Other than our proximity, there was nothing to suggest anything had happened, and I decided not to even mention it. To bring it up would only be admitting that it disturbed me and give it undue importance. After I showered and came back into the room fully dressed, Toby was awake. With hands behind his head, he was staring at the ceiling.
“Hey, I forgot to ask you how the kitchen renovation is going.” I opened the blinds and threw the room into bright daylight.
He rolled up on his elbow. “Really good.”
“How did you learn how to do that?” I asked, tossing him a granola bar and opening one for myself.
“Carpentry? It’s genetic.” His longish bangs fell into his eyes, and he grinned. “I figured the rest out with some online tutorials.”
I felt the temptation to reach over and brush the hair away. With a shake of his head, though, the bangs shifted aside, alleviating my inclination to do so.
He popped a chunk of granola into his mouth. “I still have a lot to do.”
“Any news on the job front?”
“Nothing steady. But I joined a band,” he said, looking at me as if waiting for my reaction.
“Playing guitar?”
“Yeah. We call ourselves ‘Young Cranky Old Guys.”
“Interesting name.”
“We’ve already played a few gigs just from word-of-mouth—a sweet sixteen and two small parties. Probably do the bar circuit soon,” he said. “Right now we do mostly cover stuff, but we’re working on our own music.”
“Nice,” I picked up a comb and ran it through my wet hair. “I’ll bet you have lots of fans.”
He made a low snorting noise. “Yeah, if you count all the sixteen-year-olds who follow us on our fan page, we’re quite the celebrities.”
“Why is it that I can totally picture a group of teeny boppers vying for your attention?”
He laughed. “Just what every guy wants, his own personal, underage harem.”
“Oh, I’m sure more appropriately aged women are showing you attention, too. Being out there, in the public eye, you’re bound to meet someone.” I put on an air of teasing, but I finally stopped when Toby’s lips tightened into a frown.
Bowing his head, he hopped off the bed and went to the window. His uneasy expression reflected in the glass as he looked outside.
“I think it’s great that we can talk like friends, but I can’t discuss meeting new people with you, Claude. Not after what we’ve been through.” Turning to face me, he ran his hand through his hair. “I understand you want me to be happy. But I’m not in the same place as you. Even thinking about it puts me on edge.”
“Okay,” I nodded. “We’ll talk about something else.”
In spite of the promise to divert our conversation to a safer topic, I couldn’t think of anything else to say. For a long moment, neither of us said anything. Thankfully, his cell beeped with an incoming text and broke the silence.
Glancing at it, he grimaced. “It’s Bob reminding me about our next appointment.” Toby said, but avoided looking at me. “He didn’t want me to see you.”
“But I was the one who brought you to meet with him.”
He stole a quick glance at me. “It’s because he knows how I feel.”
My face burned with indignation, and for a moment, I was too livid to speak. Tight lipped, I asked, “You didn’t come all this way thinking there was a chance of us getting back together, did you?”
“No.” His quick reply was defensive, but he looked flustered. “But I was thinking over the summer, maybe we could talk.”
I twisted away from him, dragging the comb through my hair, as I turned his hopeless proposition over in my mind.
Glancing back at him, casually, I said, “I’m not coming home this summer.”
His eyes narrowed. “Not at all?”
“No. My mother got me a job in her office, and I need the money.” It wasn’t the complete truth, but I would make it happen. He opened his mouth to say something, but I forged ahead. “It’ll be better this way. I don’t want to complicate things between us. And then I can also spend some extra time with my mom.”
He avoided looking at me. “When will you be back?”
“I don’t know.”
Frowning, he shoved his hands in his pockets.
“When I come back doesn’t matter. We’ll keep in touch.” I put my hand on the bedpost, as close as I dared get. “All that matters is that you get the help you need.”
Toby groaned. “Jesus, I know you think I overreacted yesterday, but that guy plowed into you,” he protested.
“You can’t go around fixing situations with your fists. And believe it or not, I can defend myself.”
He stared at me for a tense moment and, remarkably, broke into a grin. “With the way you held me back, I don’t doubt it. But Claude,” he said, standing more erect. “I am getting better at controlling my anger.”
“That’s good.” I tried to sound enthusiastic, but I wondered if his anger would be something he’d ever have control over.
“It’s the truth. You’ll see,” he said. He stepped closer, his hand settling on top of mine on the bedpost. “Since you’re not coming home, can you promise me something?”
I looked at his hand and then at him.
“Don’t be with anyone over the summer.”
Just like that, my temper flared again. “Just the summer? What about the fall and the winter?” I jerked my hand from under his. “Do you think I should never have another relationship and perhaps become celibate?”
He smiled sheepishly. “Too much to ask?”
I bristled. “Not only is it too much to ask, but you have no right to ask!”
“You’re right. I’m sorry,” he sighed. “But the thought of you being here with all these guys and now that you’re not, you know …”
“Are you afraid I’ll go on a sexual rampage now that I’m freed of my virginal burden?”
He winced.
