Michael, Antoinette, and Me

 

Part Seven

   

 

Instrumental orchestra versions of Holiday classics – Jingle Bells, White Christmas, A Christmas Song, Holy Night, others – populated the dark background along with the occasional clanging of gates, sliding of doors, soft tapping of shoes on tile.

“I like the mall when it’s closing,” Pamala said. “I can take a bag or two.”

“They’re not heavy.”

“Do you always carry so much money? I couldn’t help but notice.”

“Eh, no. I picked up my pay.”

“For a month?”

“A week.”

She stopped, wide eyes watching mine. “Why did you, I mean, work the day at Harvest?”

“Your father needed someone?”

“How do you even know my father?”

Given the circumstances, I didn’t wish to say. “I was working an event.”

We approached four people, all laughing freely at something we didn’t hear. Bill Locke, looking smart in a dark suit as usual, occupied Santa’s throne, Santa standing to his left, Santa stripped of his coat, his ample body contained by his red thermal shirt, black suspenders, Bob Edwards to Locke’s right, foot on the throne, removing the foot as we approached.

An attractive young man – mid-twenties – black leotard, green shirt, green boots, Robin Hood hat, complexion set perfect with makeup, dazzling blue-green eye shadow, too-red circles of rouge on the cheeks, wonderful dark lashes sat on Locke’s left knee, an arm resting on Locke’s shoulder.

As if a product advertisement, they each had a Ballentine beer bottle.

“Pamala! Toby!” Santa Claus greeted, keeping in character, which made me think he was the real Santa Claus.

“Mr. Claus, Mr. Edwards, Mr. Locke,” I greeted, adding, “Miss Elf? Absolutely love how you’ve done your makeup.”

She shared a wonderful giggle. “You should try it.”

“Oh, come on, Randi,” Mr. Locke said. “Toby’s face is perfect.”

“So not the point, Bill.”

I rolled my eyes. “Anyway, Mr. Edwards.”

“Call me Ed.”

“She cannot, Ed,” Santa cut in.

“Anyway, Mr. Edwards. I’ve got this thing at Mr. Locke’s estate on the thirty-first. I was hoping to take Pamala along.”

Edwards furrowed his brow, looking at this daughter. “Why didn’t you tell me this when you asked?”

“I didn’t know.”

“Of course, Toby.”

Locke laughed. “I’d think, given that it’s my party, you’d say no.”

“It’s Mary’s party.”

“Don’t cloud the issue with facts!” He looked at me. “Call Jack, get on his list. He’ll drive you.”

I turned to Pamala. “Pamala, would you do me the honor of attending this party with me?”

She bowed slightly. “It would be my honor.” She took a deep breath, turning to her father. “May I drop Toby home?”

“I can call a cab.”

“See? See?” Locke said. “Pam and I would wrestle for the privilege to take Toby home and she’s all,” he changed to a mocking tone, “Oh, I’ll call a cab.”

Edwards nodded. “Sure, Pam. Don’t be late. It’s a school night.”

“Mr. Claus?”

“Yes, Toby?”

“To all, a good night.”

 

I invited Pamala to try the Lazy Boy as I kindled a serious fire.

“This is nice. You live here alone?”

“I’ve got my wraiths.” I hovered.

“Huh?”

“Ghosts, memories, mind ghosts. May I join you?”

She squirmed uncomfortably. “Been a long day. I smell.”

“Everybody smells, Pamala. I happen to like the way you smell.”

“OK.”

Side by side on the Lazy Boy, I opened a large picture book. “See. Plenty of room. ‘Tis the night before Christmas ­–”

“I’ve heard this one.”

“Not read by me, you haven’t.”

As I read, Pamala turned, her hands wrapping up my upper arm, her head nuzzled on my shoulder. When Santa wished all a good night, she asked, “Did you know, somehow?”

“Know what?”

“Maria and I did this. A long time ago. Before her world crashed and burned.”

“I did not.”

“Thank you.”

I kissed her forehead not as a lover might, but as a mother would, or an older sister, a promise that everything would be OK even in the face of nothing being OK. Putting the book aside, I worked my arm around Pamala.

“That’s a beautiful tree.”

“My first, likely my last.”

“How’s that?”

“I’m not even sure I understand. I wanted to touch something real and true. I wanted something in my life that was normal. I had this illusion, like a wish. A soap bubble I could hold in my fingers, if only for a moment.”

“Like a wraith?”

“Yeah. A dream. Me playacting some kind of mom, with this guy some kind of dad. Doing the whole tree thing.”

“It’s a beautiful tree.”

“Something went wrong, and I don’t even know what. There were moments, like a falling star, there, then gone just that quickly.” I sighed.” Growing up, I was always The Little Match Girl.

“Who?”

“I felt I was always on the outside looking in. For example, one year my parents got a tree, got it halfway decorated, got in an argument whether beer was better than bourbon, my father getting mad, tossing the tree out on the front lawn where it stayed for two weeks. Every year was a version of that. Me, even in the room, looking in, not in the room.”

“Well, Toby, you got the tree up, didn’t throw it out on the lawn.”

“I think that was more Toni and Levy.”

“Toni is the girl you were with at the mall?”

“Yes.”

“She looks a lot like you. I was hoping she was your sister.”

“Why?”

“She then wouldn’t be your girlfriend.”

 

The wraith of Father Brown menaced like a warning, Brown weaponizing what I confessed. With Brown, I was attempting to justify myself, which was the error, leaving me vulnerable.

Somewhere between Pamala taking the knife from me to carve the turkey and French fries drowning in gravy, I wanted something real and true with Pamala. There, her cheek on my shoulder, she became my willing confessor. Though I left out the lurid details when I got to my gang rape, she sobbed quietly, holding me tight.

I lavished in the tale of Antoinette, confessing my love and my love affair. I did not tell the story of how I tried to recreate Antoinette in the fresh because I did not wish to betray Michael’s confidence.

“Colder,” Pamala said at the car. “At least it stopped raining.”

“Feels like snow. I like rain.”

“You said. Promise me one day we can go to sanctuary. You can dance naked for me. In the rain.”

“We can.”

She turned me, my back to the car, her hands at my waist inside my coat. “Friends that hug. Full body hug. I did notice you gave Diane a pyramid hug.”

“I take my serious hugs very seriously, my casual hugs, well, casually.”

“You’re wrong, you know. About Antoinette being a better version of you.”

“Careful now.”

She kissed me under the ear. “I often point out the flaws in Diane’s thinking about her god, too. You are flesh and blood. Antoinette is a wraith. A mind ghost is going to be perfect. If you were to make Antoinette flesh and blood, she’d fail you. Then maybe you’d have to throw her out on the lawn half decorated.”

“Wraiths don’t smell.”

“I like the way you smell, too. I really have to get home. Please, do me one favor.”

“OK.”

“Don’t make me a wraith that my flesh will fail you. I’m here now.”

“I thought you were going to ask me to kiss you.”

“That, Toby, is already presumptionated.”

Our lips met like a snowflake on an eyelash, not hungry, not rushed, not craving more, the moment full, rich, real, and true, complete with no past, no future.

 

Tex arrived promptly at 8 AM on an old bicycle, toolbelt laden, a huge backpack four times the size of mine. “Ma’am.” He tipped his cowboy hat.

