Saving Toby (10 page)

Keeping her distance, Claudia followed me to the bathroom
and watched as I faced the mirror and applied the bandage. When I finished, I
rested my hands on the basin. The cut wasn’t too bad, but the area was swollen.
I’d have to come up with something to tell Julia.

What a night. I closed my eyes and took a slow breath.

“God, I really want a cigarette,” I grumbled aloud. Turning
to face her, I raised my eyebrows hopefully. “Since I gave up smoking for you,
I think you should kiss me and help me forget about wanting one.”

She covered her mouth with her knuckles and shook her head,
but not before I saw her hide a coy smile. I didn’t expect her to agree, but the
flirty refusal only stoked the fire.

I made a grab for her, but she quickly stepped back away
from me. Reaching into her back pocket, she pulled out a pack of gum.

“I’ve heard chewing gum helps with cravings.”

Chewing hard and fast on two pieces of gum, I went up to
check on Julia while Claudia called to check in with her father. Julia was
sleeping. I ducked into my bedroom to put on a clean shirt and some cologne and
then brushed my teeth.

Staring at my reflection, I gave myself a pep talk. Tonight
was the night. Before Claudia left, she would agree to go out with me. I wasn’t
taking no for an answer.

In the kitchen again, I filled a baggie with ice and pressed
it to my forehead. Dario and April returned a few minutes later with the food
and drinks. We served up the pizza in the kitchen and then moved to the living
room.

The night slipped by easy. Dario and April were long-time
friends of both Claudia and me. The girls were relaxed and laughed at all my
jokes. Like a good wingman, Dario mentioned my guitar, doing his best to
impress Claudia with my abilities.

“Bet you didn’t know this guy was one of the main
attractions at high school band nights,” Dario said, selling me like an
up-and-coming talent to an agent.

“The same guy who doesn’t like to dance in public performed
at band night?” Claudia eyed me doubtfully.

I nodded.

“Interesting. What other talents do you have?”

I smiled slowly. “I’ll show you later.”

She rolled her eyes, and everyone laughed.

I flipped on the television to catch the Yankees’ score. This
time everyone groaned. Down by three runs in the sixth against Boston.

“Ah, they can’t let the Sox take it. I bet a guy at work on
this game.” All the while casually sliding my arm behind Claudia’s shoulders
and rubbing my leg against hers. She inhaled sharply, and both of the girls
grew quiet. When I glanced over at them, Claudia looked away, but April smiled
knowingly at me.

Claudia slid away, out from under my arm, closer to the end
of the couch.

I laughed at her retreat. “The heat getting to you?”

“What heat?”

Dario and April just watched as I slid close again, cornering
her against the end of the couch.

“Stop.” She batted my hand away, but she was also laughing.

I ignored her attempt to stop me and pulled her close.
Grinning triumphantly, I held her snug against my side. “Is your skin burning
off yet?”

“That would be no,” she said, scoffing.

“Relax. Even with all this undeniable heat between us,
touching me doesn’t hurt. It’s all good.”

She flushed. “Yeah, well, sorry to tell you, but I don’t
feel
the heat
.” She pushed me away. “And I absolutely do not plan on
touching you.”

“What if I plan on touching you?”

“That’s called sexual harassment, and it’s against the law.”

The air was still. Even as her eyes warned me, I was too
keyed up with her this close.

“We should get going, Dar.” April stood up trying hard not
to smile, but Dario laughed out loud.

“Yeah, me too.” Claudia jumped to her feet, clearly getting
ready to bolt.

April gave Claudia a hug, then leaned over her shoulder, and
blew me a kiss. “Goodnight, sweet frog!” Giggling, she took Dario’s hand and
slipped out the door.

“Sweet frog?” I asked, watching them leave. “What’s that
mean?”

“I don’t know. Anyway, good night.” She rushed the screen
door, racing to catch up to April.

Nice try
. I followed her outside.

Claudia stood next to April by the door of her car. I pinned
her with my eyes. “Come over tomorrow night. We’ll watch a movie or
something
.”

“I don’t think so.” Her eyes lowered to the collar of my
shirt.

“It’s the bandage, isn’t it? I look like hell.”

She let out a tiny laugh. “You do look a bit like a roughed
up gang member.”

I jutted my chin out and leaned close. “But my lips are in
perfect working order. Not a scratch.”

Claudia’s mouth twitched, and she glanced at April for a way
out. Like a little girl, she snatched at one of April’s hands in a schoolyard attempt
to keep me away, but I moved in anyway. She put up her other hand trying to
stop me, but I grabbed it and held it away. Overpowering her, I aligned myself
with her and pressed her against the car with my whole body.

