Dweller (16 page)

“And decrepit. And I talk about my medical problems all the time. The ache in my knee means it’s getting ready to rain.”

“You’re a very goofy man, Toby.”

“Thank you.” Holy shit! She remembered his name! “Usually I’m awful at carrying on conversations.”

“Me, too. I just babble and forget words and stuff.”

“Did you already have lunch?”

“I did. But I didn’t have a hot fudge sundae.”

“Do you want to get a hot fudge sundae?”

“Yes, I think I do.”

It occurred to Toby that if he had talked and behaved this way in all of his social interactions, he might not have a life where his best friend had fur. Oh, sure, he wasn’t a brilliant conversationalist or a sparkling wit or a charismatic force of nature, but he was comfortable, reasonably charming, and Sarah seemed to genuinely like him.

Toby told her that he didn’t have children. She explained that she and Tom had never had kids, either—they’d wanted to, but the time never seemed right. Tom had one daughter from a previous marriage who had never really warmed up to Sarah and who she hadn’t seen since the funeral.

He talked about the deaths of his parents. He did not talk about the death of Melissa.

She talked about the death of her husband. And then the death of her cat, Rexford, who got hit by a car. Then they joked about the fact that they were eating hot fudge sundaes and talking about death, and decided to move on to more lighthearted subjects.

They were both always the “weird kids” in school.

Her grades were usually C’s and D’s, because it took until the tenth grade to discover that she was dyslexic. Now she loved to read, but she was slow and had to really concentrate—no distractions. So school was taking up almost all of her free time, but it would be worth it in the end. If she figured out what she wanted to do by the time she graduated, of course.

Toby told her about how much he loved to spend time in the woods. He did not tell her about Owen.

They continued talking for over an hour after the sundaes were reduced to a thin layer of melted goo in the bottom of their bowls.

“I should get this out of the way,” Sarah said, twisting her napkin. “I’m not looking to see anybody right now. But I could sure use a friend.”

“So could I.”

“Anyway, you don’t want to date somebody as messed up as me. I’m a wreck. I figure you’ll probably be even looking for a way out of the friendship in a couple of weeks, so here.” She took a pen out of her purse, wrote on the back of the receipt for the sundaes, and gave the receipt to Toby: “
Get Out Of Friendship Free.
”

“That’s really dark,” Toby noted.

“Yet considerate.”

“I’m sure I won’t need it. We’ve only just scratched the surface of my own issues. I guarantee you, if we made a list of reasons why the other one of us should run as fast as they possibly can, mine would be longer and scarier.”

“I’ll take your word on that. I don’t think we should actually make the list, though. This dessert was going so well.”

“I agree.”

“I should get going. I promised my next-door neighbor that I’d watch her yard sale while she took the kids to baseball practice. Call me sometime, okay?”

“I will.”

They walked out of the ice-cream parlor, and Sarah extended her hand. “Very nice to meet you, Toby.”

“And very nice to meet you, Sarah.”

“Talk to you soon.”

“Absolutely.”

Toby threw away the receipt.

“I didn’t screw it up!” Toby cheerfully proclaimed. “Can you believe it? I wasn’t creepy, I wasn’t a babbling idiot, I didn’t spill hot fudge all over my shirt—okay, one small spot, but I don’t think she even noticed. It was amazing. She says she’s not looking to actually date right now, but that’s totally fine with me. She’s still getting over her husband. But I had such a good time. It’s so great to finally have a friend like that.”

I’m friend.

“I know you are, Owen, you’re my best friend. That’s not what I meant.”

Only friend.

“You are my only friend. I mean, were my only friend. I mean—you know what I mean. Don’t get jealous on me. What the hell? I’m telling you about the beautiful woman who likes me. I’m middle-aged now, and I didn’t exactly have women swarming me when I was young and virile. Just chill.”

Owen turned away from him and sat down on the beanbag.

“Oh, what, you’re going to pout now? You’re going to give me crap because I suddenly have a
human
friend? You need to grow up, Owen.”

Without looking back, Owen waved for him to leave.

“No, I’m not going anywhere. Which, I would like to emphasize, is my whole point. Did I abandon you when I was with Melissa? Did I?”