Instinct screamed at me to turn down his offer, putting me alone in the house with him. He was my height, had only ten pounds on me. Him thinking I was just a girl gave me an advantage if he were to attack me.

“Mr. Locke said he’d be stopping by this morning,” I lied to him anyway.

“Nice guy, good tipper. For a rich guy, he listens when I talk. Even most the regular suit schmucks don’t see me or worse, talk down to me.”

 “You may start in my bedroom­ –”

“I figured as much.”

“Tex, don’t be an asshole.”

“Loud and clear, Toby. Loud and clear. Point the way. I was kidding anyway.”

“Upstairs, first door on the right. I’ve been raped, Tex,” I confessed. “I’ve been assaulted by my father, boys in school. It’s a giant leap of faith to even have you in the house.”

Halfway up the stairs, he turned, looking down on me with measured eyes. “Louder and clearer, Toby. Sorry. I didn’t know. If you ever –”

“If I ever wish revenge, I’ll leave them bleeding out on the floor. I won’t need your help.”

His dark eyes, cold. “You’re terrifying. I like it.”

 

I watched Tex work through the first window, confident hands. He told a tale, likely tall, of when he was a Texas Ranger, saving the Widow Jones from a band of outlaws. I enjoyed the story – and the telling. I didn’t care whether the story were true or not.

The telling – and the story – bought the pontifications of the good father to mind. The difference being my father spoke to an audience for the attention of the audience. I got the feeling Tex would have told the story if I were sitting on the bed or not.

Tex had his version of mind-ghosting.

“And that’s how sash ropes are replaced,” he announced proudly. “A bit of scraping, some caulking, the window will be ready to paint.”

“You have good hands. I don’t know why you’re frying eggs.”

“I like frying eggs. Besides, among the suit schmucks, I get to meet some really cool people. Doing work like this, there’s way too many assholes who think the work’s never good enough just to get out of paying a man his due wage.”

“I am not a big fan of people.”

“I hear that, sister.”

 

Clinically, after coffee and hot dogs for lunch, Tex change my wrist bandage and looked at my foot, shaking his head. “I should take a needle and thread to this.” He wrapped my foot tight.

Without telling him he smelled terrible, I suggested he could use the washer in the basement. “Guess they don’t have a washer at the track.”

“Track’s closed for the season.”

I didn’t want to ask where he was living.

 

Midafternoon, Tex wrapped up. “Don’t want to overdue a good thing.”

I quit my wall washing, walking him to the door, handing over a fold of bills. “Tomorrow, then.”

“Same time, same place.” He eyed the money. “Toby, math isn’t your best subject, is it?”

I shrugged. “Something about a due wage.”

He nodded, curling his lower lip on his teeth. “Toby.”

“Tex.”

The door stood open, cold air rushing across me. I was happy no one yelled to shut the door. I held his eyes, sad eyes, angry eyes.

“I was arrested once. I was twelve.”

He paused.

“Throwing rocks at cows.”

“Throwing rocks at cows?”

“Well, they were little rocks, big cows.”

“Still, why would you throw rocks at cows?”

“I was twelve,” he explained.

“Of the eight of us, I was the only one arrested because I was the slowest runner. We were friends, or so I thought. If they’d come forward, but no. The cops wanted me to name them. We were friends. I refused. They put me in lockup overnight.”

Tex hadn’t blinked, his eyes tethered mine.

“They tag teamed me, beating me, raping me all night. When Dad came to get me, he said I got what I had coming, that I should shut up and take the lesson.”

He let out a long sigh. “So, Toby. You may not wish revenge, but I’m not done. Just point me in the right direction.”

I started breathing. “I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s not for you to say, Toby. Just for you to know. When I say, I understand, I do.”

 

Haunted by the elf, I enjoyed an hour and a half with a light foundation, setting powder, black mascara, rich sable eye shadow, and subtle rouge. I was not disappointed.

Deboning the boiled whole chicken on my way to chicken soup, trying not to burn my fingers, the doorbell summoned me. My makeup overdone, hair sloppy on top my head, gray sweatshirt, blue jeans, bare feet, working my greasy hands on a towel, I flung the door open, inviting Toni and Levy in.

“My god, girl. Love what you’ve done with the face!” Toni said, moving in for a hug.

“Greasy,” I answered. “Yeah, huh? Elfin magic.”

“Looks really good,” Levy said.

“Kitchen, close the door.”

Back to the chicken, Toni and Levy at the table, I said, “You’re in for what I think is going to be a treat.”

“Oh, we’re not staying,” Levy said.

“Levy’s taking me to a famous restaurant in Philly.”

“Do tell.”

“Michelangelo’s. I bet you never heard of it.”

“I’ve seen ads in the paper. Speaking of famous restaurants.” I turned from my chicken, looking at Toni. “Harvest Chateau in the mall. The 24^th. Noon to maybe seven. If Mr. Edwards likes your work, he’ll have a permanent job for you.”

“No can do.”

I was beyond shocked. “What?”

“We have the whole day planned, me and Levy.”

“It’s a family thing,” Levy added.

I mounted a retort, lofty in nature, maybe something about goals, responsibilities, opportunities. I shrugged instead. “Well, I guess if you no can do.” I turned back to the chicken.

My sarcasm was lost like a dim star behind encroaching clouds.

“I’m glad you understand,” she said.

“Toni told me about the secret, that thing you helped her with.”

I snapped my head around. “Really? And you’re OK with that?”

“I understand a girl needs to feel good about herself. If a little stuffing helps, I don’t see a problem.”

I blinked, hard, twice, returning to the chicken.

“After all,” he added, “You stuff.”

I may have shouted this is all me, asshole, but like with Jim the rapist, I didn’t particularly care what Levy thought of my breasts.

My chicken soup was great, which I enjoyed watching the butterfly in the mirror.

 

The house shook occasionally, nudged by the wind as I soaked in the tub. I wanted to have a serious conversation with Toni. The way Levy looked at Toni melted my bones. I looked at Antoinette, my wraith, my better self, that way. Other than the flesh and blood thing, Toni was no more real to Levy than Antoinette was to me.

The house, my house, was no more mine than Toni was real, yet I bled onto the floor, giving everything into something I knew I could not keep. I knew someday I would have to leave, the house taken away.

Understanding that is why I didn’t have a conversation with Toni.

Urgent thuds resounded from downstairs. Soaked, I wrestled into my new pale red terry robe, hurrying to the door. The wind hit me.

Bill Locke, perfect dark blue pinstripe suit, no overcoat, gave me a nod. “Toby.”

Mike Borrows, knit blue cap, blue jeans, blue flannel shirt, pea coat much like my old coat, leaned around the larger man. “Hi, Toby.”

“Get some clothes on. Old clothes. Be quick around it. Do you have a shovel?”

“Eh, OK. In the garage.”

 

I watched the windshield, Mr. Locke driving, Mr. Borrows on my right. “How are you finding the house?” Mr. Borrows asked absently.

“Seems I may have a talent for cooking, at least I haven’t killed anyone – yet. Every time I go into the attic and basement, I want to just close and lock the doors. I need to get the roof looked at. I’ve got all the wallpaper off, cleaning the walls now, ordered the paint.”

“I saw the check.”

“You what?”

“I must oversee all the finances.”

