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drsquidlove) wrote2015-01-07 05:20 pm
drsquidlove) wrote2015-01-07 05:20 pm
Entry tags:
Someone Like You 35/50: Happy birthday - Beecher/Stabler
Someone Like You
by Dr Squidlove
drsquidlove @@@ livejournal.com
Oz/Law & Order: SVU crossover
Tobias Beecher's trying to rebuild his family in the shadow of the man he was in prison. Elliot Stabler's struggling to continue in the wake of divorce while his job eats away at his soul. It makes for an odd friendship, but it works.
Rated R for violence and explicit references to sexual violence.
Wordcount this post: 3370
Full headers are on chapter 1.
Oz is the property of Tom Fontana and HBO. Law & Order: SVU is the property of Dick Wolf and NBC. The characters are used without permission, but with much appreciation.
Someone Like You
chapter 35: Happy birthday
by Dr Squidlove
Previously, in chapter 34, Family values:
Toby finally got to San Diego. He enjoyed playing computer games with Harry, then wandered downstairs to find Holly and her grandfather locking horns over gays in the military. Toby told Holly not to call her grandfather an idiot, and told Jonah not to turn Harry into a homophobe.
Grasping for a way to understand Toby's love for Chris Keller, Elliot met up with Oz Officer Murphy. Murphy was taken aback by the resemblance. Once again, new revelations made it worse. Specifically, that Murphy wasn't willing to blame Stockholm, that Toby had got parole and broken it for Chris, and uh-oh, that Murphy said Toby murdered Keller. Even after all that, Elliot had been Toby's second choice.
Sadly, Elliot never thought to ask what Murphy meant by 'the Robson incident'.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Toby had learned his lesson from the last trip to San Diego. He was wearing a hat and his new Cabrillo Beach t-shirt, and everything else was slathered with sunscreen.
He lifted his hand to shade his eyes and peered over the beach for a headcount. Harry and three of his friends were playing in the surf under Marta's watchful eyes, his cousin Frances and one more wading back to the sand, the last four picking through the leftover party food. Holly was sitting under the same tree she'd been sitting under all day, swaddled in protest against the sun, reading her book.
This wasn't the birthday party he'd been hoping for.
He'd had some grand vision of getting to know Harry's friends this week, but he hadn't seen most of them until today, and they were too old to be playing games with the parents. Harry had barely spoken to him once his friends turned up, except to thank him politely for the birthday cake. Jonah had barely spoken to Toby since Toby backed Holly over gays in the military. Holly still thought he'd taken Jonah's side, and only talked to him when Harry was watching, and only then, Toby suspected, to prove Toby was hers.
The kids by the little tent sheltering the coolers of food were struggling to open a bottle of soda, so Toby stood up and headed over, practising names. Phillip and Ben from windsailing, Kenji and Anh from school. The one with Frances was a neighbour, Tabitha.
Toby arrived behind the girls, in time to hear one of the classmates say, "I thought his dad was dead."
"That's what Harry told me."
"Me too."
Toby froze, wishing there was somewhere to disappear before they saw him. A hole in the ground would have been perfect.
"He left when Harry was a baby."
"Tabitha!" Frances snapped.
"Well they know he's not dead, so they might as well know the truth. He left when Harry's mom died. He was no good so when she died the Admiral and Mrs Simmons took Harry in."
"What about his sister the witch? How come the Admiral and Mrs Simmons didn't keep her?"
"She told me that their dad-"
"Shut up, Tabitha!"
"She said it!"
"She's a liar!"
All the other kids were leaning in, eager to hear what Holly said about Harry, but Kenji looked up and gasped, and they all fell quiet.
Toby wished one of them would say something, because he couldn't. Harry told his friends he was dead. Better dead than in prison.
He reached out to take the bottle they'd been struggling with, and loosened the cap. Wordlessly he passed it back and walked away.
Two steps back towards his chair, changed his mind, three steps towards Marta, no, so he headed for Holly's tree.
He would have given anything he could imagine, to be able to call Elliot right now and listen to him brush this off with funny stories of his own kids disowning him. Maybe if Toby called him with his Holly and Harry problems, Elliot wouldn't hang up. Toby was a sick, serial killer-fucking scumbag, but Elliot wouldn't turn away kids. He'd bet Elliot would still do anything for Holly.
Elliot would probably tell Toby to give up custody, and get the hell out of their lives.
