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.
“What did he say?”
I was surprised at this line of questioning. “He was looking for me,” I answered, and it dawned on me why he was so put off. “You never told your mother about the investigation, did you?”
“No,” he said. “And I don’t plan to. It’s still an open case.”
“I didn’t get the impression that the subject came up,” I said and bit my lip. “But, she was upset over something.”
“What?”
“That you didn’t go in to see your brother at the prison today.”
“Oh, Jesus,” he groaned. “She got to you.”
“I don’t see what the big deal is. Why can’t you just stop in and hear what the guy has to say? Or, at the very least, read the letters he wrote? Your mother said she has a whole pile of them up in her room.”
Toby wrapped his arms around his head and leaned forward as if he were trying to block out the words. “You don’t understand. What my mother, and now you, fail to realize is my brother and I hate each other.”
The photos Mrs. Faye had shown me looked like that of any young family celebrating the milestones in life, but I knew there was much they didn’t reveal.
Boys fought. When my young cousins, Paul and Frank, weren’t eating or playing video games, they were always knocking each other around. But unlike my cousins, I sensed a barren emptiness between the Faye brothers. Toby never talked about Al Junior. With the exception of when Mrs. Faye talked about him, it was as if the older brother didn’t exist. I suspected their fights had been laced with enmity.
I touched Toby’s arm tentatively. “I don’t understand, not completely. But I want to. Explain it to me.”
He blew out a breath. “You want to hear the gory details?”
“You don’t have to tell me if you’d rather not.”
“It’s fine,” he shrugged. “I’m sure you know my father liked his alcohol. For a guy that drank regularly, he was weirdly strict about details. Julia claims I was his favorite, but that’s probably because I pretty much did as I was told. But my brother, man, he never did anything without a fight. And holy crap, when he was a teenager, my father and him used to really go at it.”
I could visualize the scene, right there in the living room. Biting words, hits that bruised.
“Didn’t your mom try to stop it?”
“She always tried, but with two big guys fisting it out, there wasn’t much she could do. When the fighting was really bad, she would take me into another room and as
k me to pray with her.” His eyes strayed across the room. “Then, God answered our prayers.”
“How so?”
“My father died.”
Shocked, I said, “God doesn’t answer prayers like that.”
His eyes shifted back to my face. “How do you know? I didn’t necessarily wish him dead, but I wanted him gone.”
“But you didn’t really mean it,” I countered.
“I meant it,” he said without blinking. “My house was like a war zone. Al was always mouthing off and getting into trouble. As far as I’m concerned, he deserved the pummeling he got, but Big Al was a hard guy. As a kid, I was afraid of him. When you go through something like that, seeing your family battling all the time and your mom crying, you want it to end. I prayed for a divorce.”
“How old were you when your father died?”
“I was twelve, Al was sixteen. I thought things would be … quieter, I guess, without my father around. But, it wasn’t easy—he was so stinking drunk he drove his truck into that couple’s car and killed them. Damn.”
Toby leaned forward and clasped his hands together. “It felt like people hated us for what he did. After that, things got really bad with Al. We never got along, but without my father around, he beat on me like he wanted to kill me.”
Red crept up Toby’s neck, and after a heavy moment of silence, he rushed into an explanation. “This is old news, and it’s not like he could hurt me anymore. I’m a lot stronger than I was then. I’m just telling you so you’ll understand why I don’t want to see my brother. We have a bad history.”
“You were so young. Why didn’t your mother intervene or call Social Services?”
“My mother was a sickly, grieving widow, and I didn’t know about that stuff. I just tried to stay out of his way.” Toby shrugged. “Then I met Devlin and Ray. Ray’s parents divorced, and his mother didn’t care who hung out at the house. She even bought us alcohol and got stewed with us.”
“Stewed?”
“Yeah, cooked, blazed, high. Whatever you want to call it.”
“His mother got high with you?” I scrunched my face in distaste. “That’s so irresponsible.”
“Maybe, but escaping to Ray’s was the way I got through those years.”
“Do you still do things like that?”
He shook his head. “Not really. It messes my head up too much.”
“Well, that’s good. I don’t like that stuff,” I grumbled. “And I don’t like to think about you hanging out in a place like that.”
He snorted. “Sorry, Claude. I’m no pillar of the community.”
“But you’re better than people like that.”
“Thanks. I take that as high praise coming from you,” he said.
“Good, cause I mean it. I’m pretty picky about who I hang out with,” I said, and he smiled. “So with you out of the house, things got better with Al?”
“We managed to get along just enough to take care of Julia during her first bout of cancer. After she went into remission, I left. We didn’t see each other much after that. The shithead went and got his girlfriend pregnant. Then one night he was in a bar, and some guy pissed him off. I’m sure you’ve heard the rest of the story.”
“There’s a baby?”
“Yeah. In Florida. After Al was sentenced, Felicia moved in with her sister in Tampa. While I was living in Cape Coral, I looked her up,” he said. “I got to see him once, before I came home.”
“A boy?”
“Yeah, and he’s so cool. His name is Dylan.” Toby smiled. It was obvious he had a soft spot for his nephew. “I want to get Julia down there to see him.”
My mouth dropped open. “She hasn’t seen him yet?”
“Felicia took off as soon as Al got moved upstate to Otisville. She was still pregnant. I don’t blame her. Al will never be any kind of father to that kid,” he said. “But as soon as Julia’s finished her last treatment, I’ll get her down there.”
“Please don’t make your mother wait. Let’s ask Felicia to come visit. Right away.”