“Come on, April,” Dario called from across the lawn. “Let’s
make tracks.”

“I’m trying, Dar, but the girl’s got a death grip on my
hand. And woo wee,” April began to fan herself, “it sure is getting hot over
here!”

I smiled at April’s comment but didn’t take my eyes from
Claudia. I held her there, against the car, letting the heat build between us.
Both of our breaths came in shallow gasps.
It was hot.
Spontaneous
combustion came to mind.

“Get off me,” she commanded, but there was no force behind
the words.

“Stop playing hard to get and just admit that you like me.”
I dipped my head closer. “Come over tomorrow night. You won’t be sorry.”

When she shook her head no, I reached up to hold her chin
with my free hand. She eyed me nervously just before I ran my tongue over her
lips, deftly licking the entire length of her mouth.
Sweet
. Her eyes
went large with surprise and letting go of April’s hand, she pressed her
knuckles to her mouth.

“Tomorrow,” I repeated before releasing her and walking back
towards the house.

“Wow,” I heard April laugh behind me. “That’s one
rana c
aliente
!”

“A what?” Claudia asked.

“That’s one
hot
frog.”

14. Claudia

I went to bed, but still rattled from Toby’s intense
advances, sleep came in fits. Normally, when a guy came on too strong, I was
quick to make it clear nothing would happen. But nothing seemed to dissuade
Toby. Most upsetting was that, despite my resolve to remain uninterested,
whenever he came near, I couldn’t do it. I found myself
anticipating
his
closeness, almost craving it.

This was completely uncharted territory for me.

The sleepless night took its toll, and I struggled to get
through my shift at Sterling the following day. At the end of it, I dragged
myself through the door, just happy to get home.

The relief was short-lived.

My father stood in full uniform in the kitchen, as though
I’d caught him on his way to work. His face was grim.

“Dad? What’s wrong?”

“Care to explain all this?” His hand fanned across some
paperwork on the counter.

There, laid out across the counter like drug paraphernalia in
a court case, was evidence of my secret pursuit—my stack of college brochures
and application receipt letter. I felt the color drain out of my face and then
return as a burning flush.

“You went through my room!”

His reply was stern, “I’m your father. I have a right to
know what you’re up to.”

I was flabbergasted. “But you
violated
my privacy!”

“Too bad!” Dad smacked the counter with his open palm. I
flinched. “I shouldn’t have to go through your things to find what you’re up
to.
This
,” Dad poked at the college paperwork, “is inexcusable.”

“Calm down,” I snapped. “This is exactly the reason I didn’t
tell you.”

With a scowl, he put his hands on his hips. “Oh, you have no
idea how much you sound like your mother.”

“And what’s so bad about that?”

“Your mother wanted things we never agreed to. And when she
didn’t get them, she left.” Angling his chin down, he eyed me. I imagined the
fear he put in the people he interrogated. “Is that what you’re doing?”

“Dad, I just want to go away to school. It’s only two years.
Not forever!”

There was silence as he seemed to consider this. I was almost
hopeful, until he asked, “Are there other things you’re hiding from me?”

“Yeah. I’m pregnant.” I punctuated the wild declaration with
a glib snort.

Dad’s jaw tightened. “I don’t find that amusing.”

Circumspect, I pulled back. “There’s nothing else.”

“Claudia, I’m disappointed in you. You’ve damaged my trust,
and I don’t take that lightly.” His tone was quiet and controlled, effectively
paralyzing me with guilt. “You listen and understand this: I won’t finance USC
or
any
college that I do not approve of.”

I felt my bottom lip begin to quake. “But what if I get
accepted?”

“No point in debating that.” He reached into the pile and
pulled out a flat, white envelope imprinted with the USC logo—one that had
already been opened. “You’ll be staying home.”

My heart dropped into my stomach. Snatching the envelope
from him, I turned and ran out the front door.

I could hear him calling after me, but I got in my car,
revved the engine, and threw it into reverse. Someone honked, but, ignoring
them, I sped down the road. I needed to get away. From the house, from him.
Immediately. I smacked the envelope down in the car seat next to me and watched
it out of the corner of my eye as though it was an unpredictable passenger who
might grab the steering wheel and drive me off the road.

Around the corner and down the block, I raced to the bay.
Careening into a parking spot in the empty lot at our little town beach, I
turned off the engine and stared at the envelope. It was addressed to me! It
was mine! He had no right to open it! Seizing it, I yanked out the letter,
ripping it in the process.