Holly had a wide-brimmed hat pulled low and a towel draped over her shoulders, her long blonde hair tied back but a few loose curls were waving in the ocean breeze.
He couldn't stand that Holly didn't acknowledge him when he sat beside her, so he asked, "How are you doing?"
She marked her place with a finger and gave him a sour look. "Can I go home, yet?"
"Hol..."
Harry told all his friends his dad was dead. Toby doubted Elliot had any amusing stories of his kids pretending that.
"Dad?"
"What did you tell your friends about where I was when you were growing up?"
Shame washed over her face. What did he expect?
"I'm sorry, Holly, it doesn't matter. You could tell them anything you wanted."
"Everyone at school knew you were in prison. But if someone else asked I said you lived in England. That's what Gary used to say."
"I don't mind that." It wasn't as though he wanted his kids to share his stigma. "What did you tell Tabitha?"
She froze, totally guilty. "Nothing."
Where was Elliot, the master child-interrogator when Toby needed him? Getting on with his life. "You told her something about why Harry doesn't live with us. I'd rather hear it from you than ask her." In fact, Toby would never, ever ask Tabitha.
Holly mumbled something, so Toby put a finger under her chin and lifted. She started again. "I told her we didn't want Harry because he was so ugly."
Toby took a long breath, and looked over the beach. Ten kids, all accounted for. "I wish the two of you could find a way to get along."
"I hate him."
"Don't say that, Holly." She wrinkled her nose and rolled her eyes, caring about as much for the power of those words as Toby would have when he was her age. "Family matters. I know you can't imagine it yet, but the two of you are going to be there for each other long after you've forgotten all the friends you have now. Your Uncle Angus and I weren't close when we were kids, but I don't know how I would have made it through my sentence without him keeping an eye out for you." Family was all Toby had left from his old life. The friends were long-gone.
"Harry isn't my family."
"Please, Hol. I've had time to try to make up all my mistakes with you. I love that we're so close. I want a chance to build a relationship like that with him."
"He has his own family. He likes them better anyway, so why do you need him?"
"Because it hurts. Because I love him, just like I love you."
"You shouldn't." She jumped to her feet. "He's horrible. He says horrible things. I'm nice and I take care of you and I never get in trouble or make you worry but you still love him more." She clutched her book to her chest and ran for Jonah and Marta's house, and Toby slumped back against the tree.
She had no idea how wrong she was. Loving her was easy, like breathing. Harry was a struggle, still that same protective devotion he'd felt for the newborn son in his arms, but mired in awkwardness and uncertainty. It didn't make it easier knowing Harry probably felt the same way about him.
Eventually the parents took their kids home, the party dissolved, and Toby and Marta and the staff packed up what was left, to carry back to the house. Harry was wired on sugar and attention, taking non-stop to Frances as he led the way. He'd told his friends Toby was dead.
Marta told everyone to pile everything on the front porch to sort later. Family presents, first. Toby was about to jump in, give his before Jonah and Marta made him an anti-climax, but with a grand flourish Marta told Harry to look out the back window, and it was too late.
Harry shrieked when he saw, and rushed out to the deck.
Toby followed the others outside to Harry's brand new windsail, watched Jonah extol all its specifications as Harry danced around, admiring it.
Toby had known this was coming - he and Jonah and Marta had talked out their gifts this time - but he still felt inadequate. Toby could have bought Harry a windsail. He certainly could have afforded it, if he'd known the first thing about buying them, if he'd known Harry was ready for the next size up, but he didn't know anything about windsailing. Besides, he'd never bought anything so extravagant for Holly.
When Harry eventually calmed down, Jonah turned him towards Toby. "Your father has something I think you'll like."
Toby led the way back inside and pulled his much-smaller gift from the shelf, holding his breath as Harry plonked on the living room floor and tore the rainbow of paper away. Harry was too young for this, but Toby hoped he would have the good manners to at least pretend he appreciated it.
Marta and Jonah stood back watching, and Gen's sister Rebecca was playing with Frances's hair. Toby noticed someone had herded Holly downstairs, and she was jammed in a corner, scowling.
Harry paused at the feminine, floral box, but lifted the lid and stared inside, silently.
Toby squirmed. This had been a stupid idea, but it was too late to change it now. He sat beside him. "All these things were your mother's." He lifted out the dusty old copies of 'Bridge to Terabithia' and 'Roll of Thunder, Hear my Cry' and 'Trixie Belden'. "These were her favourite books when she was your age. She kept them, used to say she was going to read them with all of you, one day."
