The Awakening

by McBean, Brett

  “Or... I could call her for you.”

  “That sounds better.”

  “Okay, but you know you’re gonna have to face them eventually.”

  “I know, but I’d rather it be later.”

  “Putting off the inevitable. Good to see you picked up some bad habits from Franklin.”

  Toby smiled. Looking down at Frankie’s grave, he said, “Well, thanks for listening, Frankie. I’ll be seeing you around, and remember, don’t tell anyone what I told you. If you do, I’ll tell everyone you cried at the end of Titanic.”

  “Frankie cried at the end of Titanic?” Suzie said, her smile widening. “My Frankie?”

  “Yep. Like a baby. Of course, he said it was because he had something in his eye.”

  Suzie blew a kiss at the grave. “See you tomorrow, my love.”

  As they left Frankie’s grave and walked towards the entrance, Suzie said, “So, what did you tell Franklin that you don’t want anyone to know?”

  “Oh, um, you know, just guy stuff.”

  “I see. So, Titanic, huh? Not even I cried at the end of Titanic.” She paused, said, “Well, maybe a few tears. But I’m allowed. I’m a girl.”

  “So was Frankie.”

  They both laughed, and it felt good, like old times.

  Suzie held true to her promise. She didn’t touch a drop of alcohol for the entire night, which meant, rather than Toby’s parents having to come and pick him up, Suzie was able to drive him home (Suzie wouldn’t let him walk home alone, which was fine by him—he was much too full of spaghetti).

  And being inside Suzie’s house wasn’t so bad this time—it still felt strange being there, no longer the familiar, comfortable house he knew and loved, but it was bearable, he didn’t feel as claustrophobic and overwhelmed with sadness like the previous visit.

  As they neared Toby’s house, the sight of a police car parked outside his house sent waves of panic through his body. “Oh my God,” he breathed.

  “Relax, hon, I’m sure it’s nothing serious,” Suzie said.

  Toby’s heart pounded; he feared the worst. “Sure, there’s always police in front of my house at ten o’clock on a Wednesday.”

  Suzie pulled her car up to the curb opposite his house, and Toby was out and hurrying across the street before she had turned off the engine. Neighbors were scattered about the street, on lawns, but Toby barely noticed them as he rushed up to the open front door.

  “Mom? Dad?” he called, panic shaking his voice, and he was never so glad to hear his mom’s voice when she said, “In the kitchen.”

  Toby hurried through the house and when he entered the kitchen, saw both his parents. His dad was standing near the kitchen table, talking to two uniformed cops, a male and a female. His mom, sitting at the table, got up and walked over when she saw Toby, a worried look on her face.

  “What’s going on?” Toby panted.

  “That’s some broken window,” Suzie said, coming into the kitchen.

  “Huh? Broken window?” Toby breathed.

  “Someone threw a rock through our front window,” his mom said.

  “Oh,” Toby said, relieved it was nothing serious, but also concerned that both his parents’ faces appeared more worried than what a broken window warranted. “No one was hurt?”

  “No, thank God. Dad was in the kitchen doing the dishes, I was reading in the bedroom.”

  “Must’ve given you two one hell of a fright.”

  His mom looked at Suzie and nodded. “You better believe it. Say, thanks for driving Toby home.”

  “Don’t mention it. Anything I can do?”

  “No. The police have already taken my statement. They’re almost finished taking David’s.”

  Toby looked over at his dad; he looked tired, and fed-up.

  “What else happened?” Toby said, turning back to his mom.

  “Hmm?”

  “You both look too anxious for just a rock through the window.”

  “It was scary, Toby. Someone actually threw a rock through...”

  “We’re about done here,” the female police officer said.

  “This is Toby, my son.”

  The police officer, twenty-something, brunette, fairly attractive, said, “Hi there. I don’t suppose you have any idea who might’ve done this?”

  Toby swallowed. “Um, no, not really.”

  “Not really?”

  “Well, it could’ve been anyone. A lot of kids have it in for me at the moment.”

  The officer frowned. “Why is that?”

  Toby sighed. Did he really have to get into it now?