No response.

“No, I didn’t. And you know what, she was insatiable. There were lots of times when I came out here to spend time with you when I could’ve been getting laid like a porn star! Did you see me getting jealous when you ditched me for
two years
to be with your other monster buddies? Two years! If you’re so goddamn jealous of me having a relationship with my own species, why don’t you go visit them, huh?”

Toby’s shoulders fell. “Aw, shit, Owen, I’m sorry. There’s no excuse for that. It was just mean.”

He stepped toward Owen, who didn’t look back, but let out a menacing growl.

“Don’t do that, Owen. I’m serious.”

The growling got louder. Owen looked back at Toby, teeth bared.

“I’m going to leave while you get yourself sorted out,” Toby said, “but if you think that I haven’t made sacrifices for our friendship,
huge
ones, then you can fuck off and die.”

He stormed out of the shack. What a horrible, ungrateful friend. Owen should be happy for him,
thrilled
for him, not all pissy. How dare he show his teeth like that? Toby wanted to walk back in there and kick them out, like he had Brutus’s. Watch Owen spit fangs out onto the floor. He wouldn’t be so inclined to throw a jealous fit after that, would he?

Toby really shouldn’t have made the comment about visiting the other monsters. That was an awful thing to say. Cruel.

But, still, he wasn’t going to beat himself up over it. Owen was the one being unreasonable. Owen was the selfish one who didn’t want to see his friend happy if it meant getting in a few minutes less playtime.

Screw him.

Screw that stupid, selfish, murdering monster.

Toby didn’t need him. What value did he bring to Toby’s life? Some growling and some fucking hand signals? Wow, how could he ever live without
that
? He might not get to hear Owen’s one-word vocabulary anymore. “
Toby.
” What a loss.

Toby got madder and madder as he walked away from the shack—the shack that Toby had done most of the work on, thank you very much. It wasn’t an architectural marvel, but it was a shitload better than the filthy cave he was lurking in for two decades, and if Owen didn’t appreciate his
efforts, then Toby would just leave him out in the woods to rot. He could sit there and tear apart his beanbag some more and grow old and die and decay right into the wood.

And screw walking away. He was going to march back there and tell that asshole that he was on his own from now on. If he wanted to be a great big jealous baby, he could find himself another best friend, somebody with absolutely no life who had nothing better to do all day long than sit in a shack with an animal.

He went back and pushed open the door. “You know what, Owen, I just want to say—”

Owen rushed toward him.

Then threw his arms around him and gave him a hug.

Toby was still pretty pissed, but he patted the monster’s back as they hugged. “It’s okay. It’s okay, buddy.”

Owen pulled away.
I’m sorry
, he signed.

“You should be.”

Owen looked so sad that Toby couldn’t help but feel his anger fade away. He tried to keep it—Owen deserved to have Toby furious at him—but he couldn’t.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” Toby assured him. “I’m not going to let a woman come between us. Nobody, no matter who it is, will ever come between us. We’re friends forever.”

Promise
?

“Cross my heart. Hope to die. Stick a pitchfork in my eye.”

Stay
?

“Of course. I’m not going anywhere, Owen.”

As he walked home, it occurred to him that he hadn’t even considered the idea that Owen might try to rip a big chunk out of his chest. They’d been friends for a long time, but…wow, that could have gone terribly wrong.

And Owen had gone on a rampage before.

Toby needed to remember what he was dealing with
here: an animal. Maybe one that was closer to a human than any other creature on the planet, but still, an animal that liked the taste of human flesh.

Perhaps he needed to consider moving Owen back to the cave.

Nah. If anything, he wanted his friend to be closer, now that he’d have less free time to spend walking through the forest.

There was no magical moment.

Toby would’ve expected one. He and Sarah would be sitting on the couch, watching a movie. He’d reach into the popcorn bowl, she’d reach into the popcorn bowl, their buttery fingers would touch, there’d be a jolt of pure romantic electricity, and suddenly they’d be passionately kissing, spilling popcorn everywhere.

Or, after months of angst, Toby would confess all, tearfully explain that he loved her, that he couldn’t live without her, and that if she wasn’t ready that was okay, he’d wait for her. And she’d tearfully say that she was ready, that she’d been ready for a while now, and they’d kiss and cry together and then make love.