This had been Elliot's idea, sort of. Back when he reminded Toby of what a mystery Gen must be to Harry.
Harry reached in and lifted out a pile of CDs, so Toby kept going. "That was her favourite music. She used to play that George Michael album over and over, until it drove me crazy." Toby had dug this stuff out of boxes in his mother's basement, and he'd put the CD on and the memories had rushed back. Genevieve eight months pregnant, dancing around the kitchen as she belted out 'Freedom 90', both of them laughing as she patted her huge belly and insisted that her son was going to know all the words to every song. It was hard to believe it was this same life.
Suddenly Harry was in Toby's lap, hugging him like he'd never hugged him before. Toby's breath rushed out like he'd been punched. He pulled Harry close, cupped a hand in his hair, closed his eyes. He'd got it right.
"That's a wonderful gift, Toby," said Marta. It was nice to hear but Toby had all the approval he wanted right here.
Harry's arms loosened and Toby made himself let go. Blinked a few times to get his composure, but Harry was glassy-eyed, as well. "Thanks, Dad."
"She loved you very much, Harry."
"No, she didn't."
It took a moment to pick up what Holly had said, and Toby and Harry both turned to stare at her. Holly was glassy-eyed too, and her mouth was trembling.
"That's a horrible thing to say," exclaimed Marta, at last.
Harry clutched George Michael close. "Shut up, Holly. She did!"
"That's just what adults say," snapped Holly. "When people are dead everyone pretends they were perfect. She didn't love you."
"Holly!" Toby, Marta and Jonah, all in one breath, but Holly ploughed on.
"She didn't want to read you those books! She dumped you at Aunty Bec's house while she locked herself in the garage and killed herself!"
Jonah rushed at Holly and Toby threw himself forward, catching his weight and shoving him back as Marta called Holly a nasty little girl. Jonah was red with rage, surging against Toby's fists and Harry was yelling that Holly was a liar as Holly yelled right back, everyone yelling so Toby yelled for Holly to go to her room. Holly screamed, "I hate her! If she loved us she wouldn't have killed herself!" and Harry was crying now, wailing, "Stop saying that! You're a liar!" and Holly snarled, "Don't you even know she killed herself?" and finally Toby turned and grabbed Holly and dragged her up the stairs himself.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The flight out to San Diego had been Holly's first plane trip: constant chatter and bouncing in her huge business-class seat and big-eyed wonder at take-off and landing. The flight back to New York was her first flight while not speaking to Toby. Cold silence and staring out the window. She'd turned around and walked herself onto the security line without a farewell or thank you to anyone while Toby squeezed Harry goodbye under Jonah and Marta's chilly stare.
Harry was the only one not angry with Toby, though he hadn't stopped crying since his birthday was left in ruins.
Toby didn't know what to do with Holly. She was starting middle school tomorrow. She should have been excited or nervous, but all she was was angry with Toby. He was angry with her, and he hated it.
She didn't look back until the attendant came around to offer drinks, so as soon as she had her glass of orange juice on her tray, Toby seized the opportunity. "Can we talk?"
She shrugged, and stared out the window at the clear sky.
Toby searched for a place to start. He hadn't spoken a word to her until he knocked on the door this morning to tell her they were leaving in an hour. He'd spent the night comforting Harry. Trying to make suicide make sense to a ten year-old.
Holly looked back over her shoulder. "Did you tell Pop you're gay?"
It made his breath catch, how casually Holly said it. Like it didn't matter to her one whit. This wasn't what he wanted to talk about first, but he'd take any opening she was willing to give him. "I think that conversation can wait a little longer."
"Are you embarrassed about being gay?"
"I'm not, no... Of course I..."' He fought the urge to check if half of business class was staring at him. "It's not like that. Your Nan and Pop and I disagree about a lot of things, but we have to get along. I have to choose my battles." He wished he had the luxury of calling Jonah an idiot and storming out. "I don't think you know how hard it is. Seeing someone else be the father I'm supposed to be. Negotiating with your Nan and Pop, trying to build something with Harry through phone calls and snatched weekends. You may not care about all that but I do. I know you were trying to protect me from Jonah, but it didn't help."
Her face twisted. "Do you lecture Harry about how he isn't helping?"
Well, no...
"Do you yell at Harry when he calls people names?"
Holly could be a hell of a lawyer. "I didn't take Pop's side that day, Hol. I backed everything you said; I just didn't call him an idiot."