  “He’s friends with someone who isn’t very well liked in town. Some of the kids have taken offense to that,” his mom said.

  “Oh, okay.” The officer obviously wasn’t a local. “Well, we’ll take the rock and note, see if we can get anything from them. But I wouldn’t hold my breath.”

  “Note?” Toby said to the officer.

  “Yes, there was a note attached to the rock.”

  “What did it say?”

  The officer glanced at Toby’s mom. “Well, maybe I’ll leave it up to your parents to tell you, if they think it’s appropriate. Now, we’ll interview the neighbors, see if anyone saw anything. But other than that, I’m afraid there’s not a lot else we can do.”

  “I understand,” his mom said. “Thank you officer.”

  The woman nodded, and then walked over to her partner—Toby recognized him as the young man from the other day, Officer Reilly—who was still talking with Toby’s dad.

  “A note?” Toby said, turning to his mom. “I knew there was something else going on.”

  “Told ya, he’s a smart kid,” Suzie said.

  “We’ll talk about it later,” his mom said.

  “Well, I’ll get out of your hair,” Suzie said. “I had a good night, Toby. Thanks for the company.”

  Toby nodded. “Yeah, me too. Thanks for dinner.”

  “You’re most welcome. Nancy, call if there’s anything you need.”

  “I will. Thanks.”

  The moment Suzie left, Toby turned to his mom. “So what did the note...?”

  “Later,” she reiterated.

  With a sigh, Toby headed into the family room. Glass littered the carpet under the window, the curtains fluttered gently with the breeze.

  Toby went outside to get a better look at the broken window. The hole was big, bigger than when Frankie and Warrick had thrown rocks through Mr. Joseph’s windows.

  While Toby stood looking at the broken window, the officers, followed by his parents, came outside. “If we find out anything, we’ll be sure to let you know,” the female officer said.

  “Okay, thank you officers,” Toby’s dad said.

  “Yes, thank you,” his mom said.

  “We’re sorry about the inconvenience,” Officer Reilly told them. “Goodnight.”

  The officers turned left and began their door-knocking at the Weisenburn’s. There was still a number of neighbors milling about, watching the proceedings, including, Toby noticed, Mr. Joseph. The old man was standing by his front door, and though the porch light was off, the hallway light cast a dim glow on his form. “I’ll be back in a minute,” Toby told his parents.

  “Where are you going?” his mom said.

  “To speak to Mr. Joseph. Now, don’t have a fit, I won’t be long. I just want to apologize for earlier and tell him what happened.”

  “He’ll find out when he speaks to the police.”

  “Nancy,” his dad said. “Let him go.” To Toby: “But don’t be long.”

  Toby sighed, nodded, then crossed the street. He felt the wandering gaze of the neighbors following him as he walked over to Mr. Joseph’s.

  “Bonswa,” Mr. Joseph said as Toby walked up the porch steps.

  “Hey,” Toby said, joining Mr. Joseph on the porch. “Someone threw a rock through our window.”

  “I’m sorry to hear. I hope nobody was hurt?”

  “No. Appa
rently there was a note, but my parents won’t tell me what it said. Typical.”

  “Hmmm,” Mr. Joseph said.

  “Look,” Toby said, finding it difficult to see Mr. Joseph in the darkness. “I’m sorry about lying to you. It’s just, well, I thought my parents were being unfair, and I didn’t like being told who I could and couldn’t see. But, I shouldn’t have lied.”

  “I appreciate you coming over and apologizing. I was worried when you ran off like that, so was your mom. We had another chat after you left, and we agreed that, for the moment, maybe it’s best you don’t come around anymore.”

  “What? Are you serious?”

  “Yes. Your mother doesn’t want you spending time at my place, and whether or not I agree with her is beside the point. I need to obey your parents’ wishes, and you should too.”

  Disappointed, Toby said, “Okay, whatever.”

  “I don’t like the situation any more than you do, but that’s the way I feel. Please respect that.”

  “Sure,” Toby said.

  “Good. Now, you’d best get back, Toby. Goodnight.”

  “I guess I’ll see you around, then?”

