Toph's Empty Year - 1. Late August

Employment.

I thought it was a significant accomplishment anyway. Oh, you thought I meant getting a job, didn’t you. No, getting the job was easy. Pissing off my parents, family and friends, all at the same time, now that was a triumph!

The only problem was re-ordering my schedule. Go to bed at eight. Wake up at noon or one. Hide until dinner. Paint after dinner. Leave for work by 10:45. Work 11:30 to 7:30. Rinse, repeat.

Third shift is what they call it. Midnights. The Vampire Shift. It’s when I have to be awake. The store sleeps. The owner sleeps. The salespeople sleep. The customers sleep. Toph is awake. Toph makes everything right for the day people. Toph cleans things, polishes things, neatens things and tags all the new merchandise. Toph departs as the day people arrive. We never speak. We never nod. We do not recognize the other exists. I am invisible.

The store is old-fashioned, closing on Sunday. Saturday night is my day off.

It’s not a bad job. It’s not a difficult job. The pay is better than I expected, probably because of the shift. A good thing too. Otherwise my car would be difficult. Insurance, gasoline, maintenance, and the occasional repair. Nine year old cars need lots of repairs. My car feeds the job. My job feeds the car.

A gustatory stasis.

What little left over went into savings. I was not sure why. There must have been something worth saving for, but it hadn’t occurred to me yet.

It was slightly after the middle of the month, Friday, August seventeenth to be exact, when things started going south with my friends. I had only recently become employed. Most people didn’t know. Let me rephrase. Nobody knew.

It began when my phone chirped. It was afternoon, my hiding-out time. The display showed: Nico – usually a pleasant surprise.

“Toph? It’s Nico.”

“Hey man, where are you?”

“Home. What are you doing tonight?”

“Working.”

“Really? Bummer. How about tomorrow?”

“My day off. Wanna do something?”

“For sure. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Wait till noon. I work all night.”

“Holy shit! What the fuck kind of job is it?”

“Mine.”

“Okay. Well, I’ll call you tomorrow!”

Nico, or more formally, Nicolas Popendropolis, was as close to a best friend I had in high school. He’ll be a freshman at some expensive East Coast Ivy, starting next week or something. Daddy owned half the land in our suburb of Floria, or as we always referred to it: Euphoria.

Oh, and no, we weren’t that kind of friends. Nico was straight. He was a great friend and tennis teammate. I wondered what he had in mind for tomorrow. He was never much of a drinker, but I hadn’t seen him this summer. He had been getting accustomed to breathing the rare air of America’s highest and snootiest school. Who knew what he was into by now.

Another chirp. Austin. WTF! Why all these calls?

“Toph? It’s Austin.”

“Hey man, where are you?”

“Home, doofus. Vacation’s over. Time to get ready for Brown.”

Crap! They were all going to be back, getting ready for college.

“Oh yeah, I sorta lost track.”

“Aw, Toph, I feel bad. You lost track of me! Now get the fuck back on track and let’s do something!”

“I work every day but Saturday.”

“Jesus, you should have gone to school instead of taking a gap year. Working sucks!”

“Thanks for the news flash, Austin.”

“Toph, we’ve gotta get together! My cock was leaking all the way home!”

“Calm down boy. Haha. Give me a call tomorrow afternoon and we’ll figure something out. Don’t call in the morning, it’s when I sleep.”

“What?”

“Um, yeah. I work midnights.”

“Holy Fuck, Toph! OK, I’ll call tomorrow afternoon. Holy Fuck!”

Austin was my one constant throughout high school. The only person who knew I was gay and made sure to keep us satisfied. We weren’t boyfriends or anything. He had a few others he played with, but I didn’t want to go there. I figured every additional person who knew, would be an additional chance the information would leak home. It simply could never happen. Not even now.

You may be confused about my friends returning home before going to school. You need a bit of background. Euphoria is a privileged town. Not everybody can live here. True, not everybody can afford to live here. But even if they could, not everybody can live here, if you get my drift. All real estate is bought and sold through Papa Popendropolis, and he is our Heimdall, our gatekeeper.