“It’s his job,” Mr. Locke interjected. “He’s not just being nosey. We’re not worried about you stealing anything, if you get that impression.”

 “I guess I should let you know what I paid Mort, then.”

“Your note in the cash envelop is enough.”

“Speaking of finances.” I glanced at Mr. Locke. “I understand my checking is a joint account.”

“It is.”

“How come your name’s not on the checks?”

“We want you to have a sense of independence.”

“Like you’re not looking over my shoulder in everything I do?”

“It is Bill’s house.”

“Oh, I fully understand that. I’m not complaining, or anything. Just curious.”

“Curiosity killed the cat,” Mr. Borrows said.

“Satisfaction brought her back,” I retorted. “Thus, the nine lives.”

“Anyway.” Mr. Borrows’ arm extended behind me across the back of the bench seat, not on me. “I heard you’re coming to the party.”

“New Years, yes.”

“Oh, what are you wearing?”

“I think I’ll let it be a surprise. What are you wearing?”

“Unfortunately, a traditional tux, so not like yours.”

“You are, I mean, Michelle is beautiful.”

“Yes, she is, Toby.” Mr. Locke hesitated. “Do you have the photo?”

Mr. Borrows squirmed around. “Always.” He produced a black and white picture from his wallet.

“Light?” I asked.

The compartment light came on.

“Oh my god. She’s beautiful.” I glanced Mr. Locke. “You?”

“Billie,” Mr. Borrows said. “Like Billie Holiday. She was a ­–”

“I know who Billie Holiday was.”

Mr. Borrows chuckled. “Oh, Billie was a looker.”

“I was.” Dramatically, Mr. Locke said, “No angel crafted by God, no words of pope or poet etched on parchment, no magic of sham or shaman, no conjuring or conjecture of Man, could ever draw simile or metaphor, paint or sculpt, to mark the twain, to take the measure of what time and flesh has stolen.”

“My god, Mr. Locke. That is so tragically beautiful. Is that a poem or something?”

“I made it up one night long ago when I was looking in the mirror.”

“That’s why you, eh, dressed like you did at the party?”

“I enjoy watching others enjoy themselves. The party is a safe place for people to express who they really are. Something I never had.”

“I didn’t see Miss Locke.”

“Mary? Oh, she doesn’t approve.”

Mr. Borrows chuckled. “Disapproves, more like.”

“She runs a good party, though.”

The truck slowed on the highway, Mr. Locke guiding our way among the pines, the Ford pickup rocking and swaying like a Conestoga wagon on barely a trail. “I think that’s far enough.” The engine sputtered into silence, the headlight cutting into the darkness ahead.

“I think that was far enough half mile ago,” Mr. Borrows said.

“It’s a nice night for a drive in the woods.”

I followed Mr. Borrows out, the pines creaking above, dancing slowly in the wind, sand making my feet unsure. A shovel came to my hands.

“This way.”

In the cold, in the wind, I worked up a sweat digging, Mr. Locke in the truck watching, Mr. Borrows helping, mostly sitting telling childhood stories. “Bill was very popular in the home, being pretty like he was.”

Up to my hips in hole, I leaned on my shovel. “Did that, eh, bother him?”

“Oh, no, no, not at all. He enjoyed the attention. And the status. He had a lot of really good friends.”

“Of all those really good friends, how many are in his life now?” I applied the shovel, not requiring an answer.

Two hours disappeared like morning mist over a spring lawn, Mr. Locke extending a hand, pulling me from the hole. “That will do.”

“I thought it deep enough half hour ago.”

I backed into the trees, the two men struggling a large canvas bag into my hole. Less time was needed to erase what I’d done, me finishing with a rake over as if we’d never been.

On the way back, we stopped at the Red Eagle Diner on the highway. The men had breakfast, I had a cheeseburger and fries, requesting the fries in a bowl of beef gravy. My order was met with stoicism by Mr. Locke and Mr. Borrows, surprise by the server who reminded me more of my mother than of Sally.

“Are you sure, young lady?” she asked more as a scold than a query.

“Is a red eagle even a thing?” I asked back getting a well, I never face.

 

I was back in my bathtub, hot water topped with bubbles, listening to the wind singing in the trees before I realized Pamala was on my mind more than Antoinette.

I happened to like French fries bathing in beef gravy.

 

I was tempted to send Tex away. “I’ve been up all night,” I told him as he dropped his backpack in the foyer. “Help yourself to anything in the kitchen. Get some breakfast. Wash the rest of your clothes if you want while you’re doing the windows. Feel free to take a shower. Don’t, ever, run around my house naked.”

“When did you know?”

“That you’re homeless? Yesterday. Can you plaster?”

“Not as good as the guy who did the downstairs, but not too bad.”

“I’m so tired, I can’t even see straight. I’m off to bed. Do your work, don’t worry about making noise. I know from experience it won’t wake me.”

“Thank you.”

After wedging a chair against the bedroom door, I fell on the bed fast asleep.

 

The wind rose and fell, her crow black hair dancing like she was under water. Dark eyes lost in shadow, apple red lips demanding attention. “Hello, Toby.”

“Come in, come in, Jessica. Your coat.”

With a glance behind her, she stepped up, peeling her coat from her shoulders. “Slipped my collar. Difficult couple of weeks. I can’t stay long.”

Hanging her coat, we retreated to the living room and the fire, dropping to the floor facing each other. I wanted to hug her but didn’t offer. I had boundary problems, which could have been because she was the only human being occupying object reality I’d had sex with that wasn’t rape.

“I’m glad you did.”

“I kind of gushed before.”

“I’m OK with your gushing.”

“Well, it’s not that, I mean, the linen closet –”

“I remember. I already said. I’m cool with all that. Maybe a little too cool with all that.”

She watched her hands, picked her nails, then found my eyes. “I pulled your employment file.”

“I’ve recently learned that nothing is confidential.”

“Well, it should be. I mean, the employment files are. Technically, as management –”

“I wanted to ask you. As a chef, now I learn as management, what the fuck were you doing busing the party?”

Her expression was that of someone who’d just popped a peppercorn between her molars, looking toward the fire. “No penis.”

“It seems to me, that’s the wellspring of all your difficulties. Personally, I find that your most endearing quality.”

She chuckled bitterly. “Right there. Right there.”

“What is?”

“Not only what you say, but how you say it. I have no idea how old you are, which is why I pulled your file. You could be twelve, you could be twenty-eight, a well-papered college graduate.”

I shrugged. “Seems to me, we can be anything we wish to be. You in love with Jake, for example.”

“I’m not in love with Jake.”

“Did you tell him that?”

“Well, no –”

“Then in his reality, you are.”

“He’s got a strange idea of love.”

“Don’t we all.”

She rolled her eyes. “He thinks I’m having an affair.”

“With someone other than me?”

“Huh? Toby, we’re hardly having an affair.”

“You had your finger inside me. I’d call that an affair.”

“I did not!”

“Well, you kind of did have your finger inside me. Honestly, I rather have my back jammed up against shelves, pushing all the towels onto the floor right now than trying to sort all this out.”

“I can’t stay long –”

“That, Jessica, wasn’t a request. As much as I’d love for you to push my door in, jam me against the wall and jerk me off, it’s not going to happen.”

Jessica nodded. “You want dinner first.”

“Flowers would be nice.”