  “I guess,” Mr. Joseph said, and then he walked inside and closed the door.

  Toby sauntered back home, head down.

  His parents were in the kitchen, sitting at the table, both clutching glasses of whiskey. “You’ll be happy to know that Mr. Joseph thinks it’s best if I no longer come over. You guys got what you wanted.”

  “Toby...” his mom said. “Sit down, let’s talk.”

  “Not until you tell me what was in that letter.”

  “I will, if you tell me why I got an angry phone call tonight from Mrs. Mayfour, accusing you of abusing Deb.”

  “I didn’t abuse her,” Toby huffed. “I called her a slut, that’s all.”

  His dad hiccupped, though it sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

  “Toby, I’m ashamed of you. Why would you say such a thing?”

  “Because it’s true. She’s the one who spread the gossip about me and Mr. Joseph around town. This is all her fault.”

  The fire in his mom’s eyes faded. “Oh. Still, you shouldn’t have called her that. I want you to call Mrs. Mayfour tomorrow and apologize.”

  “Okay,” Toby sighed. “So what was in the letter?”

  His mom sipped some whiskey. “Are you sure you don’t want to have a seat?”

  “I’m fine standing.”

  His mom took a deep, shaky breath. “Well it wasn’t a note as such, just a piece of paper stuck to the rock. It said... watch your back, nigger lover.” His mom took another sip.

  “You don’t have any idea who may have done this?” his dad asked.

  Toby gritted his teeth. “No,” he said, then turned to leave.

  “Toby.”

  He glanced over his shoulder.

  “This is the right thing to do,” his mom said. “One day you’ll understand that we’re only doing this to look out for you. Because we love you.”

  Toby shifted his gaze from his mom, to his dad. They looked like strangers under the harsh glow of the kitchen light. Without a word, he turned and headed upstairs.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  For the next couple of days, Toby did as everyone wanted and stayed away from Mr. Joseph. And, like always, Mr. Joseph stayed mostly out of sight; it was like he didn’t exist.

  The cops never found out who threw the rock and left the note. Even though Toby was certain he knew who was behind it, he didn’t say anything. After all, he hadn’t been home at the time, so he had no proof it was Dwayne. So, like the graffiti, it looked like Dwayne was going to get away with it.

  But he won’t get away with it forever, Toby found himself thinking. No, he’ll get his. One of these days, somehow, he’ll get his.

  Gloria called once, briefly, to see how he was doing, and to tell him that she was sorry about what happened the other night at her house. She told him she missed him, but that it didn’t look like her parents were going to change their minds about their relationship anytime soon (despite Toby calling and apologizing to Mrs. Mayfour about his behavior). The call added to his already gloomy disposition, but it was still good to hear Gloria’s voice.

  The pranks and the teasing started to ease—he still got the occasional strange look and chicken squawk directed at him, but otherwise, it seemed people were starting to get bored with the whole thing. Maybe his mom was right, after all. Maybe staying away had been for the best. Maybe he could even start going around and seeing Mr. Joseph again.

  But then, three days after the rock was hurled through his window, as he was heading to Barb’s to buy some groceries for his mom, Toby happened a glance at Mr. Joseph’s. He stopped. Frowned.

  “Now that’s weird,” he muttered.

  Standing on the sidewalk opposite Mr. Joseph’s, looking down the side of his house, Toby could see a small section of the backyard, including some of the shed. Toby knew Mr. Joseph always kept his shed locked; but the doors were presently hanging askew.

  Toby crossed the street. He didn’t care that he was supposed to stay away. He knew something was wrong, he had to check it out.

  Toby hurried down the side of the house, and when he reached the backyard, stepped over to the shed.

  He stopped by the open door. A stench like a public toilet wafted out. Nervously, he gazed in. “Oh Jesus.”

  The items that had sat on the altar now littered the floor, most of them smashed. The wooden cross itself lay broken. The strange, though strangely beautiful paintings that adorned the walls were now defiled by spray paint—COXSUCKING NIGGA CHILD MOLESTA was written on all three walls. And the wooden center-post was split in half, its top portion lying on the ground, over a smeared flour-drawn vèvè.