It is tradition the young travel to exotic beaches and other worthy destinations every summer, usually returning the middle of August. This year, of course, my people, recently graduated from high school, are returning to prepare for the mass exodus to all the shining universities to which they feel entitled. Nico had to forgo the beaches because his school was so elite, he needed to be prepared. Think of it as an obedience school for preppies.

Before you think poorly of me, I have never bought into this shit. This was my town. It was full of preppies and yuppies, actually drowning in all the pees one can imagine. I hated it. I have always hated it. I didn’t participate in anything and never have – except for tennis. My only weakness in this privileged life was tennis. It was something I got into when I was a tiny boy, and I loved it. I’m certain it was the only reason I had any friends in high school. The good news is they long since gave up trying to convert me. While they always invited me to participate in whatever, at least they accepted my “I’m sorry” as a final answer. But they continued to ask. I guess it was the polite thing to do. We have all been taught impeccable manners. We are Euphoric.

Enough hiding. It was closing in on dinnertime. The period to shower and dress. Yes, of course, we dressed for dinner. Dinner was always at 6:30 sharp.

Dinner had moved from being uncomfortable and boring most of my life, into awkwardness now I’ve decided further schooling was not my thing, at least not yet – at least it’s what I lead them to believe. I’ll need to think of something else for next year, I guess.

“Good evening, Mother and Father. I hope your day was pleasant.”

“Thank you, Christopher. Actually, I have obtained a new supervisor.” Mother is head of the accounting department at England Inc. I didn’t know or care what they did or made or brewed, but I always thought the juxtaposition of “England” and “Inc.” was subtly witty.

“I have every expectation you will train him properly in the requirements incumbent on being your boss, Mother.”

“The only problem, he is very young, not yet thirty.”

“What can old England be thinking? The boy’s probably fresh from college. What could he possibly know of the world of business?” Father, of course. Next it would be my turn. Dinner was like a well rehearsed play.

“Christopher, I hear you’ve found employment for this idiotic gap year. When do you begin?”

“Yes, Father, I have. Actually, I began Monday.”

“How could you have? Elizabeth tells me you’ve slept until noon every day! Are you lying to me?”

Elizabeth was our maid. I should have figured she’d rat me out. We never got along. I would need to plot a suitable revenge.

“Not at all, Father. I did not sleep-in every morning. Mornings are now my time to sleep. You see, my job is during the overnight hours.”

“Oh, well, that explains it. There had to be an explanation. I knew you’d never lie to me.”

End of the ‘Christopher’ topic for today. I was pleasantly surprised at its harmlessness. Father and Mother moved on to more important things, like the charity raffle for brokers hurt in the latest Wall Street downturn. They never asked where I worked or what I did. It was all irrelevant and unworthy of their time and consideration. The only thing ‘idiotic’ was the gap year. Since not hustling off to climb the League’s Ivy is out of their knowledge set, it must be idiotic.

. . . . . . . .

When Saturday afternoon finally claimed me, so did Nico.

My phone’s vibration caused my eyes to pop open. One o’clock sharp. A decent night’s sleep.

I croaked, “Hey, Nico, what’s up?”

“You sound asleep. Did I wake you?”

“No – yes – it’s OK. Time for me to be awake. We have plans?”

“You’re going to join us all at Wild Wings – four-thirty. We’ll all catch up and let the evening reveal itself as it evolves.”

By “us all” Nico was referring to Austin, Kayla, Jacob, Vivvy, Tyler and Taylor. The crowd who insisted I was a member too – Nico's crowd. It was the crème de la crème of our high school. It was ironic they adopted Toph.

I checked my text notifications. They were ‘us all’ represented. Euphoric and Efficient, weren’t they?

I didn’t bother to read their crap. It was only going to be: ‘I’m involved in this amazing and important [ fill in the project name ].’

The implication was plain. ‘Toph wasn't doing shit.’ ‘He was working the Vampire Shift.’ I didn’t need any more crap. Didn’t I already get enough from my family?

I needed to call Austin.

“Hey, Toph, you got the imperial summons by now, huh?”