She turned back to the window.
"Look at me."
She looked at him over her shoulder, after a long enough pause to prove it was because she chose to. "Harry says bad things about gay people."
Toby's stomach clenched. He'd been afraid of that. "He's nine. He doesn't know what he's saying."
"I didn't say bad things about gay people when I was a kid. And he's ten, now."
"Then we'll teach him better." Toby leaned in. "I'm sorry I gave your mother's things away without asking-"
"I don't want them. I don't care about her stupid books."
That had been the kindest explanation Toby had for Holly's behaviour, the excuse he offered to Marta and Jonah. "What you did to Harry yesterday... That was cruel."
"I didn't know he didn't know," she pouted.
At least that was something. "Neither did I. But even if he had known, that's a hell of thing to throw in someone's face. You of all people-"
"Why shouldn't Harry know? Why does he get to be a baby? How come everything bad happens to me, and he gets to live in some stupid fantasy world and then I'm the one who has to be nice to him? You don't get mad at him for anything! Why shouldn't I be horrible too?" She choked up and turned her back on him, shaking.
"Hol-"
"Leave me alone."
Toby wanted to push but his throat was closing around the words. Everything she said was fair, except for the focus of her rage.
Elliot wasn't going to greet him at JFK, this time. He wasn't going to tell Toby he was doing fine as a father. Toby needed to hear it from someone, even if it was a lie. Elliot wasn't going to kiss him or smooth aloe over his sunburn or even notice he'd been gone.
He'd lost Elliot and he was losing Holly and he'd never really had Harry in the first place. No matter how hard he tried, everything went to shit, and he was going to be alone in the end.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Elliot stared at the clock. Almost three. If he didn't get some sleep soon, he was screwed.
He hadn't slept last night, and he hadn't slept the night before, so there was no chance he was going to sleep tonight, with today's counselling failure chasing around his head. Elliot was forcing himself into therapy because he wanted to do something about his temper and all the frustrations of his job, and she'd kept digging into his parents like some Freudian cliche, asking about his kids, pressing about his personal life since Kathy split, getting far too close to Toby. The cloud that hung around Elliot had been with him long before Toby came along. Toby wasn't to blame for what was wrong with Elliot any more than Kathy was.
There was plenty to blame on Toby: just not that.
He'd asked her about sleeping pills, but he knew pills weren't a good idea when your job called you out at any hour of the night. She'd told him to try other things, first. Meditation, no thanks. He knew what he needed for a good night's sleep. He needed to go home. To check the locks on all the doors and windows, peek in on his sleeping kids, and crawl in with Kathy. At least that was how it used to work in his fantasy memories.
These days he couldn't even jerk off to memories of Kathy. He'd tried to go back to fantasising about women, but he found himself still picturing the only male body he knew.
A murderer. How could he still get hard for that?
Elliot threw off the covers and padded out to the main room, looked back and forth between the kitchen and the TV. He wasn't hungry, didn't want to watch TV, but he was sick to death of lying in bed. He wanted to go outside but he didn't want to go anywhere, wanted to wake up Olivia but he didn't want to talk, wanted to sleep but he was wired.
He'd thought about contacting that psychologist-nun Murphy told him about, but he'd had enough of all that. He didn't need some prison-shrink playing head-games on top of it all. The only person who could tell him what was going on in Toby's mind was Toby. Maybe not even him.
He went to the front window and pushed it wide open, leaned out on his elbows and drank in the cool air, felt it slip over his bare shoulders. The street below was dark and quiet.
If Toby killed Elliot's twin, had Elliot been some kind of redemption for him? A do-over with a second-rate copy?
Chris Keller was a narcissist and a monster, and he'd pursued Toby for months for forgiveness.
Toby had had freedom, and he'd broken parole for his lover, gone back inside. No wonder Harry didn't trust that he was home for good.
Toby killed - murdered - Chris. He'd shoved him over a balcony with a surge of passion that he'd never felt for Elliot.
After all those months together, Toby was a stranger.
A stranger who cared for Elliot in the end.
