Toby's back was burnt by the sun, yet he continued to lounge face down as his thumbs slid across his cellular phone. He was oblivious to the sounds around him. Sounds that, unfortunately, he heard far too often.
“Skylar,” his mother shouted. Skylar was the father of Toby. Or so it was believed.
“Patricia, I told you to shut up about this. I don't need your constant nagging.” Patricia, the mother, had been with Skylar for about twenty years now, off and on. In their fifth year together, on the back of an abandoned flat bed truck in a closed down rest area, Toby was said to be conceived. Patricia never mentioned that she had recently had sex with another man, Ruby Thompson, a few weeks earlier and goodbye sex with the same red cheeked man (for which the name Ruby was said to have been derived) a month later.
“Don't you tell me to shut up you slack jawed son of a b**ch,” Patricia said, glaring at him. Skylar's lower lip trembled as he held his rage inside. “What the hell do you expect me to do about it? Huh?”
“I don't want to lose the house. Not this one. Not again!” Patricia said, tears beginning to flow.
Little Toby continued to play Angry Birds out on his phone.
“We are not going to lose the house, I am going to talk to Reginald about my hours. Maybe I will be able to get an attorney position if I show some initiative.”
“You should just let it die and go back to working at the plant,” Patricia pleaded. “You made good money back then. You've only struggled since trying to get back into law.”
“Leave me be. It's none of your business what I do with my life,” Skylar said. His green eyes glared as her as he reached his hand upwards and moved it across his crimson red hair.
“It is my business. We've talked about getting married. How the heck are you going to support another child?” Patricia asked.
“I told you, I'll soon have it taken care of. It doesn't help having you nag me about it all the time. I told you I will talk to Reginald about it.”
Patricia turned away, trying to hold back tears. Skylar always said he would talk to Reginald about getting more hours or somehow getting “bumped up” to a better paying position. The reality, however, was that Skylar was making just a little over minimum wage.
“Skylar,” his mother shouted. Skylar was the father of Toby. Or so it was believed.
“Patricia, I told you to shut up about this. I don't need your constant nagging.” Patricia, the mother, had been with Skylar for about twenty years now, off and on. In their fifth year together, on the back of an abandoned flat bed truck in a closed down rest area, Toby was said to be conceived. Patricia never mentioned that she had recently had sex with another man, Ruby Thompson, a few weeks earlier and goodbye sex with the same red cheeked man (for which the name Ruby was said to have been derived) a month later.
“Don't you tell me to shut up you slack jawed son of a b**ch,” Patricia said, glaring at him. Skylar's lower lip trembled as he held his rage inside. “What the hell do you expect me to do about it? Huh?”
“I don't want to lose the house. Not this one. Not again!” Patricia said, tears beginning to flow.
Little Toby continued to play Angry Birds out on his phone.
“We are not going to lose the house, I am going to talk to Reginald about my hours. Maybe I will be able to get an attorney position if I show some initiative.”
“You should just let it die and go back to working at the plant,” Patricia pleaded. “You made good money back then. You've only struggled since trying to get back into law.”
“Leave me be. It's none of your business what I do with my life,” Skylar said. His green eyes glared as her as he reached his hand upwards and moved it across his crimson red hair.
“It is my business. We've talked about getting married. How the heck are you going to support another child?” Patricia asked.
“I told you, I'll soon have it taken care of. It doesn't help having you nag me about it all the time. I told you I will talk to Reginald about it.”
Patricia turned away, trying to hold back tears. Skylar always said he would talk to Reginald about getting more hours or somehow getting “bumped up” to a better paying position. The reality, however, was that Skylar was making just a little over minimum wage.
“Toby!” Patricia shouted, seeing her son's red back and legs frying in the sun. “Get your a** in the shade!”
“Why?” he said, almost oblivious to her.
“You are burning up alive!”
“So?”
“So, you are going to get skin cancer like Uncle Ronald!”
“So?”
“What do you mean so?”
“It doesn't matter. You and dad just fight all the time. I'm just a paperweight, as Dad says.”
“Your father said that?”
“I don't know. He thinks it.”
“No, he doesn't. He's just having a hard time now.”
“I don't care. I just want to lay in the sun and be brown. I hate my pale skin.”
“Toby, you are fine just how you are.”
“Nobody else thinks so.”
“Who else?”
“Nevermind.”
“Girls?”
“Mom, you know that I'm not into girls.”