“Indeed. Now make my day by telling me we are not going to be a component of their evening, as it evolves.”

“You bet your sweet ass we’re not – literally.”

Thank God. Austin could have as much of my sweet ass as he wanted. It’d been a dry summer for Toph.

After cleaning up, deciding to not shave, announcing my not-at-home dinner plans to Mother. Avoiding each probing question and dodging every pointed barb, I escaped.

I needed to move out of that house.

I’d like to tell you Wild Wings was a warm reunion, with my high school pals reconnecting and promising lifelong friendship. I’d like to, but I can’t. OK, I’ll be honest. I didn’t want it to happen either. Excellent news! It’ll be the last Wild Wingding involving Toph.

It wasn’t a complete loss though. To my delight, Austin whispered that his house stood empty this weekend. It was about six somethingorother when he gave me the sign. We’d both had enough soda, grease and bullshit. We made our excuses, as usual. It was normal for Austin and I to abandon these little get-togethers. They all knew why, no doubt. Everyone was brilliant, of course. Everyone also possessed impeccable comportment. The situation was accepted and ignored. We were Euphoric, after all.

I was already quite hard by the time Austin closed his door. It was long past the time to fuck, methinks. Austin believed it too. We never kissed much. As I said, we were not boyfriends. Austin and I did kiss that night. Immediately, immensely and protractedly. We kissed as though we knew it was the last time we’d ever be together, which we did.

Our lovemaking, and that’s what it was that night, became a sweet recapitulation of all the themes we had ever composed throughout high school. The first one was slow and gentle, with an incremental crescendo, culminating in a loud climax. Austin bit my shoulder as he erupted, filling me – at the exact moment I came in the most satisfying orgasm of my life. Round One.

A long conversation and a couple beers later, Round Two was the opposite. I was loose and slippery. Austin was aroused and hungry. The sex was powerful and active, by both of us. I met every one of his thrusts with one of my own. I’m surprised we were able to last so long, but the physicality was impossible to go on forever. This time I came first, it was simply too excruciatingly intense. A minute later Austin followed, forcing himself as deep into me as he’s ever been.

This time after sex, it was nap time for Austin. I decided to unload his offerings and take a shower while he slumbered, totally at peace. I could not sleep. It would interfere with my schedule. Remember, eight o’clock was bedtime for Toph. I discovered some magazines in his living room and another beer in the fridge. Returning to Austin’s room, I read until he stirred at about three.

Three – haha. Round Three. Der Abschied. The Farewell. Needy; sad; grateful; concluding. When Austin came his final time, I did not. Austin’s afterglow began to entice him back into slumber. I kissed him gently and wished him well at Brown. Within a few minutes, my beautiful Austin was asleep. He was the boy who scratched my itch for four years.

I left.

I left him behind.

I left my previous life behind.

The bulletin from destiny was loud and clear.

I needed to move.

I needed to leave my Euphoria behind.

I needed to find another gay boy.

The search began soon after returning home. Scrutinizing the Sunday paper classified section, I had a list of six leads. But it was eight A.M., time for sleep. These numbers would be called as soon as I awoke.

. . . . . . . .

Sunday afternoon was contact time for Toph. Realizing I needed to keep my job, all the contacts were nearby, but in different suburbs. There was no Euphoria in my future.

Five dead ends. Too expensive, no teenagers, already rented. Crap, I wasn’t looking for an apartment on my own! These ads were for someone to share a place. Figuring number six would end similarly, I only half-heartedly inquired. Luckily it was a pretty young – relatively speaking – dude named Anders. He was already renting this three bedroom apartment in New Glory, a suburb two away from Euphoria, but in an arc around the city. From his location, my work in the city would be approximately the same distance as from my parents' place.

Well, this was Anders' explanation.

“My third renter accepted a job offer in another state. I’m pretty eager to rent, Christopher, but I don’t want a cat lady or some stuffy old goat who’s gonna complain every time the music’s a little loud, if you follow. My other apartment mate completely agrees.”

