1988
“Aw, c’mon, Garrett! Why would you do that to me?”
“What’s wrong?” asked Sarah, peeking into the bathroom.
“He pooped on the new diaper while I was changing it! That had to be on purpose. There’s no way he just happened to be about to go when I changed the diaper.”
“You don’t think so? He poops eighty-five thousand times a day. Why wouldn’t one of them be while you’re changing the diaper?”
Toby recoiled. “Have you ever smelled anything so foul? Maybe he has some sort of digestive problem or something. That can’t be natural.”
“You’re acting like your own feces have a flowery aroma.”
“I’m not sayin’ my poop don’t stink. I’m saying that his poop smells worse. Just come in. Come closer.”
“No, I’m fine out here.”
“It’s like, I’m worried it’s going to dissolve through the sink. It’s that nasty. I think it’s a specially formulated kind of baby food designed by the government to keep people from having more kids.”
“It’s not working. I’m pregnant.”
Toby froze. “What?”
“Kidding.”
“I’ll fling some of this at you.”
“Then I’ll be leaving. I’m proud of you. You’re a good daddy for facing the stinky poo menace.”
“Do you remember that time in our life, long ago, when we talked about other things? I don’t recall the subjects, exactly, but I have this vague recollection that there actually existed conversations that weren’t related to diaper contents.”
“No idea what you’re talking about. Sorry.”
“Okay, this is going to be a challenging concept for you to grasp, but I need you to work with me.” Toby held up the jumbo-size bag of beef jerky. Owen sniffed the air and reached for it.
“No, no, not yet. What we’re going to discuss today is ‘rationing treats.’ There’s no way I’ll be back here for at least a week, and I want you to have some tasty snacks while I’m gone, so you need to learn how to not eat this entire bag in one gulp. What I’m going to do is set the pieces of jerky in different places, and when you feel like a treat, you’ll pick a single piece and enjoy it. If you gobble it all down, there won’t be any treats for a few days. Do you think you can handle that idea?”
The lesson in rationing treats was a failure.
1989
“Toby! I can’t believe it!”
“Mr. Zack! Hi! How are you enjoying retirement?”
“Never worked so hard in my life. Janet has me remodeling the entire house, now that I’m a lazy bum and not working for a living.” Mr. Zack cooed at Garrett in Sarah’s arms. “Wow, he’s a handsome little lad, isn’t he?”
“You say that like you’re surprised,” Sarah said with a grin.
“Nothing surprises me less! So, Toby, I keep checking the newspapers for you!”
“Yeah, I’m still working on it.”
“What was that one you were in? The Cocktail?”
“The Blender. It ended up going under.”
“Did you get your ten bucks?”
“Five bucks. No.”
“You keep working at it. Those successful youngsters, they have meltdowns. When you make it big, it is going to be the sweetest fruit you’ve ever tasted, and you’ll be able to give your lovely wife and your lovely son a life of luxury.”
“We do okay,” said Sarah with a smile. “He’s doing great at the newspaper, and I’ve started selling songs.”
“Songs? You sing?”
“I write them.”
“That’s great! Anything I would’ve heard?”
“Do you listen to folk music?”
“No, I sure don’t, but I’ll start. Hey, I think your son is about to spit up, so I’m going to bid you adieu, but it was great talking to you.”
Garrett puked all over Sarah’s shirt.
Larry and Nick stayed away. Toby thought about them a lot, but in the past tense.
“Like that-just like that!” Sarah urged as Toby thrust into her. “Oh, yeah, that’s perfect-right there-oh, yeah, right there-don’t stop-oh, God, I’m gonna come-if the baby doesn’t cry I’m gonna come-!”
“Dear Mr. Florren…”
Toby crumpled up the rejection letter and threw it against the wall. “It’s one r, asshole!”
1990
Owen lay on the floor. His fur was moist and his eyes were glassy.
“Do you think it’s…I don’t know, the flu or something?” Toby asked. “Do you get the flu? I don’t know what to do here, Owen. It’s not like I can call a vet. Do you feel really bad?”
Yes.
“Have you thrown up?”
No.
“I’m going to make some calls and find out what I should do. I won’t say who I’m calling for. I’ll just, I don’t know, find out what they would do for a gorilla with your symptoms.”
Stay.
“I’ll stay, but I can’t stay for very long. You know I have to get back. You’re not dying, right? If you’re seriously ill, I’ll stay and see what I can do, but I don’t think you look that bad.”
Though he tried to hide it, Toby felt queasy. How long did forest monsters live? Owen had a lot of white and gray hair now, but so did Toby, and he planned to be around for at least another half century. Owen couldn’t be dying, could he?
“On a scale of one to ten, how bad do you feel?”
Sick.
“I know that. Give me a number.”
Sick.
Toby sighed. “Okay. I’ll stay with you.”
“Where were you?”
“I lost track of time.”
“How do you lose track of time when you’re outside? It’s dark out!”
“I walked farther than I realized, and I turned back when it got dark. What’s the big deal?”
“I was worried, that’s the big deal! I don’t like you wandering around the forest in the daytime, much less at night. What if you got hurt?”
“I didn’t.”
“I know you didn’t. But what would happen to Garrett if you did?”
“You’d write a hit single about your loss and make him rich.”