“You sure seem to be. If you're trying to darken up, you must be trying to impress girls.”
“Sure,” Toby said. He was not about to reveal the fact that he had somewhat sexually charged feelings for his male friend Fernando Koch to his family.
“Well, why don't you come inside and wash up. I'm about to heat us all up some nice TV dinners. Do you want chicken fried steak or meatloaf?”
“Mom. I'm thinking about giving up meat.”
“What? Why would you do something like that?”
“I don't know. I just have been thinking about the animals. You know, how they suffer and such.”
“Well, the animals need to be eaten or they would overtake the earth,” Patricia said. “Now, come clean up. You can go vegetarian when you grow up if you would like.”
“Fine,” Toby said.
“Oh, and not a word about this to your father. He's already under enough stress as it is.”
Toby walked toward the shower as his mother began to unbox three meat loaf TV dinners. As Toby undressed himself, the microwave began to buzz downstairs. Toby turned the faucet onto warm and stepped in. The bathroom soon began to fill with steam as Toby felt the water move over his body. Small chest hairs were beginning to form and Toby grabbed his father's razor and slid it over. Toby did not want to become hairy and preferred to remain smooth. His parents did not seem to know that he shaved, and he was afraid that they would think him to be gay if they found out.
“Toby!” Patricia soon cried out, “dinner's ready.”
“He's in the shower,” Skylar said, walking into the kitchen. He snorted when he saw that he was about to eat the same thing as he ate the night before. “I didn't think that I'd still be eating this way after law school,” he said.
“Well, it's been hard for everyone, and these are the good kind. Hungry man. Now, are you a hungry man?”
“We eat these four times a week, Patricia. It's humiliating.”
“Well, nobody else has to know. Besides, what else would you have me cook? You know I don't have kitchen skills.”
“Never mind. It's just, when's the last time we went out to eat?”
“It's expensive now that Toby eats off the adult menu now at Denny's.”
“No, da** it, not Denny's. I'm talking somewhere where you actually dress up and eat.”
“I don't know. I don't see the point in getting all dolled up to go eat.”
“Never mind.”
“You know, Skylar, you never used to talk like this before law school. But ever since you started school you got these ideas of living high and fancy. Reality isn't like that though. You gotta face that sometime. If not you're going to be miserable for a very long time.”
“You know, Patricia. I'm not even hungry anymore.”
“Well, what do you want me to do with it. Feed the neighbor's dog?”
“Why don't you give it to your beanpole of a son?”
“Well, what the hell crawled up your butt?”
“You!” Skylar yelled, making his way into the garage and slamming the door.
“F***-head,” Patricia said, just as Toby came down stairs in a white t-shirt that bore the name of his father's alma-matter and a pair of green short shorts.
“Can I have dad's?” Toby said.
“You heard him?”
“He thinks I'm too thin.”
“Toby, you're not too thin. You're just late in growing. My brother was like that. So was your Uncle Ronald.”
“He died of skin cancer.”
“No, he's alive somewhere?”
“Where?”
“Las Vegas probably.”
“Still. I want dad's TV dinner anyway.”
“Fine. But your father is just throwing a temper tantrum. He will be back for it,” she said, handing Toby a plate with two stacked meatloaf TV dinners.
“Is Fernando still coming over to spend the night?” Patricia asked.
“He hasn't got back to me. I think he's with his girlfriend,” he said, somewhat quietly.
“It bothers you that he has a girlfriend and you don't, doesn't it?”
“No,” Toby said. “It's not that.”
“You can't fool your mother,” Patricia said. “Whenever you talk about Fernando you get quiet.”
Toby shrugged his sunburned and freckled shoulders and made his way to the living room.
“Dr. Phil's gonna be on soon,” Patricia said, looking at her watch. She followed Toby into the living room and turned on the television. Toby was not too much into television himself but it passed the time. He would usually ignore his mother who talked back to the television, getting all worked up during her real life drama type shows.
Toby ate his TV dinner with his cellular phone on his lap. He looked down, longing for Fernando to call. He had to be done at the movies. He was going to see one of those superhero movies, you know, the ones with the hunky guys and the girls with acres of breasts. You know, the kind that young kids feel cool about seeing but instead spend the two and a half hours making out during? They were probably kissing now, Toby thought to himself. Maybe it was a double feature. Maybe Fernando was gay and just had a girlfriend to cover it up. Toby read about that kind of thing in some of the magazines that his mother read. Yet, Toby was confident that his mother had no clue that he had some of those feelings. Maybe, however, it was just a phase. Toby, perhaps, was just not yet attracted to girls. Maybe he was confused as some of his mother's favorite television shows proclaimed.