“You don’t seem like a flower kind of girl.”

“I’m not.” I stood, pulling Jessica to her feet. “Let me get my bag. You can drop me at the mall.”

We hugged, not in want or lust. We hugged in dawning friendship, almost kinship, understanding.

“Does mess up my lipstick,” she warned.

“Not today.”

Our lips touched like a kitten’s paw on her first inch of snow.

 

The green MG rolled to a stop at the mall entrance. “What’d it tell you?” I asked.

“What, what?”

“My file.”

“Name, address, social security number.”

“I wasn’t actually working for you guys.”

“You should, come work for me.”

“In Philly? I bet the benefits would be great.”

She rolled her eyes.

“I’m fifteen.”

“Fifteen what?”

“As in years old.”

She looked at me as if seeing me for the first time. “How’d you ever –”

“I pulled a torn out of a lion’s paw. Since that moment, my life has been completely different.”

 

I rolled my eyes, Keira almost frantically waving from twenty feet away, the feeling I was repeating the same day as I took my pay envelope, heavy again. Displaying the packet, I said, “Because I’m a good girl.”

“There was that over and above the other night.”

I shrugged too casually. “I don’t know whether you’ll understand this, Miss Locke. It had nothing to do with money or reward. It was about me doing for someone who’d done so much for me.”

“I understand that perfectly. Mike said you didn’t ask any questions, not one.”

“It was pretty straightforward. Not like I needed instructions.”

“Who.”

“What?”

“We’d thought you’d at least ask who.”

I glanced behind me, a kid stinking of pot waiting for change, maybe a bit too close, a line forming. “I figured it was someone who needed some killing.”

Her eyes wouldn’t let mine go. She nodded stoically.

“What do you pay her?” I bobbed my chin, indicating the rollercoaster.

“Keira? Bill calls her Special Kay, I think just fucking with her. She shows up on time, good with the kids, haven’t caught her stealing anything, but she doesn’t handle any money, has not been invited to count the money and never will be.”

“Her pay?”

“Oh, two bucks an hour.”

“That’s all you really needed to say.”

 

“Keira,” I greeted.

“Hey, Toby. I’ve wanted to talk to you.”

“You have my number.”

“I didn’t feel comfortable. Robbie asked if I had it. I lied.”

“Thank you for that.”

I resisted arms-folded-over-my-chest, foot-tapping as Keira took kids off and put kids on the rollercoaster.

“You’re not a stoner.”

“I am not. I get a different kind of high.”

“Do tell,” Keira demanded with much too much excitement.

“Someday if you ever become the kind of friend who would help me bury a body.”

“Anyway, I got the serious hit off you that you don’t have friends.”

“I’m glad you didn’t drop many in there. I really don’t care much for people.”

“Anyway. Given that and all, you don’t know how things work in the fishpond.”

“People aren’t complicated. Sometimes I wish they were, but that’s just not the case.”

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about. Most people, normal people want to have friends.”

“I can see where having friends would be useful.”

“So not the point, Toby.”

“OK.”

She rolled her eyes. “To have friends, we need to be liked, be accepted into the group.”

I nodded impatiently, a deluge of articles in the popular magazines covering peer pressure ad nauseam. “OK, OK. I get it. If I want Robbie to like me, I need to like smoking pot.”

All emotion washed from her face, eyes cold, deadpan. “Or take part in a tradition, allow a group of, eh, boys do something you normally wouldn’t consider.”

I wanted to hold her tight until I lost track of where I ended and she began, her and I crying, our tears melding into a single stream, flowing until her pain was undiscernible from mine. I wanted to ask: Was it worth it? instead saying mournfully, “I understand.”

I have my own kink. I don’t judge. I still had dirt under my fingernails from burying a body. Dirt can be stubborn.

“So, you get that now? They were inviting you to join their group. It’s a compliment.”

Years before, sitting in Trinity Episcopal Church holding hands with Mrs. Martin, Father Sweet would lead the congregation in prayer, some prayers sounding like affirmations. I believe in God, the Father and so on. Sitting in their house, I wasn’t about to jump up, offering debate to their proclamations, their affirmations.

Keira, too, had her beliefs reinforced by affirmations. Boys will be boys. If not for Pamala on my mind – and Jessica – I may have waded into that fishpond and speared some fish. “Yeah, Keira, I get all that. I’m just not a joiner,” as proven with Father Brown.

“Toby!” assaulted me from behind. “Never thought I’d run into you here.”

“Hi, Robbie,” I answered with no emotion, glaring at Keira.

She shrugged.

“Want to play some silver ball?” He wore the same red plaid shirt, same faded blue jeans, the pack of Chesterfields bulging his shirt pocket, his soft brown hair flowing onto his shoulders.

“Eh, no.”

“‘Fraid I’ll beat you?”

“That’s exactly it.”

“How ‘bout dinner? Lots of places to eat –”

“Really, Robbie –”

“We can go outside. I have pot.”

“So not interested.”

“We’re going to go out. I’m not going to take no for an answer.”

I rolled my eyes so hard, I got a muscle spasm. “How very rapey of you.”

“What?”

“I have no intention or interest in doing anything with you. I have no idea how to make it any clearer.”

“What’s the problem? You a fag or something?”

“You’re certainly not giving me any reason to like guys.”

“Why I oughta –” The hand went back.

Looking up, Robbie a good head and a half over me, I calculated – palm to the nose, rabbit punch his lower sternum, my hands behind his neck pulling his face down hard onto the 24” high rollercoaster fence when a hand enclosed my shoulder.

“Howdy, kids,” Tex said, his eyes fixed on Robbie, Tex my height, looking up. “How’s it going?”

“Eh, fine.” Robbie disengaged not knowing what to make of the stranger.

Tex tipped his traditional gray Stetson. “Ma’am,” he said to Keira, gave a glare at Robbie, turned me toward the mall, saying, “We’re late.”

 

Out on the mall, I broke from Tex. “I told you I didn’t need your help.”

He chuckled. “Wasn’t about need, Toby. I could intimidate that asshole off his high horse, you’d had to bounce his face off the railing.”

“It’s a fence.”

“My point remains.”

“Thank you, then, I guess. But, really, I don’t need you to protect me.”

“Deal. Next time, I’ll find a comfortable seat and watch.”

We stood close, an island in the sea of holiday shoppers outside the Harvest Chateau near to where Toni and I stood. I exchanged a smile, wave, and blush with Pamala through the crowd.

“She’s beautiful.”

“Yeah, huh?”

“Girlfriend?”

“Could be. Anyway. What we talked about Wednesday.”

“Oh, sure. I can do the plaster work when I get the windows done. I won’t bother giving you a price seeing how you’re going to give me way more than I ask for.”

“Not what I was getting at, but OK. How about your job at the drug store?”

“I don’t really work there. The girls are supposed to do the cooking, too. They let me help out, throw some of their tips my way, let me eat all I want. What were you getting at?”

“Getting at?”

“About Wednesday.”

“Where are you living, I mean sleeping?”

“About a mile west of here, near the railroad tracks. I have like a small teepee. Okay, rags on sticks. Keeps the wind out.”

I let out a long sigh, making a difficult decision. “My garage. There’s a space heater in the basement. Keep your head down. You know how neighbors can be.”