Thank you for your interest… blah, blah, blah… The Davis
School of Gerontology … unprecedented amount of applicants for this specialized
program … currently, enrollment has reached its limitation … regretfully your
application will be placed on our pending list…

Wait-listed! I crumbled the letter into a ball and chucked
it against the door. Folding my arms over the steering wheel, I pressed my face
down onto them and let the tears come. My dreams were trashed, ripped out from
under me. I had nothing now. Nothing! I was doomed to stay in Sayville, living
under my father’s thumb, attending the school of
his
choosing and doing
his
bidding. I would never have a life of my own.

It was close to an hour before I finally stopped crying, too
tired to continue. I watched the sunset, feeling anesthetized. Somewhere deep
inside, I knew I should be sensible and start thinking of a Plan B, an
alternate goal, but I couldn’t. Not yet. I was too numb.

I picked up my phone to call April, but then I remembered
she had a family party tonight. I knew she would tell me to come. I usually
enjoyed her large, boisterous family gatherings, but tonight I couldn’t see
myself enduring it. I scrolled through my contacts and saw Toby’s number.

For a moment, I felt a flood of warmth as I thought about
his mouth on mine, his arms holding me. I leaned back and sighed wearily.

“Hey, Claude,” the deep, familiar voice came from my lap.

I jerked and stared down at the call screen.
Oh, jeez
.
I must have accidentally hit the call button.

Tentatively, I put the phone to my ear.

“Hi,” I said and attempted a laugh. “I butt dialed you.”

“Oh, good, I thought you were calling to cancel on me.”

“Cancel? We don’t have plans.”

“Yes, we do. You’re coming over here to watch a movie with
me,” he stated.

“Oh, that.”

“Come on, Claude. Don’t make me beg,” he begged. “I even got
a copy of
Mrs. Doubtfire
.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t.” I meant to say it without any emotion,
but my misery churned inside me like molten lava and a tiny sob leaked out.

“Claude, are you okay?” When I didn’t answer, he became more
direct, “Where are you?”

“Beach,” I mumbled.

“I’m coming down there.”

The phone went silent.

I got out of my car and went out onto the sand, walking the
few feet of the narrow beach to the water’s edge. It was only minutes before I
heard tires crunching over the gritty pavement of the beach’s tiny parking lot.
Through the blur of my tears, I saw the red Jeep, heard the door shut. And then
he was there, the sand kicking up behind him as he came closer. He looked tough
and strong, and though I was not sure exactly why, the fact that he was the one
who came to me now, at this particular time, felt completely right.

I watched the wind whip at his tee shirt, making it cling to
his muscular chest. Each step stripped away a piece of my composure, and when
he was finally there, standing inches from me, I had no resistance left. I
pushed myself into his arms and rose up on my toes to kiss him. He held me
tightly and kissed me back. When my tears began to flow too heavily, he pressed
my face to his chest and held me as the wind tangled our hair and the sky grew
dark.

Finally, with his arm around my shoulders he asked, “Jesus,
Claude. What’s going on?”

“I got wait-listed for USC,” I mumbled and reflexively
curled into him.

“But doesn’t that mean you’ll get in if a spot opens up?”

With my face buried in his shirt, I shook my head. “It’s a
specialized program. If something opened up, I wouldn’t necessarily be the
first one they offered it to.”

“Ah, shit. I’m sorry.” He rubbed my arm.

“I had a big fight with my father over it. He threatened to cut
off my college funds.”

“He’s just angry. He’ll cool off. It’ll be fine,” he said,
trying so hard to say the right thing.

I shook my head. “None of it matters now. I didn’t get in.”

“But aren’t there, like, a million more colleges you can get
into?” He stroked my hair, soothing me. “You’ll find another school.”

I sniffled. “I don’t want to find another school. And I
don’t have it in me to start the
whole
application process over
again
.
I’m stuck here.”

“Hey, if it makes you feel any better, until Julia’s better,
I’m stuck here, too.” He rubbed my arm again. “We can be stuck together.”

Though the idea that he wanted to be ‘stuck’ with me sounded
sweet, I didn’t understand why he’d want to. As I looked up at him, our eyes
held, and I wondered out loud, “Why me?”

He smiled down at me. “Why not?”

At that moment, it seemed like a perfectly acceptable
answer—and when he leaned down to kiss me, I turned my face up to him and kissed
him back.

Still holding me, he whispered, “Come back to the house for
awhile.”

Emotionally, I was exhausted, but I got in my car and
followed him back to Roosevelt Avenue.

At the house, I followed Toby through the front door, but in
the foyer, he stopped me.