Either way, Toby spent much of his time thinking about Fernando. Ever since he saw Fernando change into his swimming trunks in his bedroom, Toby could not get the image out of his mind. For a second Toby saw a little bit of black hair between Fernando's legs and it was at the forefront of Toby's mind.
“Where'd you put my dinner?” Toby heard Skylar say as he moved around the kicthen.
“I gave it to Toby,” Patrica said before turning up the volume on the television.
“What's he going to do with it?” Skylar said, slamming a cupboard door shut.
“He's going to eat it.”
“You can have it back dad.”
“No, Toby, don't give it to him. He didn't want it. He can make his own food.”
“I don't want it anyway. I'll pay Toby fifteen dollars if he can down both of those dinners.”
“With what money?” Patricia said.
“Don't patronize me!” Skylar said. “I talked to Reginald and he is going to talk to a junior partner about getting me a job as a court observer. They are looking for a recent law grad to fill the position and Reginald is confident that I can have the job. In fact, he's so confident that I am about to order myself a fois gras pizza from Burgoise Pizza.”
“Skylar, how much is that going to cost?”
“None of your business,” Skylar said as he looked down to confirm the order on his phone. $47.72 it said as the balance. Skylar looked at it for a moment and then hit back. “Screw it. I'm going to just drive over to Subway and get a turkey footlong.”
“What's wrong with the food we got?”
“Nothing. But there's no way in hell I am going eat another TV dinner.”
“You ate them for ten years without b*tchen, so why not now?”
“Sure,” Toby said. He was not about to reveal the fact that he had somewhat sexually charged feelings for his male friend Fernando Koch to his family.
“Well, why don't you come inside and wash up. I'm about to heat us all up some nice TV dinners. Do you want chicken fried steak or meatloaf?”
“Mom. I'm thinking about giving up meat.”
“What? Why would you do something like that?”
“I don't know. I just have been thinking about the animals. You know, how they suffer and such.”
“Well, the animals need to be eaten or they would overtake the earth,” Patricia said. “Now, come clean up. You can go vegetarian when you grow up if you would like.”
“Fine,” Toby said.
“Oh, and not a word about this to your father. He's already under enough stress as it is.”
Toby walked toward the shower as his mother began to unbox three meat loaf TV dinners. As Toby undressed himself, the microwave began to buzz downstairs. Toby turned the faucet onto warm and stepped in. The bathroom soon began to fill with steam as Toby felt the water move over his body. Small chest hairs were beginning to form and Toby grabbed his father's razor and slid it over. Toby did not want to become hairy and preferred to remain smooth. His parents did not seem to know that he shaved, and he was afraid that they would think him to be gay if they found out.
“Toby!” Patricia soon cried out, “dinner's ready.”
“He's in the shower,” Skylar said, walking into the kitchen. He snorted when he saw that he was about to eat the same thing as he ate the night before. “I didn't think that I'd still be eating this way after law school,” he said.
“Well, it's been hard for everyone, and these are the good kind. Hungry man. Now, are you a hungry man?”
“We eat these four times a week, Patricia. It's humiliating.”
“Well, nobody else has to know. Besides, what else would you have me cook? You know I don't have kitchen skills.”
“Never mind. It's just, when's the last time we went out to eat?”
“It's expensive now that Toby eats off the adult menu now at Denny's.”
“No, da** it, not Denny's. I'm talking somewhere where you actually dress up and eat.”
“I don't know. I don't see the point in getting all dolled up to go eat.”
“Never mind.”
“You know, Skylar, you never used to talk like this before law school. But ever since you started school you got these ideas of living high and fancy. Reality isn't like that though. You gotta face that sometime. If not you're going to be miserable for a very long time.”
“You know, Patricia. I'm not even hungry anymore.”
“Well, what do you want me to do with it. Feed the neighbor's dog?”
“Why don't you give it to your beanpole of a son?”
“Well, what the hell crawled up your butt?”
“You!” Skylar yelled, making his way into the garage and slamming the door.
“F***-head,” Patricia said, just as Toby came down stairs in a white t-shirt that bore the name of his father's alma-matter and a pair of green short shorts.
“Can I have dad's?” Toby said.
“You heard him?”
“He thinks I'm too thin.”
