Fairchild, but I don’t think you or your husband give Toby enough credit. He’s strong, probably stronger than you realize. Don’t you think it’s up to him to decide what he wants? After all, he’s the one who has to deal with all the grief that comes with associating with me. I think that gives him the right to decide, don’t you?”
Toby almost screamed with delight—he loved his mom, but to hear someone put her in her place like that, well, he’d be lying if he said it didn’t give him any satisfaction.
“You’re entitled to your opinion Mr. Joseph,” his mom said, after a moment’s silence, “but I must say I have to disagree. And I’m sure my husband would, too. We know our son, and at the moment, it’s not good for him to be under this kind of stress. So please, I’m asking you nicely, could you refrain from seeing my son? If he comes over, just politely tell him that you think it’s best if he goes away.”
“Did you know I used to be married?”
Toby’s mom cleared her throat. “Um, no, I didn’t know that.”
“Yes, back in Haiti. I was married for almost forty years. Mangela, that was my wife, her parents didn’t want her to marry me, they thought I was too old, too common, not educated—which was funny, since they were peasant farmers themselves. But anyway, if Mangela had listened to her parents, we would never have married, I would never have had all those years with her, and we would never have had Felicia or Rachel.”
“Are they your daughters?”
“Felicia was, Rachel was our granddaughter. I’ve always believed that kids should listen and respect their elders, but sometimes, it’s best not to.”
“What are you saying Mr. Joseph? That Toby should wantonly disobey his father and me?”
“All I’m saying is that sometimes it pays to listen to the child for a change. Sometimes, those things which cause us the most pain are the most rewarding. Well anyway, I’ve said enough. Again, please tell Toby thanks. Bonswa, Mrs. Fairchild.”
If Toby’s mom said goodbye to Mr. Joseph, Toby didn’t hear it. The door closed and he heard his mom sigh.
Toby crept back to his bedroom, closed the door and lay on his bed.
A short time later, his mom knocked on the door. “Yeah?”
She opened the door and smiled in at him.
“Who was that at the door?” he asked.
“It was Mr. Joseph.”
Toby sat up, feigning surprise. “What did he want?”
“To thank you for cleaning the graffiti off his house.”
“Oh.”
His mom smiled, briefly. “That was a kind gesture. He appreciated it.”
Toby nodded. “Well, I didn’t have much else to do today. Is that all he wanted?”
Her smile faltered. “We also had a chat about the current situation, and we both agreed it was best if you stopped going over to his house—at least until this whole thing blows over.”
Toby swallowed. “He agreed?”
“Yes. Sorry, but it’s for your own good. So you won’t go over there anymore, not unless your dad and I say so?”
So much for listening to the child. “Well, if Mr. Joseph said it’s for the best, then I have no choice.”
Her smile broadened; it was a smile full of relief. “Good, I’m glad. Okay, that makes me feel a whole lot better. I’m sure this mess will be over with soon, the people in town will forget about it, and then things can go back to normal.”
“Sure, normal.”
His mom left.
So you won’t go over there anymore, not unless your dad and I say so?
Sure, he wouldn’t go over there—at least, not for the rest of the day. But tomorrow, when his mom was back at work...
Toby grinned.
After all, I didn’t promise I would stay away from Mr. Joseph’s.
That evening, while Toby was in the family room watching TV and his dad was out in the shed, tinkering with some old, broken appliance (he was spending more and more time in the shed, or out playing poker), the phone rang. His mom was in the kitchen, reading, cradling a glass of wine, so after three rings, she answered the phone. Toby lowered the volume of the TV and heard his mom say, “Hi Suzie. Not much, just catching up on some reading.” After that, her voice lowered, which meant she was talking about something she didn’t want Toby to hear. But that made him all the more curious, so keeping the TV on low, he crept up to the kitchen and, like earlier, stayed out of sight while he listened to his mom talk.
“...know, it’s horrible. Toby spent half the day cleaning it off, including Mr. Joseph’s...
“Yes, that’s right, his too...
“Of course I’m worried. I know what kids can be like, I heard them laughing about it at work yesterday...
“Hmmm? Oh, I don’t want to repeat what they were saying, Suzie. All I’ll say is that it had to do with chickens and, um, sex...
“Don’t laugh. Poor Toby, he doesn’t have many friends, he hardly sees anyone. He doesn’t talk to me, and David’s, well, I’m worried about David, too...
