Saving Toby (26 page)

39.
Toby

The week following the funeral, I made myself go back to my
job at the appliance store. It wasn’t like I was anxious to get back to work,
but I felt like I owed that much to Abe. The old guy had really come through
for me.

I kept moving, going through the necessary motions. I got
up, went to work, did my job, and when it was time to go home, I left.

“If there’s anything I can do, just call,” the funeral folks
said, one by one, as they left that day. I would never ask for their help, and,
as expected, they had all faded back into their mediocre, Stepford lives
leaving me alone. Each night, coming home to an empty house was a blatant
reminder that Julia was gone, and I was on my own.

One evening after work, I stopped at the Beverage Barn on
Railroad Avenue to get a case of Blue Point Ale. My only plan for the night was
to play my guitar and drink beer, but when I pulled up to the driveway that
evening, Claudia’s car was in front of the house.

Claudia was neither in her car nor in the house. I pulled
out a bottle of beer and stashed the remainder of the case in the fridge. I saw
her then, through the charred remains of the kitchen window. She was in Julia’s
garden—the project that had started it all. On her hands and knees, she was
pulling weeds. Her dark hair was twisted in a tight ponytail.

My fingers twitched. I wanted to go over, set her hair free
and watch it fall about her face. I wanted to trace the freckles that ran
across the bridge of her nose. I wanted her to rise up on her toes to kiss me.

Just as it had been back in school so long ago, she was out
of my reach. Once again, unattainable. I would never have her again. Emptiness
washed over me.

I had tried to explain away my behavior, tried to pull her
back to me, but the fallout was too much. She’d gotten a good look at the guy
I’d camouflaged over the last few months, and she’d made it clear that loser
wasn’t for her.

Glued to my spot, I watched her like a voyeur, absorbing the
sight of her like a junkie. She was my drug, and I was already starting to
shake from withdrawal. I debated with myself about whether or not I should go
out to her. Knowing her, after the way we left things last week, her conscience
was probably bothering her, and I was sure her visit was a mission to make it
right.

I could’ve left. She would never even know I’d been home,
but like an addict, I needed to get closer. I needed a fix.

I moved through the back door and, without her noticing,
stood silently nearby. She was absorbed in her work, oblivious to everything
but what she was doing. I watched her for a few moments remembering the day
we’d started the garden and how cute her dirt-smudged face was when she
realized I was checking her out.

“What’s the matter, not enough weeds in your own yard to
keep you busy?”

The spade in her hand jerked in surprise.

“Oh, hey.” She stopped and glanced up. The motion revealed
the bruise on her opposite cheek. It seemed to have grown in size, seeping from
under her eye to the corner of her lip. Seeing it again, I felt both angry and
devastated that I’d had a hand in letting it happen. But it was her look of
uncertainty that slammed me. “I was waiting for you and well … I just
figured...”

I had to look away from her face, so I eyed the flowerbed
instead. All of the plants were shriveled. Some were dead.

“I let it go. I didn’t keep it up.”

“You’ve had other things to worry about.” Claudia surveyed
the garden, then looked back at me. “But it’s not completely gone. With a
little bit of attention and some care, it can be fixed.”

I popped the top off my beer. “Are you talking about the
garden? 'Cause it kind of sounds like you might be talking about me.”

A tight smile flitted across her lips before she turned her
attention back to the flowers.

I settled down at the top of the deck steps with my beer and
watched her. Didn’t she know that when you broke up with someone, you were
supposed to stay away from him? It would be easier if she stayed away—at least
easier for me. She seemed unaffected, indifferent, while I was destroyed.

I didn’t offer to help as she finished weeding. After a
time, she stood and went to the side of the house, reappearing again with the
hose and sprinkler. She moved about with a comfortable knowledge of the yard
that depressed me. I’d blown the best thing I’d ever had—blown it big time. My
head felt heavy, and unable to look at her anymore, I let it drop onto my
forearms.

I hadn’t heard her come up to me, but suddenly she was
sitting down next to me. I took a sip of my beer and looked out into the yard.
She reached out and put her hand around the bottle. I don’t know why, but I let
her take it from me. Putting it on the other side of her, she eyed the
cigarette pack in my shirt pocket.

“I hate that you’re smoking again.”

“What’s it to you?” I didn’t even attempt to hide my
annoyance.