  Toby turned away from the ruined hounfor and headed for the back door. He knocked, got no answer, tried the knob and found the door unlocked. He pushed it open and stepped inside. Except for an empty bottle of white rum sitting on the table, the kitchen was empty. “Mr. Joseph? It’s Toby.”

  “In here,” came the faint reply.

  Toby followed the direction of Mr. Joseph’s voice, through the family room, down the hall, and into the front room.

  Mr. Joseph was hunched over a single bed. He was delicately folding clothes into an open suitcase.

  “What are you doing?” Toby said.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” Mr. Joseph said. He sounded tired, weak—old.

  “Screw that. What are you doing?”

  “It’s time to go,” the old man answered without turning around.

  “Go? What do you mean? You’re leaving?”

  “Yes.”

  Done folding the clothes, Mr. Joseph faced Toby. The old man had told Toby he couldn’t grow older, but standing there in the small, almost vacant room, Mr. Joseph looked at least ten years older. “I take it you saw my hounfor?”

  Toby nodded. “I’m sorry.”

  Mr. Joseph’s mouth twitched. “I was lying in here, resting on the bed, when I heard a noise outside. By the time I made it to the shed, the vandals had gone, though I did hear a car speeding off.” He shook his head.

  “But... but you can’t leave. You haven’t finished your story. I want to hear the rest of it.”

  “Oh Monsieur Fairchild. There’s not much more to tell. I’ve told you what you needed to hear; the rest isn’t that interesting. I bribed my way onto a ship and stowed away to America. The next ninety years after that followed basically the same pattern—working at menial farm or cleaning jobs, renting houses or apartments until it was time to move onto the next place. I only came here because I noticed, on the bus ride to somewhere else, that a nearby farm needed a farmhand. So I rented a house in town, the cheapest one I could afford, and I’ve been here ever since. I worked at the farm for over ten years, and then when the owner died, Mrs. Stein was kind enough to give me a part-time job at her store. The end.”

  “Where will you go?”

&nbs
p; Mr. Joseph paused. “I don’t know. But it’s getting too dangerous here. You already know about me, and with everything that’s been going on, it won’t be long before someone else finds out. I have to leave Belford. Like I said, it’s time to go.” Mr. Joseph shuffled over to the open cupboard and took down some more shirts.

  Toby swallowed. He felt betrayed yet again. “Were you even going to say goodbye?”

  Mr. Joseph paused, shirts cradled in his arms. “Truthfully? No. I thought it would be easier that way. I was going to leave you a note.” He dropped the shirts into the suitcase. “Cowardly of me, I know. You deserve better than that.”

  “When are you going?”

  “Tonight. I’ve settled all my affairs. There’s nothing left for me here. But I want to wait for the cover of darkness. I’ve always felt safer at night.”

  Toby didn’t know what else to say.

  “You had better go, Toby.”

  Toby nodded, was out the bedroom door, when Mr. Joseph said, “Toby, wait.”

  Toby turned around.

  Mr. Joseph closed his eyes. Kept them closed for a long time. Finally, he opened them. “I know I shouldn’t be asking you this, but... can you come around tonight, after your parents are asleep?”

  Toby frowned. “Um, yeah, why?”

  “There are some things I need to tell you. Important things. I was going to write them in the letter, but... well, they’re too important for that. Can you meet me in the shed at, say, one o’clock? Could you do that for me? I don’t like encouraging you to disobey your parents, but I have to this once. You know I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think it was important.”

  “I’ll be here,” Toby said.

  “Good,” said Mr. Joseph. “Good.”

  It was nearing one o’clock in the morning.

  Nerves danced around in Toby’s gut. What did Mr. Joseph have to tell him? What was so important that he would ask Toby to not only deliberately go against his parents’ wishes of not seeing him, but to meet in the dead of night?

  When the numbers on the digital clock clicked over to 12:55, Toby hopped out of bed.

  Though his parents had gone to bed over an hour ago, Toby maintained stealth as he slipped on his T-shirt and shorts and crept downstairs.