“Anders, there are no cats or goats with me or will there ever be. Better yet, I work the midnight shift. You guys can howl all night for all I care. I sleep from eight in the morning until noon or so. I imagine you don’t usually party during those hours.”

“Chris, dude! I can’t believe how perfect you are! Blake and I both work all day. You can sleep in peace! How old are you anyway?”

“I’m nineteen.”

“Holy shit! But no, it’s OK. It’s not a problem at all. Only a little younger than I anticipated, but it’s fine.”

“Anders, I don’t drink or smoke, but I don’t mind if you do. My father smokes cigars. I’m used to the smell. I don’t have many friends, therefore no parties, but I don’t mind if you do. I’m really pretty invisible.”

“Shit, Chris, you’re too good to be true.”

After minor haggling over the rent, I decided it could be afforded on my take-home pay. I didn’t even bother to inspect the place. After all, how bad could it be? It was only a place to sleep. I’d be able to heat up a can of soup for my supper, eat some snacks and I would be good to go. The room would be available September first, which will give me time to move the little stuff I own in a couple of trips. I’d break the good news to my parents after I was all moved in. By Labor Day, I would be a shiny New Gloryite. My roommates were Anders Martin, twenty-five and Gary Blake, a couple years older. They would be invisible to me most of the time. After all, they were day people.

. . . . . . . .

By the end of the following week, I had taken care of all the particulars required before my move.

Monday. I paid a visit to The Floria Bank and Trust, closing my account. I was presented with a cashier’s check for $7326.91, my life's savings. A quick drive ended with my discovery of The New Glory Community Credit Union. I am now a proud credit union member, account balance: $7326.91. All available to me except for $5, which is my share. I was now a shareholder in a financial institution. Father would be proud if he ever knew, which, of course, would never happen.

Wednesday. I knew where my important papers were kept. My father was very organized, his single good trait. In the lower file cabinet was the Christopher folder. In it was everything significant, from birth certificate through my final report card. It now lived in Toph’s room, ready to escape with him.

Friday. Last on my list was a phone. My current phone was still on my parents' plan. There was not a single contact I had any future interest in. I purchased a track phone. I now had a different number and an eager new phone. I didn’t intend to use it much though.

Labor Day would be Liberation Day. It was on September third this year. It meant I had both Saturday and Sunday nights off. The ideal weekend to quietly move my stuff to New Glory. My entire family would be here. The perfect setting for my farewell address would be our annual Labor Day dinner. This one was formal. Even the Chesterboys must dress black tie.

. . . . . . . . .

Friday, August thirty-first. Dressing for dinner, I recognized his voice. Shit, I had no luck.

Clarence, my twenty-three year old youngest older brother must have driven in from college to get an early start on a drunken weekend. It was Friday night of the Labor Day weekend. He’d be going out with his friends tonight.

“Well Chris, I see you finally got up. Is it all you do? Lie around all day? Doesn’t it get to you? I mean, you used to be a popular kid. A regular jock. What happened? Have you quit life?”

And, as expected, Father joined in their comedy routine.

“You claim you don’t know what you want but, Christopher, at least go to a state college. You won’t discover anything sleeping all day and working all night.”

Busying myself with the dinner plate and sipping from my glass of water, I decided to talk to Mother. “How is the new supervisor working out? You were a little worried about him. Have you trained him yet?”

“He’s alright. Everyone has their own way of doing things. He’s no exception.” Which was unmistakably Mother-code for ‘I can't control him.’

“You said he was young, how old is he?”

“He’s only twenty-eight.”

“What? He must be Mr. England’s son.”

“Not quite. The boss doesn’t have children. Garrett is his nephew. I guess they’ve always been close and he’s been working for his uncle in the company’s other location. He’s been learning the ropes since he was fifteen. I guess he’s being groomed to eventually take over. I believe he's the only heir.”

Father couldn’t resist, of course. “See Christopher! That boy has some gumption and it’s going to get him far. You should learn from him.”

“What, learn to pick a rich uncle?”

“You simply don’t get it Christopher.” My esteemed, scholarly, youngest older brother was bestowing his wisdom upon me before going out to get fucked-up tonight.

Only three more days.