Saving Toby

by Suzanne McKenna Link

  As we ambled towards my car, Toby said, “I know LA has nice weather, but don’t you miss the snow?”

  The night air was quiet—the kind of wintry-night-quiet from my childhood. I took a moment to inhale the fresh air. Toby scooped up a handful of snow and tossed it at me.

  I laughed, dusting the flakes from my coat. “I do miss the snow, but not having it thrown at me!”

  We giggled and flung the fluffy stuff around like little kids as we helped each other clear the snow from our car windows. He was playful and silly, his attitude infectious. I hadn’t seen him this way since that first summer, before all hell broke loose.

  When our cars were cleared and warmed, I followed the red Jeep to the Faye house.

  Inside the kitchen, I spun around in awe. He had installed cherry wood cabinets, granite countertops, a new refrigerator, stove, and ceramic tile on the floor. The only thing missing was a curtain on the window.

  “This is amazing.” I ran my fingers over the new stone countertop, stunned at the level of skill it must have taken to complete the renovation. “I can’t believe you did this all yourself. You must have done this kind of work before.”

  Toby shrugged. “As a kid, I always liked to build stuff. When Big Al wasn’t tanked, he was a good teacher.” It was the first time he’d spoken of Mr. Faye in a positive way. “I guess somewhere between then and now, I forgot how much I liked it.”

  He glanced around, and I could sense the pride he had for his work. I was aware, too, that something in the way he thought about his father had changed.

  “Yeah, I think this is what I’m meant to do. I want to be a carpenter.”

  I looked around the kitchen feeling so happy. So proud. Yes, carpentry was his calling. “When you apply to potential employers, you should include photos of the renovation with your resume.”

  He frowned. “That’s a great idea, except I don’t have a resume.”

  “That’s easy. I’ll make one for you.” I noticed the time on the new stove. “I should get home. I told my father that I’d be home before he finished his shift, which ends soon.” Toby nodded he understood. “But I want to talk more. Come back with me?”

  Toby was more than agreeable about coming back to the house. We decided to have coffee, and just as I finished setting the coffeemaker to brew, my father came home.

  Dad stood in the entryway of the kitchen surveying the scene with his perceptive eye. Toby was leaning back against the counter as I set out mugs and spoons for our coffee.

  “Well, would you look what the cat dragged in,” he said to Toby.

  “Damn, I wish I knew I was going to see you.” Toby moved towards my father. “I would have brought some donuts. I know how you cops like them.”

  I halted, watching for my father’s reaction.

  Dad eyed Toby’s unshaven, scruffy appearance with distaste. “I’m surprised Claudia recognized you with that small animal growing on your face.”

  Toby stroked his overgrown beard. “You kill me, old man, but I missed you.” I was astounded when, out of the blue, he held open his arms to my father. “Bring it in here.”

  Dad waved him off. “Get out of here.”

  “Come on,” Toby persisted. “Don’t leave me hanging.”

  Dad shook his head, but to my amazement, he stepped forward and hugged Toby briefly, clapping his back with a few loud thwacks. “You’re a nut,” Dad grunted.

  “Goodness gracious,” I fanned myself in jest. “Is this truly joking banter between my father and Toby Faye?”

  “Had the troublemaker over here to watch some football. Seems we’re in agreement over the Giants. But baseball?” Dad paused to shake his head with ridiculous remorse, “The lines are drawn.”

  “Wait for the season to start,” Toby taunted and turned to me. “Pops and I made a bet as to who’ll have the better record, the Yanks or the Mets. Loser’s team buys dinner.”

  “Dinner?” I balked.

  “Only ‘cause he’ll be buying,” Dad boasted. He looked at Toby. “You’d better have a job by then.”

  Toby chuckled.

  The scene unfolding before me was truly ironic. “Jeez, go away for a while and all kinds of weird stuff happens.”

  My father shrugged. “You miss a lot when you’re not around. You should take that offer Bill Ramsey made. Offers like that don’t come around every day.”

