Jeff Strand - Dweller

Never tell anybody about his friend. This was the hardest one. It was no longer a case of just wanting to share his cool discovery. He had a friend-his only friend-and didn’t dare tell anybody about it, for his sake and for Owen’s. Every time Mom or Dad asked what he was doing out in the woods all the time, he was tempted to tell the truth, but he never could. They were worried. They didn’t think it was healthy to spend this much time alone. If they knew the truth, they’d think it was even less healthy.

Those were the rules. Those were the dumb things he had to avoid. There was nothing on that list he couldn’t handle. And if he broke the rules…well, then he deserved whatever ghoulish fate was in store for him.

“We brought you a housewarming present!” said Mom, excitedly walking through the front door. She held a large present wrapped in shiny orange and green paper, big enough that she had to wrap her arms around it as if giving it a hug.

“What is it?” Toby asked as she set it on the otherwise bare dining room table. He always asked that when he got a present, which was silly because the whole point of having it wrapped was to hide the surprise until he opened it. It was similar to the way he said, “Hi, it’s me,” when he called his parents on the telephone. Who else would it be?

“You’ll have to open it and find out,” Mom said, as always.

While Mom and Dad watched, Toby tore off the wrapping paper. “A sewing machine?”

“That’s just the box.”

He ripped open the taped lid and looked inside. He pulled out another wrapped present, this one in shiny blue and purple paper.

“Obviously, your mother has a lot of time on her hands,” Dad said.

It took eight wrapped boxes to get down to the real present: a top-of-the-line coffeemaker that he absolutely loved. Although he’d bought Mrs. Faulkner’s house when she passed away, so Mom and Dad were right next door, and having his own coffeemaker now gave him one less reason to visit, so maybe it wasn’t such a great present.

While he was cleaning out his room, he’d found the undeveloped roll of film from when he’d taken pictures of Owen. He’d kept it hidden in his bottom drawer. The set of drawers went with him to his new house, and he left the roll of film where it was. He’d probably never take the pictures in to be developed, but he liked having it as a souvenir.

“Toby. Toby. Toe-bee.”

Owen growled.

“No, that’s not even close. Just say Toe. Toe.”

Another growl.

“Maybe I could learn to growl in your language.”

“That’s…that’s great news,” said Toby with much more enthusiasm than he felt.

“He won’t say anything, but your father is so excited he can hardly see straight.” Mom grinned. “He’s been hoping to get this job for going on six months now. It’s the opportunity we’ve been waiting for since before you were born.”

“Well, congratulations.”

“We’re going to miss you like crazy. You could come with us.”

“I think I’m kind of old to be moving across the country just to be close to my parents.”

Mom gave him a kiss on the cheek. “You’re never too old. It also works out great because your aunt Jean is out there, so we’ve got somebody to scope things out while we make the moving arrangements. It’ll be nice to see her more than once a year.”

“Yeah.”

“You look upset.”

“Well, I am, kind of.”

“It’s going to be hard, but it really is a great thing for your dad. And don’t worry, I’ll make him keep a bedroom open for you. And we both know he’ll complain about it, but I’m going to put up all of your posters and toys and everything.”

“You don’t have to go that far. Just put them up right before I get there and pretend you had the room that way.”

“Are you okay with this?”

“Yeah, sure, of course. It’s great news. Seriously.”

“We can’t wait.”

“Wow. Las Vegas. That’s…not close.”

“We’ll come back to visit. I promise.”

“Hi.”

Toby stood there until the awkward silence became unbearable. “Hi,” he finally repeated.

“Sorry. I thought you were talking to somebody else.”

“No, just saying hi.”

“Do I know you?” the woman asked. She took a long drag from her cigarette and blew the smoke out slowly.

“No, not yet. I was just seeing if you wanted to dance.”

“With you?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“Yes.”

“This is your first time talking to a woman, isn’t it?”

“No, not at all. I’m just, you know, nervous.”

“Well, I need a man who’s confident.”

“Oh. Okay. Sorry to have bothered you.”

“I wasn’t ruling you out. I was just saying that you have to be confident.”

“Do you want to dance?”

“You’re really not very good at this.”

“I guess not.”

“Practice. But on somebody else.”

Toby opened the February issue of Argosy magazine and flipped to the page he wanted to show Owen. “This kind of looks like you,” he said, holding up the Bigfoot photographs taken by Roger Patterson and Bob Gimlin. “His fur is a lot darker, and your face is different, and you’ve got claws, but…I don’t know, I think there’s a resemblance.”

No.

“You don’t think so?” Toby looked back and forth, comparing Owen to the photographs. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. This was in California, anyway.”

“I quit.”

“No, you don’t,” said Mr. Zack.

“I’m pretty sure I do.”

“Nope, you don’t. Do you know why?”

“Why?”

“Because you, Toby, are what is considered a ‘valuable employee.’ Therefore it’s not in my best interest to let you quit. And so we will begin what experts refer to as the ‘negotiation process,’ wherein I make a counteroffer and we go back and forth until a mutual agreement is reached. How does that sound?”

“It sounds like I need to watch your every move.”

“That’s a good tactic regardless of the situation. So you’ve asked for a ten percent raise. You knew coming in here that you weren’t going to get ten percent. I’ll offer you two percent.”

“I quit.”

“Seriously, I can give you five.”

“I deserve at least eight.”

“Can’t give you eight. Do you have a wife or kids to support that you haven’t told me about?”

“I’ve got a pet.”

“Cat or dog?”

“Neither.”

“I can give you six. And you’ll take six because you love working here and I love having you work here and it’s generally pleasant for everybody, and also because most other bosses are a lot meaner and less entertaining than I am.”

Toby thought that Mr. Zack often tried a little too hard at the “entertaining” part, but he was right, there were probably a lot worse bosses out there. At least Toby never got yelled at or pushed around here at the grocery.

“Seven.”

“Six and a smile.”

“Seven and a punch in the face.”

“Seven and a smile. See? That’s much better than being unemployed.” Mr. Zack patted Toby on the shoulder. “You’re a good kid. I’m surprised some fine young lady hasn’t scooped you up.”

“I don’t get out much.”

“Where have you been? Do you know how worried I was?” Toby demanded.

Owen just stared at him.

“Three days! Three days you’ve been gone! I thought you’d gotten hurt or moved away! I don’t expect you to write me a note, but you could have done something!”