 He closed his eyes. “That’s the most beautiful thing anyone’s ever offered me. I’d hug you, but I know you’re not a huggy person.”

“I can’t – the house.”

“That, I understand.”

“My privacy is essential.”

“OK.”

“I’ll turn the back patio light on when you can knock.”

“Light off, no knock.”

“The garage is not locked.”

 

The door on a crack, I let myself in. “Hi, Mr. Edwards.”

“Toby. What a pleasant surprise.” He rifled around his desktop. “I have that paperwork ­–”

“For Toni. She can’t make it. Family obligations, you know, with the holiday.

He held the form forward. “Have her fill it out, I’ll need to see her social security card. I’ll find something for her.”

“Mr. Edwards. You may not understand this, but I put my name on the line and asked for a favor from you. She said she really needs a job. I guess she doesn’t need a job that bad. You said this was her chance. She had it.”

“Not a good friend, huh?”

“I don’t have friends, Mr. Edwards. She let me down.”

“I do understand, Toby. When people show us who they are, we should believe them.”

I did a terrible ballet curtsy. “On the good news side, it’ll be my honor to serve you on Christmas Eve.”

“Don’t you have plans with your family? We’ll get by.”

“I do not.”

“You fill out the paperwork, then.”

“I’m sure Mr. Locke will cover it again, besides, I’m not looking for a job.”

He stood, excusing himself from the room, returning with Pamala. “Pam, why don’t you pack a couple dinners for you and Toby, and ­—”

“Dad likes to be presumptuous.”

“I see that.”

“Uh?”

“Pamala, would you please give me a ride home, maybe stay for dinner?”

 “I would be delighted, if you promise to read to me.”

“Promise.”

“It’s not a school night.” She winked at her father.

 

We were snug on the Lazy Boy, the fire crackling, Pamala dozing on and off, Jacob Marley making his entrance when a tapping resounded from the backdoor. “I knew I forgot something.”

“I know the light wasn’t on,” Tex began.

“Right, the space heater. You know where the basement is.”

“Hello?” Pamala said at my shoulder.

“Tex, Pamala, Pamala, Tex.”

“Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”

“Likewise, I think. You were at the mall. I’ve seen you around often.”

“I kind of work in the drug store. Anyway, let me grab the heater, I’ll be out of your hair.”

I waited, ensuring the door locked. “I told him he can stay in the garage.”

“He has no place to live?”

“My garage now. I can’t do the house ­–”

“My gosh, Toby, just the garage is a lot, considering.”

“He’s doing work for me, around the house. I’d cut my wrist open on a window. I can fix the windows. I have plenty other stuff to do.”

“You trust him?”

“I garage-trust him.”

“I was wondering about the wrist. Today, at the mall, I was hoping he was your brother.”

“Because then he wouldn’t be my boyfriend.”

 

The wind without singing to me, the house speaking to me in quiet whispers nudged me from sleep. Antoinette, an artifact from a dream or maybe a wish cast across the mindscape, stood, the sweep of her back to me, gentle hand withdrawing the curtain, watching out the window.

“Is it snowing yet?” I asked.

She turned her head, the soft smile just for me illuminated by the distance streetlight. “The forecast said late in the day.”

“A girl can dream.”

She almost laughed. “Some girls more than others.”

Tossing the blankets back, the chill of the house embraced me. I wanted to hold Antoinette, her gone, relegated to a reflection in the window. “I really like her,” I confessed to the image.

“Why do you think that’s not OK?”

We shrugged together. “I love you.”

She turned away. “That’s OK, too.”

 

Jeans, Temple sweatshirt, gray hooded sweatshirt with the hood pulled up, red bandana worn as a headband, the percolator sang a story. “I wonder,” I answered. “I wonder, if Michael didn’t come crashing into my life, if I’d have taken Mr. Blanc up on his offer.”

The coffeemaker ignored my muse, pontificating on, I think, the glory that was Tory before the Greeks sacked her. The story, I knew, was the classic example of Boys Will Be Boys, the boys doing terrible things all the while blaming Helen.

“Talk to yourself much?” Tex asked from behind me, breaking my stare from the coffeepot.

I’d turned the rear porch light on, unlocked the door. He was expected. “Probably more than is considered mentally healthy.”

“If you had friends –”

“I don’t get why people don’t get it. When I dance naked on a snowy night alone, I happen to like the company I keep.”

Tex applied heat to the iron pan, adding bacon and chopped potatoes. “Oh, trust me little girl. I get the fuck out of that. When I sit cross-legged facing my fire, the world beyond the light fades away. I love the company I keep.”

“You’re not making a fire in the garage, are you?”

“I could have said space heater instead of fire, but that’s not as colorful.”

“You are colorful.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

I backed away from the stove and the coffeepot, leaning on the kitchen table. “I don’t know what’s more annoying. You calling me little girl or ma’am.”

“I’d tip my hat if wearing it. It’s a pleasure to serve, little girl ma’am.”

“Well, Tex, if I know you do it just to annoy me, then it’s not annoying.”

“I call you little girl because it’s an honor and a privilege, seeing as how you don’t allow anyone else to do it. Like it or not, little girl, we have a friendship thing going on.”

I shrugged, accepting a mug, leaving the proclamation unchallenged. I still would have preferred having breakfast with Antoinette, the wraith and I making eyes at each other over eggs and toast. Love, real and true, yet nonexistent in objective reality.

 

Tex was off to the mall for the day. “Saturday before Christmas! The mall will be packed!”

I rolled my eyes, thinking that the perfect reason not to go to the mall, spending three hours on the Lazy Boy in front of the fire, examining every page of three days of newspapers looking for anything about anyone gone missing. I wasn’t obsessed, merely curious.

I did like that Tex washed the breakfast dishes and wiped down the kitchen. He slipped seamlessly into to my life. He appreciated. He didn’t take anything for granted. I wasn’t ready to slap the friend label on his forehead, giving it time, waiting to see whether he shows up one day with a lasso saying, “Let’s play a game.”

 

I took the next couple hours wrapping with newspaper the twenty odd gifts I’d assembled, the bulk of which were for Antoinette from me or maybe from Antoinette to me. I had a couple basic wardrobe items for Toni, a veiled attempt to keep her out of my clothes. And a 2” heeled black patten leather pair of Mary Janes of her very own, the scuffs on my pair – and my ruined silk stockings – still irked me.

Toni, unlike Tex, did not appreciate.

I raked out the yard – again, each time getting easier. As the landlord, I inspected the garage living arraignments. He’d turned the heater off, which was my only real concern – an untended heater. He managed a cozy nest.

My heart fluttered at the appearance of Pamala’s red Chevy II in front of the house late afternoon. Brown and gold striped knit scarf, hat to match, tan overcoat, blue jeans, pull on black boots, she looked ready for winter weather. “Put the rake down,” she said approaching.

“I thought you were –” The rake hit the ground.

She gathered me up, I hugged back. The universe froze, fading away into eternity.

“I missed you.”

Giggling in her ear, I answered, “It’s only been a few hours.”

“I know.”

“I thought you were working.”

Releasing me, keeping a hand, she said, “It’s such a perfect winter day. I wanted it to be more perfect, time spent with you. I got half my request out, Dad sent me to the timeclock.”

“I was going to presumptionate, catching you as you closed up.”