Elliot couldn't stop picturing the look Murphy had described afterwards. He'd seen glimpses of that Toby, eaten by guilt and loss. He'd glimpsed it in the diner window three weeks back, seen it in his own apartment two weeks before that. He wished he could stop worrying about whether Toby still thought about throwing himself over that balcony as well.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
end chapter 35
Feedback conspires to debauch and corrupt the morals of society. Concrit thoroughly welcome, warm fuzzies treasured. Here or at drsquidlove @@@ livejournal.com
The complete works of Dr Squidlove can be found at http://members.iinet.net.au/~tentacles/squidfic.html
S.
by Dr Squidlove
drsquidlove @@@ livejournal.com
Oz/Law & Order: SVU crossover
Tobias Beecher's trying to rebuild his family in the shadow of the man he was in prison. Elliot Stabler's struggling to continue in the wake of divorce while his job eats away at his soul. It makes for an odd friendship, but it works.
Rated R for violence and explicit references to sexual violence.
Wordcount this post: 3370
Full headers are on chapter 1.
Oz is the property of Tom Fontana and HBO. Law & Order: SVU is the property of Dick Wolf and NBC. The characters are used without permission, but with much appreciation.
Someone Like You
chapter 35: Happy birthday
by Dr Squidlove
Previously, in chapter 34, Family values:
Toby finally got to San Diego. He enjoyed playing computer games with Harry, then wandered downstairs to find Holly and her grandfather locking horns over gays in the military. Toby told Holly not to call her grandfather an idiot, and told Jonah not to turn Harry into a homophobe.
Grasping for a way to understand Toby's love for Chris Keller, Elliot met up with Oz Officer Murphy. Murphy was taken aback by the resemblance. Once again, new revelations made it worse. Specifically, that Murphy wasn't willing to blame Stockholm, that Toby had got parole and broken it for Chris, and uh-oh, that Murphy said Toby murdered Keller. Even after all that, Elliot had been Toby's second choice.
Sadly, Elliot never thought to ask what Murphy meant by 'the Robson incident'.
Toby had learned his lesson from the last trip to San Diego. He was wearing a hat and his new Cabrillo Beach t-shirt, and everything else was slathered with sunscreen.
He lifted his hand to shade his eyes and peered over the beach for a headcount. Harry and three of his friends were playing in the surf under Marta's watchful eyes, his cousin Frances and one more wading back to the sand, the last four picking through the leftover party food. Holly was sitting under the same tree she'd been sitting under all day, swaddled in protest against the sun, reading her book.
This wasn't the birthday party he'd been hoping for.
He'd had some grand vision of getting to know Harry's friends this week, but he hadn't seen most of them until today, and they were too old to be playing games with the parents. Harry had barely spoken to him once his friends turned up, except to thank him politely for the birthday cake. Jonah had barely spoken to Toby since Toby backed Holly over gays in the military. Holly still thought he'd taken Jonah's side, and only talked to him when Harry was watching, and only then, Toby suspected, to prove Toby was hers.
The kids by the little tent sheltering the coolers of food were struggling to open a bottle of soda, so Toby stood up and headed over, practising names. Phillip and Ben from windsailing, Kenji and Anh from school. The one with Frances was a neighbour, Tabitha.
Toby arrived behind the girls, in time to hear one of the classmates say, "I thought his dad was dead."
"That's what Harry told me."
"Me too."
Toby froze, wishing there was somewhere to disappear before they saw him. A hole in the ground would have been perfect.
"He left when Harry was a baby."
"Tabitha!" Frances snapped.
"Well they know he's not dead, so they might as well know the truth. He left when Harry's mom died. He was no good so when she died the Admiral and Mrs Simmons took Harry in."
"What about his sister the witch? How come the Admiral and Mrs Simmons didn't keep her?"
"She told me that their dad-"
"Shut up, Tabitha!"
"She said it!"
"She's a liar!"
All the other kids were leaning in, eager to hear what Holly said about Harry, but Kenji looked up and gasped, and they all fell quiet.
Toby wished one of them would say something, because he couldn't. Harry told his friends he was dead. Better dead than in prison.
He reached out to take the bottle they'd been struggling with, and loosened the cap. Wordlessly he passed it back and walked away.
Two steps back towards his chair, changed his mind, three steps towards Marta, no, so he headed for Holly's tree.
He would have given anything he could imagine, to be able to call Elliot right now and listen to him brush this off with funny stories of his own kids disowning him. Maybe if Toby called him with his Holly and Harry problems, Elliot wouldn't hang up. Toby was a sick, serial killer-fucking scumbag, but Elliot wouldn't turn away kids. He'd bet Elliot would still do anything for Holly.
Elliot would probably tell Toby to give up custody, and get the hell out of their lives.