  “Dad, drop it.” I glared at him. He wasn’t supposed to mention the job offer I’d received from the director of Sterling Senior Care. I hadn’t told any of my friends yet. By the way Toby was tilting his head, I expected now he’d want to know what we were talking about.

  When Dad left the kitchen to change out of his uniform, I poured two mugs of coffee and offered one to Toby.

  “I can’t believe you talked to my father like that. You’re lucky ‘Pops’ didn’t pop you.”

  “Once you get past his crusty outer shell, he’s kind of soft on the inside,” Toby shrugged. “We actually get along okay.”

  “Wonders will never cease.” I led Toby into the living room and got comfortable on the couch. Feeling relaxed, I beckoned him to sit with me. “Park it, mister. I want to catch up on everything I’ve missed.”

  He plopped down next to me. “Tell me what I missed, first. What offer was your dad talking about?”

  “It’s just a work-study opportunity I was offered here in New York. You know my father, he always has to make his preference known.” I carefully skirted a detailed explanation. “He’s just upset because my mother is giving me a pretty spectacular birthday and graduation gift. My birthday is during spring break, so she booked me a week’s stay at a hotel on the beach.”

  “I heard. April and Dario told me they’re going to be out there with you for the week. Sounds great,” he said with a casual air. Though his manner was offhand, I suspected he felt snubbed that I’d not asked him to join us.

  I had purposely not included him in the plans because with our past, a whole week together seemed like asking for trouble. But tonight, remembering the girl at the bar, it felt safe to extend the offer to him. “You’re welcome to come, too.”

  “Text me the dates. I’ll look into it.”

  “Sure,” I agreed, and took a sip of my coffee. “So, besides the kitchen and job searching, tell me how you’re doing. Don’t skip any details.”

  “What can I say? There are still moments when I want to throw my shit in the Jeep and take off.” He waved a hand, motioning off and away from here. “But I squash it and for the most part, I’m doing real good. With the band, Dario and April, my aunt, Abe, and even your dad, I don’t feel so alone anymore.” He lifted his eyes to mine then. “It feels pretty good to be here, where I know people and actually have a life I like.”

  Toby was happy.

  I blinked back tears, almost speechless in this knowledge. I knew Mrs. Faye would have been so excited to hear his words. She had wanted this for him. It’s what I prayed for, too. “I’m so happy for you.”

  “Yeah, things are finally coming together.” He paused a moment. “Claude, when we were dating, I saw being with you as a way out of my life. I wanted you to make me a better person. I realize now that it was unfair to expect that from you. Changing my life is solely up to me. And, over the last year, I’ve been making a conscience decision to move towards my goals. Focusing on what I want, and what I need to do to get it, seems like such a small change in mindset, but it’s made a huge difference. I feel almost … invincible.”

  “Toby, that small difference has made all the difference. Your life is better because of it. I’m so excited to see you like this.”

  “Thanks. Unfortunately, I still haven’t found a job, but since I’m not working, we can hang out all week.”

  “Can’t. I’m flying out tomorrow.”

  He gaped at me. “But you just got here.”

  “I have to get back. My required Gerontology Practicum work-study program just started last week.” I explained. “And, I’m co-chair
ing the campus’ Relay for Life.”

  “Damn, you’re so busy all the time,” he muttered. “We could have had more time if you’d told me you were coming home.”

  “I didn’t want you to fuss over me.”

  “Really, Claude, you’ve hardly been back since you started USC. It’s a major event when you come home.”

  “I bet your girlfriend wouldn’t like you making such an event over my homecoming.”

  “My girlfriend?”

  “That girl at the bar. You’re seeing her, aren’t you?”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “You sound as if you hope she’s my girlfriend.”

  “It might be a little weird for me, but I’d be, um, happy for you,” I said in earnest. “And I think it would make things easier between us.”

  He made a project out of putting his mug down on the coffee table, sliding it one way, then the other. I could see he wasn’t comfortable telling me, but finally he said, “Leah and I hang out sometimes.”

  “That’s very vague.”

  “It falls into the category of, ‘we don’t talk about it.’ So leave it alone.”