“I out presumptionated you, presumptionating you’d want me for the day!”

“I do, Pamala. I do.”

 

After working up a good fire, we sat facing each other, Pamala constantly looking over my shoulder at the Christmas tree.

“What?”

“Well, we could have gotten you actually wrapping paper.”

I shrugged. “I looked at holiday wrap. It’s kind of like a tradition with me. I don’t know. I’ve always had newspapers around.

“Oh, you did that on purpose.”

“Pretty much.”

“That’s a lot of people to shop for.”

I rolled my eyes. “This is going to sound weird.”

“Toby, that ship sailed days ago.”

We laughed together.

“Most are for Antoinette. Or maybe from Antoinette to me.”

“The dead girl.”

“I prefer wraith. Far not so creepy.”

“You buy the wraith, Antoinette, presents, but they’re really presents for you that you pretend are from her?”

“When you put it like that –”

“Not weird at all. I treat myself all the time, maybe even overindulge myself. I can’t even guess how many times I’ve sat in The Tavern by myself wolfing down a roast beef.” She rolled her eyes. “Great. Now I’m hungry.”

“We could –”

“Joke, Toby.”

I laughed, wiping tears with my palms.

“You have a rich, fulfilling fantasy life. So what? Have you met religious people?” She rolled her head, whistling. “Talk about weird.”

“I’ve gotten thrown out of two congregations.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. They thought I was too weird.”

“Over liking girls?”

“Well –”

“You don’t have to tell them. It’s not like we give off a particular scent, walk in a certain way.”

“That’s not what happened. I had a private conversation with the priest about abuse at home, mistakenly thinking what I said would stay private. He ran like a gossipy old woman to the other gossipy old women of the church, who all thought I should be rescued by the state.”

“Darn. I can now better understand what you said about people.”

“People are assholes. I’m going to get some business cards printed.”

“What did you do? I mean, with the state.”

“Never got that far. My benefactor made a sizable donation to the church. For the right amount, even child abuse is ignored.”

I squirrelled my hand down the front of my tops, retrieving a 1” gold heart. “Fake gold, glass chip.”

Pamala rocked toward me, reading the inscription. “Antoinette.”

“Gift from her to me on Christmas a few years back. Always close to my heart.”

Breathless. “I wish I could have met her.”

“KI wish I could have met her, too. I mean, like in objective reality.”

“Toby.” She held my eyes.

“Pamala?”

“I need to know something. I don’t want to ruin anything, this, us. I’m in the middle of a fairy tale and can’t see anything beyond what I want to see. But I need to ask something. Your answer doesn’t have to be complete, just as honest as you are capable of in this moment.”

I drew a long breath, “Ask me, Pamala. Ask.”

“Are we, you and me, us, real and true?”

“I’m not sure I understand –”

She sat up straight, her voice hard yet pleading. “Let me clear the question up: Are you just fucking with – fucking with the fat girl who just craves, is a sucker for, any attention she can get?”

I choked a little, her pain palatable, tears welling in my eyes. I was tempted for a fleeting moment to tell her yes, I’m just fucking with you, so I wouldn’t have to yolk the responsibly for someone else’s emotions. Instead, I fell back, almost flat to the floor, plucking a small box from among the boxes under the tree.

Returning upright, I may have blushed, avoiding her eyes, presenting the box. “I think, Pamala, this will answer your question better than any words penned by pope or poet or even choked out by me. You may open this now. It has nothing to do with Christmas.”

“Peanuts,” she commented on the wrapping. “My favorite.”

Her efforts quickly revealed a blue velvet box. Pamala turned it over, then around, finding the clasp, hesitating, looking at me. “Toby –”

“Open it.”

She did. “Oh. My. Gosh. Is this real –”

“Gold, yes, diamond chip, yes. Because, Pam, you are real and true, Antoinette is not.”

Tears welled in her eyes. “Now, I don’t know what to do. I thought I’d be in my car on my way home, crying.” She blinked repeatedly, watching me. “Toby?”

“Pam?”

“You called me Pam.”

“I did.”

 

Since we don’t actually live a cliché, having made our proclamations, we didn’t rip each other’s clothes off, making mad, passionate love. We sat cross-legged in a delicate soap bubble, darkness encroaching beyond the fire’s fingers as the afternoon slipped away.

“I’ve always been that fat girl,” she confessed.

“Kids being people, people being assholes, therefore kids are little assholes.”

“I have mirrors at home. Sure, I don’t look like a magazine model. I don’t look like I just got rescued from two years on a desert island where I had nothing to eat.”

She pursed her lips. “Kindergarten. Miss Hilderbran. I think she was a Nazi. One of those teachers who always had a ruler, yet never measured anything. Built like a tank. Tall, intimidating, but I was a little kid. That was most adults. Maria, my sister, was big on reading to me, making me read the words, too.

“I wrote a corny note in crayon, something like I was glad to be in school, learning a lot, having fun. I may have had a run on sentence, but I did spell everything correctly. I was showing off. Most the other kids didn’t even know the alphabet.

“Mr. Harkens, the principal, I thought of him as a jolly old elf, always smiling, and the Nazi were at her desk, both looking at my note. That fat girl in the back of the class, Hilderbran said. They looked up from the note at me. I remember the entire class turned, looking at me. I know that didn’t happen like that, but I remember it that way.

“Funny thing is, Toby. Until that moment, I’d never seen myself as fat – as overweight. Since that moment, the other kids reminded me over the years – often. The thing is, I bet if there’s some kind of chart or something saying what we should weigh, I bet I’m not far off the chart by much.

“Along comes Diane, we become best friends, well, she’s my only friend so there’s no real contest going on, who calls me Pork Chop.”

“Endearing.” I rolled my eyes, not in need of another reason to dislike Diane.

“Right? After all those years of kids calling me fat, sometimes in a chant like a song while dancing some sort of stupid jig, I’m like, Oh, how endearing.”

I hesitated. “Diane doesn’t see you as a friend. It’s more like she sees you as a pet.”

“I know, right?”

Again, I hesitated. “I found it odd she takes a swipe at me for doing such a lowly job as dishwasher, yet she’s doing the same job. If I wanted to be a doctor, I’d get a part time job in a doctor’s office, maybe at the hospital.”

“My gosh! You should be a career counselor!”

“Sarcasm?”

“Well, yes and no. That is a good idea. Her dad requires her to work. The job isn’t challenging.”

“Anyway, I promised myself I wouldn’t talk about Diane.”

“Why?”

“She’s your friend.”

“I’m not sure how much longer that’s going to last.”

I tilted my head.

“Oh, I have no intention of keeping you secret. I mean if that’s alright with you.”

I shrugged. “What other people think about me is really none of my business. How about we wait until after Wednesday?”

“Why?”

“I don’t want your father pounding the piss out of me in the Harvest dining room for corrupting his daughter.”

“You should know that’s not going to happen.”

I crossed my eyes.

“Dad told me where you met.”

 

Levy wore what was obviously his father’s dark overcoat, which I hung in the foyer, Levy in a sharp dark blue suit, light blue striped tie. I accepted Toni’s ankle length dark brown fur, her in a white formal dress to her knees.

“On our way to an event at church,” Levy explained.

We gathered around the dining room table. I formally introduced Pamala as my girlfriend, drawing a beautiful blush from her.