“You come here with your sad eyes, crawl into my bed while I’m sleeping, and expect me to forget everything that happened?” I snapped. “We are not together, and if I decide to screw around indiscriminately, I won’t be discussing it with you!”
He leaned his head back and inhaled sharply. When he looked back at me, I saw anger in his eyes, tinged with uncertainty.
“This is hard for me.”
I crossed my arms in front of me. “And what you did was hard for me.”
“Claude, don’t,” he pleaded, lowering his eyes. After a nerve-racking moment of silence between us, he said, “I should go.”
I felt a need to close the awkwardness that had opened between us. “Look, as long as you understand we’re not getting back together, we’ll be fine. What’s done is done. Please call me when you get to Abe’s so I know you got there safely.”
“Sure,” he said, and he opened his arms to me. “Hug?”
Done in by our squabbling, I let him pull me into his arms. I wanted it to feel different, but I fit right into him just as I had in the past, my cheek finding the once familiar place between his neck and shoulder. I always admired the unyielding firmness of his body, the toughness that was synonymous with his strength. The warmth of our bodies intermingled through our clothes, and the smell of him filled my senses. Nothing had changed for us physically, but emotionally, though the pain had dulled, a throng of old hurt left me feeling hallow inside.
He rubbed up and down my back twice and relinquished his hold on me.
Looking me in the eye, he said, “For whatever it’s worth, I’m glad you followed your dream, that you’re going to school here, Claude. I know how much it means to you.”
“Thanks.” My lips twitched with a flimsy smile. “I’m exactly where I want to be.”
He nodded, picked up his backpack, and waved before he left my room.
After his visit, I never mentioned anything to Toby that might remotely hint at the dating subject. I didn’t do much socializing anyway. Occasionally,
I agreed to go out with a guy, but dating was not important. I preferred simpler diversions—a night of mindless dancing, a good movie, cheering our Trojans to victory during a game. These small outlets helped me recharge and stay focused.
With my nose to the grindstone, semesters tumbled from one into another.
48. Claudia
A Year Later…
It was a bitter cold, January night in New York when I parked my Camry in the lot of The Mad Monkey, the name of the bar April had given me. I was amazed how quickly I’d become used to the moderate temperatures of Southern California; I could barely stop shivering since I’d been home. Snowfall over the frosty ground from the night before made me feel nostalgic.
My life was hardly recognizable from the one I’d left in New York. The last year and a half away had changed me, irrevocably. I was sprinting toward graduation with a possible internship lined up and acceptance into two graduate programs for my Master's in Wellness Management. I felt unstoppable.
I had taken advantage of cheap airfare to come home for an extended weekend. Dad and April were the only ones who knew I was home. Tonight, I had bailed on the get-together April and Dario were hosting when I’d heard Toby’s band was playing nearby.
Through the still air of the night, I could hear the sounds of his band, Young Cranky Old Men, playing inside the building from the parking lot. The sound of the lively beat sent goose bumps down my arms. I would finally see Toby perform.
For the first time in a long while, I was inexplicably nervous about seeing him, and, as I approached the entrance to the bar, I rehearsed things that I could say to him. We had been apart longer than we had been together.
I made my way through the door, paid the cover, and found a place near the bar to watch the band. It took a few minutes for me to adjust to the darkened, vibrating atmosphere. A loose and sweaty crowd was on their feet dancing. Resisting the urge to join them, I searched the musical group and found Toby on the raised, wooden platform amongst the band members.
I stayed back and assessed him from afar. The first thing I noticed was his beard. He’d let it grow out so much that it covered the whole lower part of his face and crept down onto his neck. His long wavy brown hair stuck out from under a grey knit cap. He was dressed in fitted blue jeans and an untucked dark blue button-up shirt. With the sleeves rolled up, I could see his forearm muscles move as his fingers maneuvered quickly and confidently over the strings of his guitar. He tapped his foot in beat to the song, seeming oblivious to the crowd, even to the mix of women dancing and gazing up at him; it was clear he was caught up in his music.
When the set ended, I pulled out my cell and sent him a text, “Hey. Coming to see you.”
I watched him check his phone, and seconds later my phone beeped with his reply.
“Cool. When?”
Rapid fire, I shot him an answer. “Now.”
Summoning up my courage, I approached the stage.
Toby, with his back to the room, held his cell out in front of him as he shrugged off the strap of his guitar.
He hit me back.
“Where r u?”
The band’s lanky, shorthaired blonde lead singer moved to the edge of the stage, and with a practiced smile, gave me the once over. “Hey there, gorgeous. How's about you tell me your name over a drink?”
Ignoring him, I texted Toby again, “Right behind you. Turn around.”
Instead of turning around, Toby stared at the phone as if my message was cryptic.
“No, thanks,” I told the singer and pointed at Toby. “But could you please get your guitar player’s attention for me?”
Obliging me, he reached back to swat Toby’s shoulder. “Hey, T, I believe this Betty here wants to rock your world.”
Unsuspecting, Toby finally turned around.
“Holy shit,” he swore. “You’re here.” Without delay, he hopped down from the platform in front of me and lifted me up off the ground in a warm, energetic hug.