“Well, maybe another time. Not on the phone. Anyway, guess who came over today? Mr. Joseph...
“Yep, that’s right...
“Well, to thank Toby for cleaning the graffiti off his house. But, get this, he also had the nerve to tell me how to raise Toby...
“I swear, he did. He stood there and told me that I don’t know what’s best for my boy, that it’s perfectly fine to let a fourteen-year-old spend time at an old man’s house...
“Yeah, but that’s not all, Suzie. He told me about his wife and child, back in Jamaica, or Haiti, or someplace. Like I really care... and... huh?... yes, I’ve had a few drinks tonight, so what, that’s not allowed...?
“Right, I know, I know. Anyway, he essentially said that kids shouldn’t listen to their parents, that it should be us listening to them, and doing whatever they wanted...
“Yes, I’m telling the truth. Honest...
“What? Well, I told Toby that he was not to go around there anymore, that Mr. Joseph agreed it was for the best...
“No, I know, but he doesn’t need to know that. Toby’s soft, he’s too sensitive, if he keeps on going around there, the kids in this town will tear him apart, cause him to have a nervous breakdown or something...
“No, I’m not being overly dramatic. That’s how I see it. It’s already started, and I’ll bet there’s been more things happening than just the graffiti that Toby’s not telling me...
“Oh, I don’t know, I’m sure kids are teasing him, maybe even prank-calling him. They like to do that...
“Yes, I know. But it really pisses me off. Kids acting like this. If it wasn’t for a bunch of hooligans teasing that old hobo...
“Yes, I’m sorry Suzie...
“But do you know what was really strange? Mr. Joseph himself...”
A small, whispery chuckle.
“Yes, even more strange. Well, I realized I’ve never actually looked at him before, you know? Never really taken a good hard look at him...
“I know, that’s what I’m saying. And there was something really unusual about him...
“Huh? Oh, I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something... not right...
“No, I don’t just mean those things. I mean... oh, I don’t know... he gave me the creeps, to tell you the truth... I’m glad I told Toby not to go around there... if David felt what I felt standing there, talking to the man...
“Yes, exactly. I mean, I feel bad talking this way, after what he did for Toby...
“Yes, I know, I know. So how are you doing, Suzie?”
His mom’s voice returned to normal volume again. Toby remained standing just inside the family room entryway, heart thumping, thinking about what his mom had said.
She sensed something was different about Mr. Joseph. What if she
...?
No, Toby thought. Mr. Joseph’s secret hasn’t been discovered for over ninety years.
Still...
“...want to speak to him? Well, I’ll go and ask him. Hang on.”
Toby scurried back to the couch, had just sat down when his mom appeared. Walking over to him, she smiled. “It’s Suzie on the phone. She wants to have a word with you.”
“What about?”
“I don’t know. Probably just wants to see how you’re doing.”
“Take a message,” Toby said.
His mom sighed. “This is ridiculous. I don’t know what happened between you two, but whatever it was, sort it out. I’m sure it wasn’t anything to ruin your friendship over. Besides...”
“I haven’t got any other friends?” Toby gazed up at his mom.
“No,” she answered. “Well, maybe. You need to talk with someone about everything that’s going on. And you and Suzie used to be so close.”
“Yeah, used to be,” Toby said.
“So you won’t talk to her?”
“Not tonight,” Toby said.
With a shake of her head, his mom turned and strode back into the kitchen.
Toby didn’t bother eavesdropping on the rest of the conversation.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
At around ten the next morning—his mom safely at work—Toby headed over to Mr. Joseph’s. He didn’t see anyone out in the street as he crossed Pineview, though he did wonder if there were any neighbors watching from inside their houses, hidden behind curtains, fingers itching to use their telephones.
When he arrived at Mr. Joseph’s, he walked up the porch steps and at the front door, knocked. He waited. When there was no answer, he knocked again. Nothing.
He headed around to the back. As he neared the back door, he heard soft singing coming from inside the shed.
Toby stepped up to the shed and listened. He heard Mr. Joseph singing in some strange language—Creole? Toby wondered. Toby stayed by the shed, listening to the sound of Mr. Joseph’s voice, entranced by the lilting melody.
When it became apparent that Mr. Joseph wasn’t coming out anytime soon, Toby headed back home.
After lunch Toby was relaxing in front of the TV when the doorbell rang.
The Awakening Page 36