“That explains much,” Levy said, attempting to sound jolly.

“That, Levy, I’ve made no secret. A blind guy driving by fast could see it.”

“Who knows, Toby, maybe you just haven’t met the right guy.”

“I met the right girl.” I rolled my eyes, looking for any other direction. “How was Michelangelo’s?”

Levy rolled his eyes back at me. “We get all the way there, go through all that trouble, turns out you need a reservation – weeks in advance.”

“I heard they’re very good,” Pamala interjected.

“I’ve never been, but I have no doubt.” I went to the kitchen, returning with the telephone receiver to the side of my head, the cord pulled to the maximum. “Two hours?”

Levy realized I was talking to him. “What’s two hours?”

“For dinner – at Michelangelo’s. Two hours OK?”

He looked at Toni, Toni nodded, then back to me. “Sure.”

“Two hours, table for two. Palmer. Thanks,” I said into the phone.

“How the fuck did you do that?”

I shrugged. “I know people.”

“We can swing by the church, get seen, head out,” Levy plotted.

“I need to talk to you.” Toni held my eyes across the table. “Alone.”

“Make it quick,” Levy said.

Toni followed me down the hall, into a spare bedroom. I left the door open, turning on her. “Love the dress, nice pumps.”

“Mrs. Palmer’s from the storage cedar closet – when she was younger, skinnier. Turns out, I almost look like a daughter. You and Pam, huh?”

Not wishing to discuss my relationship, I asked, “What’s up?”

“Oh, nothing earth scattering, well, maybe. You gotta understand, Toby, I have no one to talk to. You’re the closest thing I’ve got to a girlfriend, I don’t mean that as –”

“I know what you mean that as.” With all my force of will, I did not fold my arms across my chest and tap my foot.

“I blew him.”

“Huh?”

“Twice.”

“OK, I guess.”

“Well, it was weird, I mean, well.”

“To quote my girlfriend – ship, sailed.”

“I told you I’ve been jerking him off.”

“Well, sure, yes, you did mention it.”

“I was jerking him off, sitting in his car, making out. I was like all twisted around, so I got comfortable, my head on his chest, kind of mesmerized by his dick jumping in my hand. There was this moment, I wondered, dropping down, taking it in my mouth.”

I was not comfortable with the story, doing my best not to telegram my uneasiness.

“It tasted like pee.”

I did not need that information.

“Do you think they all taste like pee?”

“I have no idea.”

“He’s going a little crazy. I knew I struck gold. One of his hands comes to the back of my head, the other to my cheek. He pushes, I rub his balls. He bursts in three large squirts in the back of my mouth. I gagged a little. I thought I might vomit, the thought of him coming in my mouth kinda gross but you see? That’s Mike thinking. I’m Toni and I loved it.”

If I retained any hope whatsoever of Michael ever becoming, if just for one day, my Antoinette, the hope was murdered mercilessly there in the spare bedroom on a cold December night, left bleeding into the floor.

I climbed above the fray like floating in an evening sky. “That’s really great, Antoinette, that you found each other, get alone so well, even his family in love with you. It’s truly a rare gift, like a soap bubble held on extended fingers.”

“Thanks. And. You’re so weird.”

“Toby,” came from the doorway behind me.

“Pam?” I didn’t turn from Toni.

“It’s started snowing.”

 

The four of us at the door, I stepped into Levy, him a full head over me, reaching up, taking his cheeks and his eyes. “Levy, I want you to make a promise, here and now.”

Bewildered. “OK?”

“I want you to mark this week. I want you to engorge yourself with how you feel not only about Antoinette, but how you feel about yourself. If the time ever comes, because often that’s how the universe works, everything falls apart, crashing down around your ankles, come back to how you feel right now because you can always have this moment anytime you wish.”

I kissed him on the lips, not as a lover, not as a friend. I kissed him as a mother might a dying child.

“You’re weird, Toby,” Antoinette said, pulling Levy across the porch.

Levy broke free, squaring, tethering my eyes across the short distance. “I understand. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Enjoy dinner. Tip the maître d well. Her name is Jessica.”

 

“You didn’t warn me we’d be walking miles!”

I stood back from the fire, its fingers dancing in the trees, snow in lazy flakes lost in an unknown ballet. “It’s a quarter mile.” I sat, pushed her shoulder with mine.”

“I feel like I’m in your church.”

“That’s a good way to put it. When my mother and father would act typically like who they were, which is to say self-absorbed human beings looking to take their self-judged failing out on me, I’d retreat here, getting lost across my mindscape. Words escape me, out there, just beyond my grasp.”

“That’s a scary thought – beyond the words you have.”

I dropped my coat from my shoulders. “I’ll show you. No human being living has ever witness what you’re about to see.”

Storking on one foot, I unlaced and removed my combat boots in turn, followed by my knee socks. Bending at the waist, my jeans were next, folded neatly, placed in the shallow snow on the log next to Pamala.

“Is that satin?”

“Silk.” Again, bending at the waist, I removed my underwear, offered to Pamala. “Silk wicks better than satin. That means –”

“I was a Girl Scout. We learned all about that on the first camping trip. I know what that means.” Accepting the offering, she held my underwear to her face. “That’s you, huh? I thought you kept your clothes in cedar.” She glanced up, catching my eyes. “What?”

“I was just marking this spot. This could be the very moment I fell in love with you.”

She set my silk atop my pants, her palms to the log, leaning back, watching. “I was kind of thinking the same thing.”

I removed my tee shirt, my thermal shirt, and my hooded sweatshirt in one motion.

“I didn’t think you were wearing a bra.”

“Only when I need conceal my offending nipples from a pearl-clutching crowd.”

“Oh, I’m familiar with that crowd.” Her eyes held mine, her looking up, attention then cascading down my naked body like a lazy, craggy waterfall. “My gosh, Toby. You’re beautiful.”

“Thanks.” Removing my hair tie, I spun, my hair circling around me as I plunged into my dance, the snow and fire’s fingers joining, the trees swaying, singing from above. Ten minutes melted by, Antoinette came, I found my bliss in the core of creation, the center of the universe, dancing with Antoinette, becoming Antoinette, becoming me again.

After a time I could not fathom, I dropped to my knees sobbing.

“Toby –”

“I’m OK. I often get lost in how beautiful the universe is.”

“The way I now see the universe has become vastly more beautiful.”

I worked to my feet, stepping toward the log.

“How can you be sweating?” Pamala asked, her fingers raking my pubic hair. “You have a really nice definition. I’m a wooly mammoth.”

Wooly mammoth sounded like something Diane would say, which I didn’t point out, wanting to keep Diane out of sanctuary and out of our night. I hurried into my clothes.

 

We rolled into The Tower just shy of midnight. “Good, a phone. I’ll call so they don’t get all worried you kidnapped me or something.”

“What time do you have to be home?”

“As long as I’m with you, Dad said it didn’t matter, unless it’s a school night. He said I can even skip church tomorrow. Looks like the snow’s going to stick.”

“It’s one of those storms, could be nothing, could be a mess.”

While Pamala made the call in the foyer, I entered, snapped my fingers, when I caught Sally’s attention, I held up two fingers, pointing to the stools by the window counter. “With a bowl of beef gravy, please.”

“Toby.” She bit her lip. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you.”