After releasing me, he jacked a thumb over his shoulder, towards the stage. “You hear us play?”
“Yes, and I was very impressed. You guys sound amazing.”
“Ah, we’re just having fun. But that people actually dance and sing along. It’s virtually the best high I ever had.” Practically giddy with energy, he did a little drum roll on his head and grinned.
“You seem to really be enjoying yourself.”
“I am. I really am.” His eyes were bright with an air of self-assurance I hadn’t seen in a long while. “Jesus, I can't believe you're actually here. It’s been forever since you’ve been home.”
“You let your hair and beard grow. Long.” I reached up to tug at the unruly mop at the back of his neck when a glimmer at his ear caught my eye.
“What is that?” I asked, letting my fingers slide over the small diamond stud in his ear.
“You don’t like it?” He raised his eyebrows in question, and up close, I was reminded how dazzling his eyes were.
“No, it’s … unexpected.” My face heated. The change in appearance, the engaging smile, the exuberance—it all threw me. I hadn't expected to find him so changed. “Everything about you looks different. Do I still know you?”
He took my hand and squeezed it. “Other than I’m now a way-cool musician who’s in dire need of a shave and a haircut, I’m still me, Claude.” Tugging my hand, he motioned towards the bar. “Come on. I'll buy you a drink before we pack up the equipment. You gotta meet the guys.”
The band had converged around the bar where their friends, girlfriends, and even some fans were waiting for them.
“Good set.” A guy reached out to shake Toby’s hand as I hopped up on the last available stool at the bar. Toby thanked him, and, as he waved to the bartender, a tall girl with short, black hair came up alongside him. She was more solidly built than I, but also curvier, and besides the tattoo on her neck, she had a nose piercing. The girl touched his back with familiarity, and Toby turned towards to her, blocking her from my view. He leaned close and said something to her that I couldn’t make out. The girl nodded and stepped away from him, but not before she looked me over with her dark assessing eyes. With a lump in my throat, I realized it was probably his girlfriend. Coming here, I hadn’t even considered him being with someone. It hadn’t entered my head.
“Who was that?” I asked when Toby turned back to me.
He shifted uneasily. “Who?”
I snorted at his attempt to cover it. “That girl you were just talking to. Is she your girlfriend?”
He looked over his shoulder, but the girl had disappeared into the crowd. “She’s no one.”
This only made me want to know more, but he didn’t owe me any details. He had a private life—one that didn’t include me. I tried to forget the pretty, tattooed girl.
I ordered a white zinfandel, and Toby asked for a beer. It was only after I sipped it that I realized I’d become the focal point of the band members’ curious stares. Toby called out to them introducing me. There was Dan, the lead vocalist that I’d met on stage; RJ, another guitar player; and Keith, who played several instruments but mostly keyboard.
“Hey,” an older guy I recognized as the drummer bounded up between us. He was built compactly with thick muscled arms and a tattoo sleeve that ran down his right arm. His dark and wild curly hair was just short enough to display the impish glint in his eye. Energetic and unable to sit still, he grabbed the back of my seat and threw his elbow on the bar top.
“Who we got here?”
“Bones, this is Claudia. Claudia, Bones.”
“This is Claudia? The Claudia?” He took my hand and pumped it up and down with exaggerated enthusiasm. “How about that—she does exist!”
“Alright, that’s enough,” Toby muttered, appearing somewhat uncomfortable. He pushed at the drummer to make him go away. But Bones, refusing to go, put his arm around Toby’s neck.
“Were you here when he blew those cords during our first set?” he asked me.
I laughed. “I think I missed that.”
Toby scoffed. “Dude, you’re making me look bad.”
“Just messing with you, bro.” Bones winked at me. “This guy’s aces.” He patted his shirt pocket before pulling out a pack of cigarettes. “Damn, lost my lighter. Either of you got a light?”
Both Toby and I shook our heads. Bones shrugged, and, winking at me, he raised his beer glass. “Cheers Claudia. Nice to finally meet you.” Then he turned yelling out to someone else for a lighter and pushed away into the crowd.
Before I had a chance to ask, Toby said, “I quit smoking again, about six months ago.”
“That’s terrific,” I said, thrilled with the news.
Conversation and laughter with the band continued through another round of drinks. My presence made Toby the butt of much ribbing, the guys taking enjoyment in trying to embarrass him in front of me. Eventually the band began to trickle back to the stage to dissemble and pack the equipment.
“Sorry you had to endure that,” Toby said.
“I’m not,” I told him. “I like them. They seem like good guys.” It had been nice to see him surrounded by such a close knit of friends.
“Yeah, they’re cool.” He looked back towards the stage. “I have to go pack up. It’ll only take a little while. Will you wait?”
“Of course,” I said. “I was hoping you could finally show me that kitchen of yours.”
“Definitely,” he smiled. “Sit tight. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
It was after midnight when the group finished loading all the equipment into Dan’s truck and I followed Toby outside. It was flurrying, and a thin coat of snow had already settled over the cars in the parking lot.
Saving Toby Page 31