He looked at me for a serious moment. I knew he was considering what the implication of waiting meant—maybe there wasn’t time. He ran his hand through his hair.
“I guess it can’t hurt to ask. I’ll email Felicia. We’ll make it happen.”
Eager to get Mrs. Faye and her grandson together for the first time, I reached for his hand. “Let’s do,” I said, “That’ll be amazing and something I’d like to see.”
“Okay. But just because it’s my brother’s kid, doesn’t mean this is in any way about him.”
I would have to let this go, for now at least. I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded.
“Now, I want to talk about what happened down at the beach.” Leaning back on the couch, he smiled at me. “You kissed me.”
My mouth dropped open. “But you kissed me, too.”
“But you kissed me first. In fact, you threw yourself into my arms, and then you kissed me.”
I blushed and closed my eyes. I wasn’t used to discussing this kind of stuff.
“Yes, I did,” I confessed.
“I kind of think you like kissing me.” He leaned closer, his lips inches from my face.
I don’t know why it felt so painful to admit what was obviously the truth. Like it gave him power over me. It’s okay, I told myself. Get over it, and maybe he’ll kiss you again.
“I do,” I finally whispered.
He smiled, his grin wide and smug. “How about that? Claudia Chiametti likes kissing me.”
“Alright, so I admitted it. But what does this mean for us—what are we now?”
Without answering, Toby leaned back against the couch and slowly stretched his long arms over his head like a big, proud tomcat. Sinking deeply into the cushions, he lifted his long legs to rest on the coffee table before he turned his eyes on me. “What do you think we are now?”
“Dating?”
“Hmm.” A smile touched the corners of his mouth. He picked up my hand and ran a thumb over my knuckles. “Are you saying you want to be my girlfriend, Claude?”
I was intimidated by the conversation. He seemed to be purposely making this painful. I glanced at him, nervous. “Isn’t that what you want?”
While I sat on the edge of my seat wondering if I was making a fool of myself, he concentrated on our hands, aligning my hand to his and slowly, one by one, intertwining our fingers. Finally, he shrugged. “Yeah, that’d be okay.”
“Wow. That is hardly the enthusiasm I was expecting.” I tried to pull my hand away, but he held tight and rolled his head in my direction.
“I don’t want to get too excited until we make it official.”
“Official? And just how do we do that?” Suspicious, I eyed him.
“First, you have to understand, if we’re official, all purchases are final—there’s no returns or exchanges. You cool with that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Maybe you need a little persuading,” he murmured. He leaned into nuzzle the crook of my neck. His breath was hot on my skin as his tongue traced my collarbone. He nipped up the length of my neck gently with his teeth. The area tingled under his attention, and I felt it down to my toes.
“Okay, okay,” I pushed at his shoulders. “You’re very convincing.”
“Good,” he whispered, rolling back to put his arm around my shoulders. “Now we just have to seal the deal with a kiss.”
“This is some kooky ceremony,” I muttered, but I leaned into him to press a quick kiss on his mouth anyway. Once my mouth touched his, though, he caught me and held me to him. His lips moved over mine in a soft, but thorough kiss.
Leaning back, he held up our intertwined fingers in triumph. “Opa! Congratulations, you are now my girlfriend!”
I giggled. Toby made laughing feel like breathing. It just happened. After the traumatic day, being with him was exactly where I wanted to be.
He picked up the television remote. “So what do you sa
y? Want to watch Mrs. Doubtfire?”
He switched off the lamp on the side table putting us in almost complete darkness. The television screen illuminated the far corner of the room. He stretched his long length out on the couch, his feet extending over the arm at one end, and patted the cushion in front of him.
“Come lay down next to me. I want to give my new girlfriend a little TLC after her tough day.”
“That sounds nice,” I said, sidling closer.
The irony of the situation, however, was not lost upon me. Over the last few days, I had boasted about my plans and taken pains to hammer home how different we were. I had my lofty dreams with my wonderful plans while he had this awful history and a sick mother lying upstairs. Now, here he was, comforting me. I was ashamed at how distraught I had been over my insignificant problems. I would not whine about them again.
He lifted his arm so I could position myself next to him. Once I moved back against his chest, he used the remote to start the movie, and he wrapped his arms around me.
We watched the movie quietly for a little while, but Toby kept nuzzling my neck and stroking my hip. As funny as Robin Williams was in drag, Toby’s “TLC” was distracting, and I simply could not concentrate on the movie.
Trying to derail the growing sexual tension, I asked, “So, would you consider signing up for a college class?”
“Huh?” He turned to look at me blankly. “Please tell me you aren’t talking about me going to school, again?”
“We talked so briefly about it the other day. If you found something you were interested in, you’d feel more grounded, and maybe, happier here.”
“I don’t know how much happier I could be than right now.” I could hear the smile in his words. I rolled onto my back so I could see him better. His eyes swept across my face as he reached over to trace a finger across the bridge of my nose. Then he took a deep breath and looked into my eyes.
“You’re so beautiful.”
The expression of awe in his eyes was so unrestrained, so raw, it did weird things to me. I couldn’t take my eyes from his. My heartbeat began to accelerate. Damn, I’m in way over my head with this guy.
I tilted my face up and boldly raised my mouth to his. With the invitation, Toby took no time launching a lethal attack, our connection propelling him into action. Wrapping his arms around me, he eased his weight over me as his mouth fully covered mine. His whole being exerted hot energy, and under him, my body melted.
Saving Toby Page 12