Holly had a wide-brimmed hat pulled low and a towel draped over her shoulders, her long blonde hair tied back but a few loose curls were waving in the ocean breeze.
He couldn't stand that Holly didn't acknowledge him when he sat beside her, so he asked, "How are you doing?"
She marked her place with a finger and gave him a sour look. "Can I go home, yet?"
"Hol..."
Harry told all his friends his dad was dead. Toby doubted Elliot had any amusing stories of his kids pretending that.
"Dad?"
"What did you tell your friends about where I was when you were growing up?"
Shame washed over her face. What did he expect?
"I'm sorry, Holly, it doesn't matter. You could tell them anything you wanted."
"Everyone at school knew you were in prison. But if someone else asked I said you lived in England. That's what Gary used to say."
"I don't mind that." It wasn't as though he wanted his kids to share his stigma. "What did you tell Tabitha?"
She froze, totally guilty. "Nothing."
Where was Elliot, the master child-interrogator when Toby needed him? Getting on with his life. "You told her something about why Harry doesn't live with us. I'd rather hear it from you than ask her." In fact, Toby would never, ever ask Tabitha.
Holly mumbled something, so Toby put a finger under her chin and lifted. She started again. "I told her we didn't want Harry because he was so ugly."
Toby took a long breath, and looked over the beach. Ten kids, all accounted for. "I wish the two of you could find a way to get along."
"I hate him."
"Don't say that, Holly." She wrinkled her nose and rolled her eyes, caring about as much for the power of those words as Toby would have when he was her age. "Family matters. I know you can't imagine it yet, but the two of you are going to be there for each other long after you've forgotten all the friends you have now. Your Uncle Angus and I weren't close when we were kids, but I don't know how I would have made it through my sentence without him keeping an eye out for you." Family was all Toby had left from his old life. The friends were long-gone.
"Harry isn't my family."
"Please, Hol. I've had time to try to make up all my mistakes with you. I love that we're so close. I want a chance to build a relationship like that with him."
"He has his own family. He likes them better anyway, so why do you need him?"
"Because it hurts. Because I love him, just like I love you."
"You shouldn't." She jumped to her feet. "He's horrible. He says horrible things. I'm nice and I take care of you and I never get in trouble or make you worry but you still love him more." She clutched her book to her chest and ran for Jonah and Marta's house, and Toby slumped back against the tree.
She had no idea how wrong she was. Loving her was easy, like breathing. Harry was a struggle, still that same protective devotion he'd felt for the newborn son in his arms, but mired in awkwardness and uncertainty. It didn't make it easier knowing Harry probably felt the same way about him.
Eventually the parents took their kids home, the party dissolved, and Toby and Marta and the staff packed up what was left, to carry back to the house. Harry was wired on sugar and attention, taking non-stop to Frances as he led the way. He'd told his friends Toby was dead.
Marta told everyone to pile everything on the front porch to sort later. Family presents, first. Toby was about to jump in, give his before Jonah and Marta made him an anti-climax, but with a grand flourish Marta told Harry to look out the back window, and it was too late.
Harry shrieked when he saw, and rushed out to the deck.
Toby followed the others outside to Harry's brand new windsail, watched Jonah extol all its specifications as Harry danced around, admiring it.
Toby had known this was coming - he and Jonah and Marta had talked out their gifts this time - but he still felt inadequate. Toby could have bought Harry a windsail. He certainly could have afforded it, if he'd known the first thing about buying them, if he'd known Harry was ready for the next size up, but he didn't know anything about windsailing. Besides, he'd never bought anything so extravagant for Holly.
When Harry eventually calmed down, Jonah turned him towards Toby. "Your father has something I think you'll like."
Toby led the way back inside and pulled his much-smaller gift from the shelf, holding his breath as Harry plonked on the living room floor and tore the rainbow of paper away. Harry was too young for this, but Toby hoped he would have the good manners to at least pretend he appreciated it.
Marta and Jonah stood back watching, and Gen's sister Rebecca was playing with Frances's hair. Toby noticed someone had herded Holly downstairs, and she was jammed in a corner, scowling.
Harry paused at the feminine, floral box, but lifted the lid and stared inside, silently.
Toby squirmed. This had been a stupid idea, but it was too late to change it now. He sat beside him. "All these things were your mother's." He lifted out the dusty old copies of 'Bridge to Terabithia' and 'Roll of Thunder, Hear my Cry' and 'Trixie Belden'. "These were her favourite books when she was your age. She kept them, used to say she was going to read them with all of you, one day."