  That meant they were involved, and knowing him, probably sexually. My blood turned cold.

  “Okay,” I inhaled, trying to push past the sting. “Whatever it is that you have with Leah, I can’t be the center of your attention. Things are different. We’re long past that kind of relationship.”

  “I’m well aware of that, Claude. You really put me in my place the last time I saw you.” He scooted forward to the edge of the couch, putting some distance between us. I remembered the harsh words I said to him and, in guilt, bowed my head.

  Sighing, he leaned back. “The point is, I get it. We’re friends and that’s fine. Actually, it’s great.”

  I stared at him trying to determine his truthfulness. “Seriously?”

  “Yes, seriously.” He grasped my hand and let out a woefully exaggerated sigh. “Please, don’t walk a tightrope around me.”

  “O-okay.” I faltered, surprised by his steadfast certainty.

  Appearing somewhat pensive, he smiled. “Julia said if I had faith, I would be rewarded. Maybe our friendship is my reward.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Wow, that’s sweet. Saccharine sweet. But I hardly believe even my friendship is enough a reward for what you’ve had to deal with.”

  “After what I put you through when I lost Julia,” he shook his head and looked into my eyes. “You didn’t give up on me. And still, across the country, when I’m having a rotten day, I know I can call you, and you’ll give me that—”

  “Annoying pep talk?” I supplied.

  He laughed. “Yeah, but really, it helps me keep going.”

  “You’re doing it all on your own,” I said. “I’m just the cheering section.”

  “Are you kidding?” Twisting to face me, he grabbed the silver chain around his neck and pulled the attached medallion out from under his shirt. Between his fingers, he held Saint Jude’s silver carved image. “I wear this every day, Claude. You got me through that first Thanksgiving. And if you hadn’t made that appointment and taken me to meet Bob, I’d probably still be driving around the country, lost and confused. Even now, you still help me just by listening—and being my ‘cheering section.’ Don’t underestimate what you’ve done for me.” Gently, he stroked the back of my hand with his thumb. “I don’t.”

  I was surprised, overwhelmed, too, by his depth of gratitude.

  “You just needed someone to lean on.”

  “Yeah,” he agreed as he put a hand on my shoulder. “Hopefully you’ll never need the kind of help I needed, but I want you to know that I’m here for you if ever you need me. I owe you.”

  I warmed under the weight of his pledge. He was very different—calm, collected, and focused. He even looked different; that haunting sadness in his eyes was gone. It pleased me to realize that, without consciously attempting to do so, I had ultimately kept my promise to Mrs. Faye. I had helped Toby find what she’d always known he’d been looking for.

  “You don’t owe me anything,” I insisted. I had to cover my mouth as a powerful yawn escaped me. “I’m sorry. The East Coast-West Coast time zone change is throwing me off. How about I lean on you right now … and sleep?”

  “Sleep?” he laughed and shook his head. “Oh, hell. It’s late. I should shut up and let you go to bed.”

  As he rose to his feet, I grabbed his hand. I really didn’t want him to leave. “It’s snowing bad. Hang out and wait for it to stop. We can check to see what’s on television, and I think there’s some cookies in the kitchen.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “You have cookies?”

  For the first time since we’d broken up, I didn’t worry about him blurring the lines of our friendship. He got it, and now that he had someone else in his life, I felt safe to really, truly relax with him. Knowing that, I set out a sleeve of chocolate chip cookies and turned on the television.

  He draped an arm over me as I rested my head on his shoulder. It was the perfect end to my visit home.

  49. Toby

  The house’s heating system made gurgling noises as it kicked on. Claudia hadn’t even made it through the first ten minutes of the show she’d put on before she fell asleep. From the Chiamettis’ living room couch, I could see out the bay window at how the snow swirled around outside on the front lawn. It was sticking—a sign that the temperature outside had dropped to or below the freezing mark, but with Claudia tucked in under my arm, I didn’t care what was happening out there.