“What?” I asked.

He pointed up the stairs. “Go see Julia. I know it’ll make
you feel better. She’s good with stuff like this.”

At that moment, I thought he might be the sweetest guy I’d
ever met. “You did pretty good yourself,” I said, and he smiled.

“I’ll be waiting for you to come down,” he whispered and
twirled a piece of my hair around his finger. Our eyes met, and for a moment, I
couldn’t breathe. Breaking our gaze, he turned me in the direction of the
stairs and gave me a little push.

I crept up the stairs to Mrs. Faye’s bedroom door. It was
slightly open, a dim light shone through the gap. I knocked softly and called
to her.

“Hi, honey.” Mrs. Faye was sitting up in her bedside chair.
Her smile was motherly and sweet as I came through the door. “Is everything
okay?”

I thought I was all cried out, but as soon as she asked, I
felt my lips begin to quiver and knew my face was a dead giveaway. Still, I
attempted to be brave.

“It’s fine.”

“You just missed your father. He was looking for you,” she
said. When I jumped, she touched my arm. “He was worried. Said you ran out of
the house upset.”

“USC,” I choked out. “It’s not happening.”

“I know, honey, and I’m so sorry about that,” her expression
was sympathetic. “How are you holding up?”

“I guess I’ll survive,” I murmured.

“You will, you will.” She patted my hand.

“I’m sorry my father bothered you,” I said, annoyed at Dad
for not only intruding on me, but now Mrs. Faye.

“It was no problem at all. You should call him and let him
know you’re here,” she said.

Wanting to dismiss him and move on, I nodded.

Glancing at the book in her lap, I saw it was a photo album,
but then I realized she was dressed—white slacks and a pretty blue blouse, and shoes,
instead of slippers. To see her in day clothes was unusual.

“You look as if you’ve been out,” I commented.

“Yes, Toby and I took a drive up to visit with Al this
afternoon.”

Mrs. Faye swiftly drew me into the day’s events, complete
with details: the car ride, the dopey guard who checked her pocketbook twice,
and the nice lunch she and Toby had on the way home. She prattled on, and it
was not hard to see she was intentionally distracting me. It was working.

“And then, I came home and pulled out some old photos. Here,
look.” She opened the book and turned it towards me. “My boys, so precious on
Al’s communion day. Look at the expression on Toby’s face.” I glanced down at a
page of images. Mrs. Faye pointed to one, a dated photo of two impish, handsomely
dressed little boys on the steps of our church downtown. The older boy was
looking straight at the camera; the younger one, Toby, was staring at his big
brother with open admiration, trying to mimic his brother’s exact stance.

Toby hadn’t mentioned the visit. Not a surprise. My crisis
had been front and center.

“Did Toby and Al talk?”

Mrs. Faye lowered her chin and shook her head. “I couldn’t
convince Toby to come inside. Al was disappointed. He gave me a letter to give
to Toby. Toby told me to throw it away, but I saved it—along with all the
others.” She said pointing to her night table. “There in my drawer, waiting to
be opened.”

I marveled at a drawer full of unopened letters from Al
Junior to his estranged brother. Were they letters of anger or resentment? Of
apology or grief?

“I’ll see if I can talk Toby into reading it,” I offered.

“It's kind of you to consider it. Both of my boys are just
so hard headed.” She closed the photo album and reached for my hand. Her thin
fingers closed over mine. “Claudia, you’re such a good girl, and I’m so pleased
that the two of you are friends. Toby needs to be around more positive
influences like you.”

I felt a little embarrassed and pressed my lips together. I
had been nothing but angry and bitter all day. Toby had been the upbeat one
this go-round.

“He’s been a positive influence on me, too,” I said.

Mrs. Faye tilted her head, and a great big smile lit up her face.
For a second, I wondered if I’d revealed something that I hadn’t meant to, but
I couldn’t think of anything.

“Would you like to watch a movie with us?” I asked.

“Oh, no, honey. You kids have fun.” She shook her head. “I
have my television shows. And after being out all afternoon, I probably won’t
last.” As I edged out the door, she said, “Don’t forget to call your father.”

“I won’t,” I promised.

I felt much more upbeat after my Mrs. Faye fix.  As
promised, I pounded out a text message to my dad informing him of my
whereabouts, and then I silenced my phone and headed down the stairs.

I sat on the couch, curling my legs under me. Toby plopped
down next to me.

“Did you see my father when he came over?” I asked him.

Toby’s expression was guarded. “He was here? When?”

“You must have passed him on the way to the beach. He spoke
with your mother,” I said.