“Toby, you're not too thin. You're just late in growing. My brother was like that. So was your Uncle Ronald.”
“He died of skin cancer.”
“No, he's alive somewhere?”
“Where?”
“Las Vegas probably.”
“Still. I want dad's TV dinner anyway.”
“Fine. But your father is just throwing a temper tantrum. He will be back for it,” she said, handing Toby a plate with two stacked meatloaf TV dinners.
“Is Fernando still coming over to spend the night?” Patricia asked.
“He hasn't got back to me. I think he's with his girlfriend,” he said, somewhat quietly.
“It bothers you that he has a girlfriend and you don't, doesn't it?”
“No,” Toby said. “It's not that.”
“You can't fool your mother,” Patricia said. “Whenever you talk about Fernando you get quiet.”
Toby shrugged his sunburned and freckled shoulders and made his way to the living room.
“Dr. Phil's gonna be on soon,” Patricia said, looking at her watch. She followed Toby into the living room and turned on the television. Toby was not too much into television himself but it passed the time. He would usually ignore his mother who talked back to the television, getting all worked up during her real life drama type shows.
Toby ate his TV dinner with his cellular phone on his lap. He looked down, longing for Fernando to call. He had to be done at the movies. He was going to see one of those superhero movies, you know, the ones with the hunky guys and the girls with acres of breasts. You know, the kind that young kids feel cool about seeing but instead spend the two and a half hours making out during? They were probably kissing now, Toby thought to himself. Maybe it was a double feature. Maybe Fernando was gay and just had a girlfriend to cover it up. Toby read about that kind of thing in some of the magazines that his mother read. Yet, Toby was confident that his mother had no clue that he had some of those feelings. Maybe, however, it was just a phase. Toby, perhaps, was just not yet attracted to girls. Maybe he was confused as some of his mother's favorite television shows proclaimed.
Either way, Toby spent much of his time thinking about Fernando. Ever since he saw Fernando change into his swimming trunks in his bedroom, Toby could not get the image out of his mind. For a second Toby saw a little bit of black hair between Fernando's legs and it was at the forefront of Toby's mind.
“Where'd you put my dinner?” Toby heard Skylar say as he moved around the kicthen.
“I gave it to Toby,” Patrica said before turning up the volume on the television.
“What's he going to do with it?” Skylar said, slamming a cupboard door shut.
“He's going to eat it.”
“You can have it back dad.”
“No, Toby, don't give it to him. He didn't want it. He can make his own food.”
“I don't want it anyway. I'll pay Toby fifteen dollars if he can down both of those dinners.”
“With what money?” Patricia said.
“Don't patronize me!” Skylar said. “I talked to Reginald and he is going to talk to a junior partner about getting me a job as a court observer. They are looking for a recent law grad to fill the position and Reginald is confident that I can have the job. In fact, he's so confident that I am about to order myself a fois gras pizza from Burgoise Pizza.”
“Skylar, how much is that going to cost?”
“None of your business,” Skylar said as he looked down to confirm the order on his phone. $47.72 it said as the balance. Skylar looked at it for a moment and then hit back. “Screw it. I'm going to just drive over to Subway and get a turkey footlong.”
“What's wrong with the food we got?”
“Nothing. But there's no way in hell I am going eat another TV dinner.”
“You ate them for ten years without b*tchen, so why not now?”
“Ten years is enough!” he said, closing the door firmly behind him so he would not have to hear another word from the woman.
“Your father is a stubborn man,” Patricia said to Toby.
“I can't eat this. I'm too full,” Toby said, setting the TV dinners on the coffee table. He had eaten only half of the first one and not even touched the second.
“Go flush those both down the toilet and we'll tell dad you ate both. Then you can have $15.”
“Really?” Toby said, his eyes growing large.
“Yes, you heard your father. Now, get rid of them before he comes back.”
Toby grabbed both TV dinners and ran with them toward the bathroom, but on his way tripped over the stairs and sent both flying. A couple feet ahead of him they slammed against the ground, spilling all over the carpet. Toby sat there for a few seconds, realizing what had been done. The carpets had recently been clean, but now were covered in beef gravy and mashed potatoes. Mother was down below, oblivous to any sounds that did not come from the lips of Dr. Phil. Toby felt tears well up in his eyes as he stood up and made his way to the kitchen. At that same moment his cell phone began to ring and the name Fernando appeared on the screen.