“But you quit.”

“Yeah, well, I’m back to doing a lot of shit I stopped
doing.” When she sighed, the flames continued to rise. “Why are you here? What
do you want?”

“I wanted to tell you I’m sorry for yelling at you the other
day. And for hitting you, too. You’ve been through a lot. It was …” she
faltered. “It was wrong. I don’t usually go around hitting people. Even when
I’m angry.”

I had understood her anger and her need to hit me, but
wondering where this was going, I kept quiet.

“And,” she continued, “I understand what you’re going
through. I can’t compare my situation to yours, but I know what it’s like to
lose someone.”

“If you think losing a grandparent compares to what I’ve
gone through, you are seriously mistaken,” I snorted. “You couldn’t possibly
know anything about what it’s like to be me. My whole family is wiped out.”

“Your brother…”

“As far as I’m concerned, I don’t have a brother.”

She hesitated, obviously picking her words carefully before
continuing. “Um, well, it’s true, my experiences with death probably don’t
compare in your eyes, but it’s the pain of losing someone that I empathize
with,” she said quietly. “And, though it’s not death, my parents’ divorce was
like losing someone, too. What makes a difference is that I had someone to talk
to. I had someone to lean on.”

“I thought you were my someone. My bad.”

I saw the quick intake of breath and knew my words hurt her,
but I didn’t care.

“I really wish I could be your support and make you happy
again,” she choked.

I grabbed her hand. Pressing it against my chest, I looked
into her eyes. “Claude, you can make me happy.”

She bowed her head. “I can’t make you happy—that’s too much
to ask of me. It’s too much to ask of anyone.”

I dropped her hand. I wasn’t even angry with her, just
annoyed that I’d even gone there, opening myself up to the pain.

“You’re right.” Frustrated, I stood up and grabbed my beer
from next to her. “Well, thanks for coming by.”

I went in the house hoping she would leave, but she followed
me inside.

“You…” She stopped mid-sentence as she caught sight of the
fire-damaged kitchen. “Oh.” She covered her mouth.

I’d forgotten she hadn’t been in the house since the fire. I
hadn’t fixed anything. The flames had eaten through the interior wall and
surfaces of the back part of the kitchen. I saw it now for the first time
through someone else’s eyes—the blackened stovetop, dull and sooty, the burned
back wallboard up over the sink and around the window. The ceiling was scorched
like a Rorschach test, an uneven inkblot fanning out overhead and the once
yellow, checkered curtain that Julia had hung over the window, now an uneven
curl of melted fibers. The harsh smell of fire lingered.

The burn of embarrassment crept up my neck. I couldn’t look
at it. And I didn’t want to witness Claudia’s expression as she looked at it
either. I went into the living room, away from the reminder of the spectacular
feat I’d performed that day.

I dropped down on the couch and picked up the television
remote. Claudia continued to follow me saying nothing about the kitchen.

She pulled out a folded paper from her back pocket and held
it out to me. “My father gave me the name of a counselor. He comes highly
recommended.”

“So that’s the real reason you’re here.”

“You need to talk to someone.” Her jaw was set in
determination.

I ignored the paper in her hand. “Claude, just stop. I don’t
believe in all that emotional, psychobabble shit,” I told her.

Sitting down on the coffee table in front of me, she ran her
hand over the smooth surface absentmindedly before looking into my eyes.

“Counseling can help you come to terms with your mother’s
death. It will help you sort out the guilt you seem to have. And the anger.
Despite how you feel about it, you should do it,” she whispered softly and
touched the back of my hand. “It will help you put your life back together.”

I stared down at my worn work boots. “What life?”

“Toby, look at me,” she said.

My heart punched against my chest. Her face was soft and
full of emotion, and it weakened me. I closed my eyes and concentrated on her
fingers touching my hand.

I had to ask. “If I go, will that change anything for us?”

She took a deep breath but remained quiet.

“Jesus, Claude. Can’t you lie to me, just once?”

“I won’t lie to you. After what’s happened, I really don’t
see it changing anything for us,” she said. “But I still care for you. I want
to help you get back on your feet.”

I pulled my hand away and ran it through my hair. “I’ll
think about it,” I said, without conviction.

She stood. “I should go.”

“No, don’t.” I grabbed her hand and kept her from moving
away. As much as it hurt to have her there, it was worse for her to leave, to
be alone. “Stay for a little longer. Please.”