This had been Elliot's idea, sort of. Back when he reminded Toby of what a mystery Gen must be to Harry.
Harry reached in and lifted out a pile of CDs, so Toby kept going. "That was her favourite music. She used to play that George Michael album over and over, until it drove me crazy." Toby had dug this stuff out of boxes in his mother's basement, and he'd put the CD on and the memories had rushed back. Genevieve eight months pregnant, dancing around the kitchen as she belted out 'Freedom 90', both of them laughing as she patted her huge belly and insisted that her son was going to know all the words to every song. It was hard to believe it was this same life.
Suddenly Harry was in Toby's lap, hugging him like he'd never hugged him before. Toby's breath rushed out like he'd been punched. He pulled Harry close, cupped a hand in his hair, closed his eyes. He'd got it right.
"That's a wonderful gift, Toby," said Marta. It was nice to hear but Toby had all the approval he wanted right here.
Harry's arms loosened and Toby made himself let go. Blinked a few times to get his composure, but Harry was glassy-eyed, as well. "Thanks, Dad."
"She loved you very much, Harry."
"No, she didn't."
It took a moment to pick up what Holly had said, and Toby and Harry both turned to stare at her. Holly was glassy-eyed too, and her mouth was trembling.
"That's a horrible thing to say," exclaimed Marta, at last.
Harry clutched George Michael close. "Shut up, Holly. She did!"
"That's just what adults say," snapped Holly. "When people are dead everyone pretends they were perfect. She didn't love you."
"Holly!" Toby, Marta and Jonah, all in one breath, but Holly ploughed on.
"She didn't want to read you those books! She dumped you at Aunty Bec's house while she locked herself in the garage and killed herself!"
Jonah rushed at Holly and Toby threw himself forward, catching his weight and shoving him back as Marta called Holly a nasty little girl. Jonah was red with rage, surging against Toby's fists and Harry was yelling that Holly was a liar as Holly yelled right back, everyone yelling so Toby yelled for Holly to go to her room. Holly screamed, "I hate her! If she loved us she wouldn't have killed herself!" and Harry was crying now, wailing, "Stop saying that! You're a liar!" and Holly snarled, "Don't you even know she killed herself?" and finally Toby turned and grabbed Holly and dragged her up the stairs himself.
The flight out to San Diego had been Holly's first plane trip: constant chatter and bouncing in her huge business-class seat and big-eyed wonder at take-off and landing. The flight back to New York was her first flight while not speaking to Toby. Cold silence and staring out the window. She'd turned around and walked herself onto the security line without a farewell or thank you to anyone while Toby squeezed Harry goodbye under Jonah and Marta's chilly stare.
Harry was the only one not angry with Toby, though he hadn't stopped crying since his birthday was left in ruins.
Toby didn't know what to do with Holly. She was starting middle school tomorrow. She should have been excited or nervous, but all she was was angry with Toby. He was angry with her, and he hated it.
She didn't look back until the attendant came around to offer drinks, so as soon as she had her glass of orange juice on her tray, Toby seized the opportunity. "Can we talk?"
She shrugged, and stared out the window at the clear sky.
Toby searched for a place to start. He hadn't spoken a word to her until he knocked on the door this morning to tell her they were leaving in an hour. He'd spent the night comforting Harry. Trying to make suicide make sense to a ten year-old.
Holly looked back over her shoulder. "Did you tell Pop you're gay?"
It made his breath catch, how casually Holly said it. Like it didn't matter to her one whit. This wasn't what he wanted to talk about first, but he'd take any opening she was willing to give him. "I think that conversation can wait a little longer."
"Are you embarrassed about being gay?"
"I'm not, no... Of course I..."' He fought the urge to check if half of business class was staring at him. "It's not like that. Your Nan and Pop and I disagree about a lot of things, but we have to get along. I have to choose my battles." He wished he had the luxury of calling Jonah an idiot and storming out. "I don't think you know how hard it is. Seeing someone else be the father I'm supposed to be. Negotiating with your Nan and Pop, trying to build something with Harry through phone calls and snatched weekends. You may not care about all that but I do. I know you were trying to protect me from Jonah, but it didn't help."
Her face twisted. "Do you lecture Harry about how he isn't helping?"
Well, no...
"Do you yell at Harry when he calls people names?"