  Claudia was finally seeing me do well. Pressing my face against the top of her head, I inhaled. Sighing, I stared up at the ceiling. I could not act on my attraction to her. Instead, I thought about the trip out to California in March. It would be an opportunity to create some new and positive air between us.

  The hallway light in the stairway went on, and I heard the old man’s footsteps.

  “You still here?” Mr. Chiametti asked, as he came into the room. He was wearing a rumpled long sleeve tee shirt with plaid lounge pants, and by his half-cocked eyes, he looked as if he’d been asleep. He still had the need to check on us.

  Claudia stirred sleepily, yawned, and then stood up. Looking out the front window, she commented, “The snow is really piling up.”

  I stood up, too. “Mind if I crash here tonight?”

  “You should,” Claudia said, walking to the stairs and then glancing over her shoulder. “We can have breakfast before I go to the airport in the morning.”

  Her body was backlit by the hall light, making her appear unearthly. My body pulsed at the stirring thought of lying next to her sleep-warmed body. It had me itching to follow her up the stairs.

  “Sleep on the couch, not with my daughter,” Pops said, as if he were reading my mind.

  “Dad,” Claudia mumbled a drowsy complaint. “I wasn’t offering him my bed.”

  “Yeah, she might not be able to keep her hands off of me, and then you’d end up with a grandkid with my face.”

  “Don’t give me nightmares,” Pops muttered.

  I smiled. “We’d make beautiful kids.”

  “Keep it in your pants.”

  “I’m just saying.”

  Heavy-eyed, Claudia turned around on the stairs and pouted. “Stop talking as if I don’t hear you.”

  “Go to bed,” her father said.

  “I’m going. Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight,” we echoed. She disappeared up the stairs. Seconds later, the hallway went dark.

  Pops went to the door, flicked off the porch light, and checked the door lock.

  “She’s a good girl, my daughter,” he said with admiration.

  I nodded. “She’s pretty terrific.”

  Opening a closet next to the bathroom door, he pulled out a blanket. “I hope she comes back to New York after graduation.”

  “I didn’t know she was thinking about staying out there.”

  He handed me the blanket and shook his head,
clearly not happy about it.

  “Unfortunately, she seems to like it there, with her mother. My ex-wife booked her in some fancy hotel on the beach for a graduation present.”

  “I know. Claudia invited me out there.”

  “I’m sure it’s some tacit plan of my ex’s to sway Claudia to stay out there and get her Master’s degree at USC,” he said, with a sneer. “But Sterling, the senior residence she used to volunteer at, offered her a tempting arrangement—a paid internship. She’d be able to work on her degree at Stony Brook University while doing a few rotations at the home. It’s good work experience, and I’m pushing for it.”

  I dropped back down onto the couch and pulled off my shoes. “Can I give you some advice on Claudia?”

  He snorted. “You’re going to give me advice on my daughter? This I gotta hear.”

  I ignored his jab and made eye contact with him. “Let her make her own decision. She doesn’t like being pushed into anything.”

  He opened his mouth to say something, but snapped it shut. He knew I was right.

  “Damn, that kid is too much like me. Stubborn,” he muttered. Turning to scrutinize me, he said, “Now, let me offer you some advice. No one’s going to hire you looking like that,” he waved a finger at my hairy face. “Clean yourself up.”

  50. Toby

  The weather in Carlsbad, California, was perfect for an early morning run. I did a few leg stretches before I stepped out from behind the palm trees that lined the covered stone walkway in front of our suite and headed to the beach. The resort was right on the shoreline, and it only took a minute to reach it.

  I started with a light sprint to warm up. My toes dug into the soft sand, and the muscles in my calves started to fire up. I pushed myself to go faster. As I did most days in New York, I had run every morning since I’d hit the West Coast. The mild breeze carried the taste of the Pacific along with it. The ocean air felt good on my freshly shaved face. Right after Claudia’s visit home, I’d cut my hair and shaved my matted whiskers off. Clean-shaven.

  I welcomed the salty fresh air. It helped me focus and clear my head as well as discharged tension. It was not anger I needed to release, but the growing need for something I knew I couldn’t have. I ran hard to drive the hunger away.