She closed her eyes and sighed. “Will you let me make you an
appointment?”

“Sure,” I shrugged, only agreeing to keep her with me. She
made the appointment, but she must have known I never intended to go.

40.
Claudia

I sent most of my stuff on ahead to the campus, which only
left two large suitcases for Dad to load in the car. I was nervous about
leaving. Though I’d done everything I needed to do, I still felt things were
unfinished here, but I was out of time. I had to be on campus in a week, and I
had promised my mom that I’d spend my last available week with her.

I checked my bedroom over one last time. This room, in this
house, was the only place I’d ever lived in. Even though I was ready to go, I
knew I would miss it. Dad came up behind me and hugged my shoulders with one
arm.

“Did you ever think this day would come?” he asked.

“I prayed for this day, and now that it’s here, I’m sad.” I
turned and gave my dad a tremulous smile. “Daddy, I’m sorry I’ve been so
impossible the past few months.”

“Baby, you grew up a lot in those months, and you’ve stuck
your neck out for what you believe in,” he replied. “And now my little bird is
leaving the nest.”

My stomach rolled with nerves. He must have seen it on my
face.

“You alright?” he asked.

Despite the nerves, I smiled and nodded. “Yeah, I got this.”

I glanced around the house once more. I wouldn’t be back for
months if I even came back for the holidays. Dad and I were still trying to
figure all that out.

“Christmas in California is nice, and if you came, it’d be
the first time in years that I’d be able to share it with
both
of my
parents,” I’d said.

“I’ll think about it,” Dad had replied.

That was more than I’d expected.

Dario and April had seen me off the night before, but I’d
not spoken to Toby since my visit to his house. Dario had told me he’d had a
preliminary meeting with the D.A. on Devlin’s case.

This morning, I sent a text to let him know I was leaving
and that I hoped everything had went well. He hadn’t responded, so I wasn’t totally
surprised to step outside and see the red Jeep at the curb. Toby was leaning
against Dad’s car with his arms crossed, wearing a pair of mirrored sunglasses.
Dad said he’d forgotten something and disappeared back inside the house.

“I’m glad you came by,” I said as I made my way over to him.
“I’m anxious to know how you made out with the lawyer.”

He removed his sunglasses. “They set a date for the trial.
I’ll have to testify, but I haven’t been charged with anything.”

I exhaled. “What a relief.”

Toby nodded his agreement and then motioned towards my
suitcases next to Dad’s car.

“So, this is the big day?”

“Yep, the big day.” The bare exchange left an awkward
silence between us. Uncertain what to say next, I blurted out, “I’m sorry.”

“Jesus, don’t do that. I didn’t come for an apology.” He
looked over my shoulder, his stance becoming rigid. “I just wanted to say
goodbye.”

I almost apologized for apologizing, but caught myself.
Instead, I reminded him, “Don’t forget your appointment with the counselor next
week.”

“I’m not going.”

“Toby, we went over this. You have to go! You need to talk
to someone.”

“Stop it, Claudia. You’re leaving. You don’t get a say in
what I do any more.”

He was pushing me away. I supposed it was inevitable, and he
had every right to, but I didn’t like it.

“I didn’t mean to come on so forceful,” I atoned. “I just
worry about you.”

“You don’t need to worry about me. I made other plans.”

I wrapped my arms around my midriff. “What other plans?”

“I joined the Marines.”

“You enlisted?” The words came out rushed, critical.

He shrugged. “Yeah. Nothing stopping me anymore.”

I hadn’t seen this coming. I bit my bottom lip, quelling the
need to say more.

“I should go,” he said.

The finality of the moment, and of us, filled me with
growing trepidation.

I met his eyes. “You’ll stay in touch?”

He looked away.

“No. I probably won’t.”

“No?” I hadn’t expected a complete severance.

With a forced smile, he patted my arm. “Go be great in
California. It’s what you really want.”

Before I could prepare for it, he gave me the briefest of
hugs, kissed my forehead, and left without looking back.

His departure was so immediate; I was stunned that he was
actually gone and that I was alone.

There are moments in life that stay with you. As he drove
away, I knew this was one of them. With vivid clarity, I would remember the day
Toby Faye walked into my life as much as the day he walked out of it.