It wasn’t like that. For a few months, they just hung out like friends. Not dating—Sarah always paid her own way—and nothing more physical than pats on the arm and good-bye hugs.

And then they were holding hands while walking downtown, window-shopping. They didn’t mention it, didn’t acknowledge any kind of change this might mean in their relationship—it just felt natural to hold hands, and they did it without comment.

Then quick good-bye kisses.

Then quick hello kisses.

But it still felt like friends who just happened to be affectionate. No big deal.

She studied a lot, and during that time Toby hung out
with Owen. Sarah and Toby shared secrets—she told him how she’d felt watching her husband die, and he’d told her about the freakish night when some sort of escaped animal slaughtered his girlfriend—but, of course, he could never tell her the whole truth.

More kisses.

Snuggling on the couch during a movie.

She told him that she wasn’t crying over Tom as much these days, but didn’t directly relate it to what may or may not have been a blossoming romance.

She asked him what he did in the woods, and he lied. He just walked through the trees, enjoying the fresh air and solitude, getting exercise, being one with nature.

He took her with him, several times. It was a big forest. Plenty of places to go. She pretended to have a good time, but he called her out on it, and she admitted that she was much more of an indoor person, or at least preferred the outdoors without so many bugs. They laughed and happily found other things to do besides hiking in the forest.

She comforted him every time he got a rejection, which meant that she did a lot of comforting. They joked about killing comic strip editors.

When she wanted to go to an all-weekend bluegrass music festival, they went together. They sang during the drive, as loudly as they could—they loved enduring each other’s vocals, as long as they didn’t torment innocent bystanders.

Neither of them said anything, but it was understood that they would share a hotel room, and a bed.

They lay together, kissing gently, Sarah down to her bra and panties. Then the look of sadness from the support group appeared, and she pulled away from him.

“I’m sorry, I…you understand, right?”

“Of course I do.”

They held each other all night.

The music festival got rained out, so they spent the day
singing in the hotel room. They kissed some more after darkness fell, and she said that she was ready.

Then she warned him that she was ending a dry spell of several years and that he might be in very serious danger.

Somehow, he survived.

1986

“What if we got married?” Sarah asked.

“Um, are you proposing to me?”

“No, I’m not trying to steal your thunder. I’m just throwing the idea out there. I love you, you love me, we want babies someday, so let’s make them legitimate before they’re accidentally conceived.”

“Wow.” Toby kissed her. “That’s the most flowery, poetic—”

“I know, I know. But I’m serious.”

“—heartfelt, romantic—”

She punched him playfully on the arm. “Enough! You know what I mean. Let’s do it. We’re not getting any younger.”

“So, what, do I just drop to one knee?”

“No. You should get a ring first.”

“How do you know I don’t already have it?”

“Do you?”

“Yes. It’s back at my place. If you’d been considerate enough to start this conversation
there
, I could’ve run into my bedroom, brought it out, and it would’ve been this great big romantic deal. But instead, we have to drive eight miles.”

“You’re joking, right? Do you really have a ring?”

“Yes.”

“Seriously, Toby, don’t kid around. You really truly bought an engagement ring?”

“Let’s go get it.”

He’d decided to buy a ring the weekend after they
made love for the first time. He knew it was too soon, way too soon, and that he might never get to give it to her, but he wanted to have the ring.

Owen had helped him pick it out. Toby had brought pictures of the top three possibilities, and Owen had tapped his talon against the princess-cut diamond, which was Toby’s first choice, too. If he asked again with the same three pictures, Owen would probably point to something different, but that was okay.

He also had his mother’s engagement ring in his top drawer. It was a beautiful ring—much more expensive than the one he bought for Sarah. But he couldn’t give his future wife a ring that came from the finger of a woman who slit her wrists. He just couldn’t.

As they drove toward his home, Toby wondered about the impact of his marriage on Owen. They’d have to move into a new home—his house was okay for himself,
maybe
for the two of them, but definitely too small for an expanding family.

She knew he loved the forest. He’d just have to insist that they get a home in the same general area. He’d start researching possibilities.