Then the door opened. Skylar walked into the living room, right across from the stairs where the spill had occurred. “What the hell happened here?” Skylar said, and quite loudly.
“What do you mean?” Patricia said, turning around. “Oh, you owe Toby $15, he ate both dinners.”
“No he didn't. They are all over the carpet up here.”
“What?” Patricia said.
“I'm sorry,” Toby said, crying.
“Why were you taking them up the stairs anyway?” Skylar said.
Toby could not form a satisfactory answer.
“Well?” Skylar asked again. “Why?”
“He was going to eat them in his room,” Patricia interrupted. “It's really none of your business. We can clean this up. How did you get your sandwich that fast?”
“I didn't. I figured Toby would not eat my TV dinner and came back for it.”
“Well, it's on the floor now, Skylar, so you're going to have to get something else.”
“Well, I checked the bank account and we're overdrawn so I am not going to be eating after all. No thanks to you.”
“Skylar, this is not the time. Why don't you just find something else to eat. There are more TV dinners in the freezer.”
“I don't want a TV dinner!” Skylar said, in a fit of anger.
“You just said you came back for one.”
“You don't understand. I honestly think you are stupid or something sometimes. Just because I came back for a dinner that was already made doesn't mean that I want to make something that I am honestly sick and tired of eating every night.”
“I'm sick of you calling me stupid. Ever since you started law school you have been putting my intelligence down.”
“No, I have been doing it a lot longer!” Skylar fumed.
“Well, you're going to have to have chicken fried steak, because we ate all the meat loaf ones.”
“No, you didn't eat them all, you lined the carpets with them! I just had those cleaned!”
“Well, accidents happen Skylar, just like in your Torts class.”
“Your father is a stubborn man,” Patricia said to Toby.
“I can't eat this. I'm too full,” Toby said, setting the TV dinners on the coffee table. He had eaten only half of the first one and not even touched the second.
“Go flush those both down the toilet and we'll tell dad you ate both. Then you can have $15.”
“Really?” Toby said, his eyes growing large.
“Yes, you heard your father. Now, get rid of them before he comes back.”
Toby grabbed both TV dinners and ran with them toward the bathroom, but on his way tripped over the stairs and sent both flying. A couple feet ahead of him they slammed against the ground, spilling all over the carpet. Toby sat there for a few seconds, realizing what had been done. The carpets had recently been clean, but now were covered in beef gravy and mashed potatoes. Mother was down below, oblivous to any sounds that did not come from the lips of Dr. Phil. Toby felt tears well up in his eyes as he stood up and made his way to the kitchen. At that same moment his cell phone began to ring and the name Fernando appeared on the screen.
Then the door opened. Skylar walked into the living room, right across from the stairs where the spill had occurred. “What the hell happened here?” Skylar said, and quite loudly.
“What do you mean?” Patricia said, turning around. “Oh, you owe Toby $15, he ate both dinners.”
“No he didn't. They are all over the carpet up here.”
“What?” Patricia said.
“I'm sorry,” Toby said, crying.
“Why were you taking them up the stairs anyway?” Skylar said.
Toby could not form a satisfactory answer.
“Well?” Skylar asked again. “Why?”
“He was going to eat them in his room,” Patricia interrupted. “It's really none of your business. We can clean this up. How did you get your sandwich that fast?”
“I didn't. I figured Toby would not eat my TV dinner and came back for it.”
“Well, it's on the floor now, Skylar, so you're going to have to get something else.”
“Well, I checked the bank account and we're overdrawn so I am not going to be eating after all. No thanks to you.”
“Skylar, this is not the time. Why don't you just find something else to eat. There are more TV dinners in the freezer.”
“I don't want a TV dinner!” Skylar said, in a fit of anger.
“You just said you came back for one.”
“You don't understand. I honestly think you are stupid or something sometimes. Just because I came back for a dinner that was already made doesn't mean that I want to make something that I am honestly sick and tired of eating every night.”
“I'm sick of you calling me stupid. Ever since you started law school you have been putting my intelligence down.”
“No, I have been doing it a lot longer!” Skylar fumed.
“Well, you're going to have to have chicken fried steak, because we ate all the meat loaf ones.”
“No, you didn't eat them all, you lined the carpets with them! I just had those cleaned!”
“Well, accidents happen Skylar, just like in your Torts class.”
About the Story:
Lil' Toby is a work in creation, which is being written while traveling through Egypt. Thank you for reading. This blog will be back in full force in July, when I return from Egypt.
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