Saving Toby (30 page)

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.

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.