I held up the two fingers again, then pointed to the stools.

“With a bowl of beef gravy,” she said, deflated.

 

I blushed, just a little, watching my reflection next to Pamala’s. “What I did, was create this wonderful, powerful experience.”

“Dancing naked in the woods.”

“Yes. I’d memorize it, being able to call it up, being there across the mindscape when I wasn’t actually there. I did it when I was being gang raped.”

“That helped?”

“I think it did. I can recall every detail of the assault without having a memory of the assault.”

“That makes no sense, but I think I follow. This is the best cheeseburger I’ve ever had.”

“Like my soft asylum, this place, this burger always pulled me back to a place of calm, regardless of what was happening across the world. Good gravy, too.”

“Comfort food. I can’t believe you got a bowl of gravy.”

“Well, what’s good, is good.”

“I didn’t catch all you said to Levy, mostly because it seemed private and I’m not a nosey person, but that’s what you were getting at?”

“He’s got this rabid high going on. He needs to catch the lightning in a jar, bring out the jar when the luster’s faded.”

“Toby!” She put her fork down, watching my reflection.

“What?”

“Levy doesn’t know Toni’s a boy? How long have you been friends?”

“How do you know?”

“I wouldn’t have even bothered to notice. He left the seat up. That got me looking hard.”

“I’ve warned him about that. I’ve known him since 6^th grade. Levy’s recent. Not that I can say I ever knew Toni. We are not friends. We never hung out. He called the teacher an asshole.”

“Thompson. I remember now. I thought he looked familiar.”

“You have a great memory.”

“A blessing and a curse.”

“Diane was sucking me into an argument. Michael bailed me out.”

“Michael?”

“That’s his name.

“Toni? Antoinette?” She narrowed her eyes at me. “Just who gave him that name?”

I shrugged. “I love her. My Antoinette. I don’t know how to let her go. Can you blame me?”

“You made Michael this.”

“Well, I didn’t. After the mall that night, I learned he was dressing up pretending to be me for years. There was a time, a moment, Michael in my clothes, I thought he could be my Antoinette resurrected.”

“What happened?”

“He left the toilet seat up.” I let out a long sigh. “That family in the mall.”

“I saw you with the guy.”

“He pitched hard, the idea me coming to live with them. He said they’ve bought Antoinette Christmas and birthday presents every year, all waiting for me. He said I could call him Dad, he would call me Antoinette.”

“Whoa, not too creepy.”

“I gave Tex their address so he could come rescue me if I were to ever disappear.”

“Ah, garage friend and rescuer.”

“He owns a gun. Anyway, I may have been tempted, if not for Michael. As surely as Michael failed to be my Antoinette, in a day or in a week, in a month or in a year, I would fail to be their Antoinette. I am simply not her. She’s dead.”

“But not gone, and that’s OK. I’ve been thinking I can’t compete with a dead girl. I’ve got it wrong. A dead girl can’t compete with me. Forty minutes.”

“What is?”

“Forty minutes I watched you, naked, dancing around the fire, the snow dancing with you. I saw you switch in and out. You were you, then you were Antoinette. As surely as we can see the differences between Michael and Antoinette – once I cared to look, I watched him switch in and out – remember where you met my father – he really needs to get his persona down and work it. I’m surprised Levy hasn’t caught him.”

“Levy is preoccupied.”

“That won’t obsess him long, preoccupy, sure, obsess, no.”

With a bent in half fry on my fork, I soaked it, free hand under, feeding Pamala.

“You’re so corny.”

I glanced my reflection, the last person I’d fed a French fry to eons before on a hot August night. She seemed to wink at me, letting me go where I couldn’t let her go. “How’d you like to hear the story of how I lost my virginity?”

“Mine involves a shampoo bottle, a hot shower last night and thinking of you.”

“Really?”

“No, Toby. The shampoo bottle was there, but you weren’t. I didn’t know you back then.”

“Ballantine beer bottle.”

“I didn’t take you for a drinker.”

“I’m not. It was an empty. I thought I had another weird story to tell.”

“Everybody knows girls don’t masturbate, Toby.”

“I have it on good authority girls don’t have sex of any kind and if they do, they don’t enjoy it.”

“Great cheeseburger, made better watching the snow, sitting with you.”

“Thanks for being you, Pam.”

“Anytime.” She plunked a fry in my mouth, slid from her stool, going to Sally, getting a container.

“Leftovers for breakfast,” she said, taking her half and my half, placing them in the box. “They look so cute and cozy together.”

I added our fries, pouring the gravy. “They do. Does that mean you’re staying the night?”

“If I’m not too presumptionating. I would really like to wake up with you, snow on the ground.”

 

I stood in four inches of snow on the street until the red Chevy II disappeared over the rise to the north. “Living in a fairy tale,” I said aloud. “Thanks,” I called into the wind.

“Pleasure to serve,” Tex called back, working a shovel on the sidewalk.

I thought to meet Pam after work. “I’ve kind of lost the weekend. I have a book I have to get read, work on a book report.”

“Come over after work. We’ll read it together.”

“Oh, Toby, the stuff dreams are made up.”

Jessica surprised me, slipping by all my defenses, putting her hands on me where I won’t allow most people within two feet. I imaged I looked at her at the party like Levy looks at Toni, which I called a rabid high. Obsessed, a madness, the theme often making it to the pages of the forums in adult magazines.

I want to stop by once in a while and jerk you off, haunted me, and it’s not that I didn’t rabidly enjoy Jessica jerking me off. I wanted Jessica to slam me against the shelves in the linen closet, me pushing the plush towels and table clothes onto the floor, her putting her tongue down my throat and hand up my skirt.

I wanted more from Sally than just a well-appointed cheeseburger. I understood, and accepted, Sally was doing her job. I gave her money, she gave me prepared food in a fair exchange. If I expected more, that was on me.

“Fiancé,” I said aloud. We’re not having an affair, Jessica told me. Sally said, Oh, don’t be so stupid. We’re not friends. OK, the don’t be so stupid was not said, but understood.

Jessica: “My father can never know.”

Pamala: “Oh, I have no intention of keeping you secret.”

Mrs. Martin: “This is Toby. She is my friend.”

Everything taken as a whole, I knew the difference between love and lust, a fairy tale and Penthouse Forum story.

 

Thuds resounded from the front door. I hurried from the kitchen, eying my baseball bat in the corner by the door, Tex meandered from his place by the fire on the Lazy Boy, stopping four paces behind me.

Two men in dark suits, one in his early twenties, the other pushing fifty, both with bowlers tucked down their foreheads against the weather, both presenting badges. “Toby,” the forward man, the older man, said. “You need to come with us.”

I reached for my coat.

“Hold on a minute, Bucko,” Tex said. “Let me see those badges.”

“And you are?” the younger man asked.

“I’m the person asking to see the badges.” He snapped his fingers.

Tex spent what seemed a long time examining the identification as I worked into my coat.

I kept the older man’s eyes. “Tex?”

“Toby?”

I turned, going to his ear. “Phone number next to the phone. If I’m not back by tonight, call it.”

“I have their names and badge numbers memorized. No matter what, I’ll find you.”

“I thought as much.” I turned back, working my coat buttons. “You have the house, Tex.”

“Gotca.”

“No parties.”

“Right.”

 

 

Part eight