Holly could be a hell of a lawyer. "I didn't take Pop's side that day, Hol. I backed everything you said; I just didn't call him an idiot."
She turned back to the window.
"Look at me."
She looked at him over her shoulder, after a long enough pause to prove it was because she chose to. "Harry says bad things about gay people."
Toby's stomach clenched. He'd been afraid of that. "He's nine. He doesn't know what he's saying."
"I didn't say bad things about gay people when I was a kid. And he's ten, now."
"Then we'll teach him better." Toby leaned in. "I'm sorry I gave your mother's things away without asking-"
"I don't want them. I don't care about her stupid books."
That had been the kindest explanation Toby had for Holly's behaviour, the excuse he offered to Marta and Jonah. "What you did to Harry yesterday... That was cruel."
"I didn't know he didn't know," she pouted.
At least that was something. "Neither did I. But even if he had known, that's a hell of thing to throw in someone's face. You of all people-"
"Why shouldn't Harry know? Why does he get to be a baby? How come everything bad happens to me, and he gets to live in some stupid fantasy world and then I'm the one who has to be nice to him? You don't get mad at him for anything! Why shouldn't I be horrible too?" She choked up and turned her back on him, shaking.
"Hol-"
"Leave me alone."
Toby wanted to push but his throat was closing around the words. Everything she said was fair, except for the focus of her rage.
Elliot wasn't going to greet him at JFK, this time. He wasn't going to tell Toby he was doing fine as a father. Toby needed to hear it from someone, even if it was a lie. Elliot wasn't going to kiss him or smooth aloe over his sunburn or even notice he'd been gone.
He'd lost Elliot and he was losing Holly and he'd never really had Harry in the first place. No matter how hard he tried, everything went to shit, and he was going to be alone in the end.
Elliot stared at the clock. Almost three. If he didn't get some sleep soon, he was screwed.
He hadn't slept last night, and he hadn't slept the night before, so there was no chance he was going to sleep tonight, with today's counselling failure chasing around his head. Elliot was forcing himself into therapy because he wanted to do something about his temper and all the frustrations of his job, and she'd kept digging into his parents like some Freudian cliche, asking about his kids, pressing about his personal life since Kathy split, getting far too close to Toby. The cloud that hung around Elliot had been with him long before Toby came along. Toby wasn't to blame for what was wrong with Elliot any more than Kathy was.
There was plenty to blame on Toby: just not that.
He'd asked her about sleeping pills, but he knew pills weren't a good idea when your job called you out at any hour of the night. She'd told him to try other things, first. Meditation, no thanks. He knew what he needed for a good night's sleep. He needed to go home. To check the locks on all the doors and windows, peek in on his sleeping kids, and crawl in with Kathy. At least that was how it used to work in his fantasy memories.
These days he couldn't even jerk off to memories of Kathy. He'd tried to go back to fantasising about women, but he found himself still picturing the only male body he knew.
A murderer. How could he still get hard for that?
Elliot threw off the covers and padded out to the main room, looked back and forth between the kitchen and the TV. He wasn't hungry, didn't want to watch TV, but he was sick to death of lying in bed. He wanted to go outside but he didn't want to go anywhere, wanted to wake up Olivia but he didn't want to talk, wanted to sleep but he was wired.
He'd thought about contacting that psychologist-nun Murphy told him about, but he'd had enough of all that. He didn't need some prison-shrink playing head-games on top of it all. The only person who could tell him what was going on in Toby's mind was Toby. Maybe not even him.
He went to the front window and pushed it wide open, leaned out on his elbows and drank in the cool air, felt it slip over his bare shoulders. The street below was dark and quiet.
If Toby killed Elliot's twin, had Elliot been some kind of redemption for him? A do-over with a second-rate copy?
Chris Keller was a narcissist and a monster, and he'd pursued Toby for months for forgiveness.
Toby had had freedom, and he'd broken parole for his lover, gone back inside. No wonder Harry didn't trust that he was home for good.
Toby killed - murdered - Chris. He'd shoved him over a balcony with a surge of passion that he'd never felt for Elliot.
After all those months together, Toby was a stranger.
A stranger who cared for Elliot in the end.
Elliot couldn't stop picturing the look Murphy had described afterwards. He'd seen glimpses of that Toby, eaten by guilt and loss. He'd glimpsed it in the diner window three weeks back, seen it in his own apartment two weeks before that. He wished he could stop worrying about whether Toby still thought about throwing himself over that balcony as well.
end chapter 35
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