Aw, fuck it! I'm starving. I'm ordering a pizza. He whipped out his cell phone and eagerly punched the number as his stomach rumbled. After all, he hadn't had anything but a Seven-up for the past two days.

When the delivery guy arrived, he was justifiably confused.

“Nineteen twenty-eight,” he quoted, extending the large pizza box.

Tobey gave him forty bucks and eagerly grabbed the box from the boy with the bleached blond hair.

“Need change?”

“No,” Tobey said quickly, taking his seat on the front step, peeling open the box. His mouth watered at the sight of the gorgeous spinach and tomato masterpiece before him. The smells were damn near intoxicating and suddenly he realized had never been so hungry in his entire life. His hand shook slightly as he took hold of the warm slice and he stuffed it into his mouth, letting a sigh of delight escape as he did so.

The delivery boy still stood before him, staring. “Dude—you locked out or something?”

“You could say that,” Tobey managed to say in between chomps.

“You should, like, call someone.”

“It’s cool. I’m fine.”

God, the pizza was good. He closed his eyes, savoring the taste.

“Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

Shit, why doesn’t this guy just go away?

“No,” he said flatly -- the hunger had made him a tad bit testy. . .

“Are you sure?”

“Look, what is this, twenty questions?”

The kid snapped his fingers. “Yeah I do! You’re the dude from that movie. . . um, about the orphans, right?”

Tobey wasn’t in the mood and looked up from his delicious meal pleadingly. “Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but—“

“The Apple House Rules — no, the Cider House Rules, that’s it! But you did pick apples, right? And there was that nasty-ass dude who got his daughter pregnant, what was his name?”

“Mr. Rose,” Tobey grumbled.

“Yeah! That’s it! My girlfriend loves that movie! Oh, and dude! What was it like working with Charlize Theron! God, that whole bed scene? Talk about a piece of ass! What’s she like in person . . .”

Tobey kept his glare on the beaming teenager before him. His nametag read “Dusty.”

“Dusty? I’ve had a really shitty day. Can I please just eat my pizza in peace, please?"

“Oh. . .” Dusty said, his face falling. “Right. Yeah, that’s cool, bro.” He turned to leave, but stopped short. “Could—could you at least sign this? I mean, it is my girlfriend’s favorite movie.”

Dusty extended a picture from his wallet: his girlfriend was beautiful. The two of them were embracing tightly, their smiles positively glowing.

Tobey couldn’t help but smile. “She’s lovely.”

“She’s amazing.”

Tobey conceded and signed his name on the back of the photo with a quick message.

“You’re lucky, Dusty,” he said as he handed the picture back.

“She’s my life, dude. Don’t know what I’d do without her.”

Tobey nodded. His voice was quiet when he finally spoke, “Don’t let her go.”

“Not a chance.”

He extended his hand, somewhat remorseful for having snapped at him so. Dusty shook it, smiled at his photo, thanked him again and then left.

Tobey sat—alone again. And somehow this time, he was colder than before he had even ordered the pizza.

* * *

Mr. Bowman

Horace Bowman was not in the habit of worrying. After 30 years of marriage, he left that to his wife long ago. Yet tonight was different. He moved the delicate lace curtain for the 100th time that evening to find the hunched figure on his stoop, eating what was that - pizza? he sighed. If nothing else the boy was determined. He turned back to stare at his paper and took a gentle drag on his pipe. Nothing like his paper and his pipe, still the thought of the boy nagged at him. The whole thing did not settle well, from what his wife had told him, Tobey didn’t deserve another chance to hurt his daughter.

In his mind, Natalia would always be the angel-faced cherub that came running to him long brown hair flying behind her. “Why is up so far away?” she’d asked him one day, green eyes wide with wonder. He smiled at the memories. That was his Natalia. His Natalia, hurt, the thought made his stomach turn. Before he really let the wave of anger overtake him, he reminded himself, she is a grown woman. A woman who had made her own decisions, as questionable as they may be.

He had never even considered that his eldest daughter would get into trouble, and now his baby. Sighing again, he’d always thought that when he had children he’d have all the answers, be understanding, and fix their problems. No such luck. He preferred to let his wife worry about such things, but tonight Natalia’s problems had become their problems

He turned on the TV and tried to ignore the steady coughing he kept hearing from the front porch. The miserable sound grated on his nerves. Something had to be done about this. Staring blankly at the screen he called to his wife, “Nora, come in here please”

* * *

Tobey

The sun had long ago sunk in the sky and darkness enveloped the small neighborhood. It was getting cold outside, quite cold. The shape of the enormous Jacaranda tree was outlined by the moonlight as Tobey huddled on the hanging chain swing. He couldn’t feel the hard wooden slats anymore; his ass was totally numb. Damn, this was uncomfortable, more so because he was still sore from his night in the SUV. Not as if he’d never spent a night in discomfort before. His memories drifted back to all the nights on an uncle’s couch, or on Grandma’s rock hard spare bed. That terrible night he and his mom were stranded with no money and they’d slept at the homeless shelter in the basement of a Catholic church. Yes, he’d know hardships and emotional pain, but nothing compared to what he felt right now. So close, his felt the pain constrict his heart, as he recalled how soft Natalia’s lips felt on his. How she felt so right there in his arms. It only made him more determined to do whatever it took to prove his love, to win her back.

Another rash of coughs shook his body; he had trouble catching his breath this time. He was getting another hell of a cold, typical. His stomach hurt as well, too much dairy, but he’d been so hungry! The cold slowly seeped into his finger and toes; winters were mild here. Not like Utah, boy, if he were in Utah, this certainly wouldn’t be working out. He smiled at that. Immediately Christmas came to mind, time with his family he cherished, his mom had always went all out. He may have not had new socks, but by God, he always got at least one “call your friend’s and brag” present. He hoped to have more Christmases like that, with Natalia. He already considered her family. God, I hope I haven’t screwed this up beyond repair. What if she doesn’t forgive me? His brow furrowed in contemplation.

“That swing can’t be comfortable,” the voice caused Tobey to start, and he fell from his seat.

Mr. Bowman almost laughed at the sight. The boy looked about 12 years old, sick, and cold. Hmmmm.

“So, you going to sit on my stoop all night long? I could call the Police you know,” he attempted to sound threatening.

Tobey was shocked by his fall and his throat hurt so bad now that it was difficult for him to reply, and God could you please punish me some more, he rolled his eyes skyward as if for an answer.

“I gotta talk to Natalia, sir,” he choked out finally.

“Why is that, haven’t you done enough damage?”

“Well, I have to explain…”

“Write a letter,” Mr.Bowman replied shortly, trying not to warm up to this engaging young man.

“No, that wouldn’t be enough, I have to tell her...”

Mr. Bowman looked expectantly at him, eyebrows raised, not giving him an inch.

“Haven’t you ever made a mistake?” Tobey’s large blue eyes bore into Harry Bowman, and he looked down.

“Well,” he sat down on the step and looked out into the yard. The sound of crickets and distant traffic filled the air. “That son, would be a long story, haven’t we all,” a short blast of laughter escaped him, Damn, he was starting to like this kid, but the look in Natalia’s eyes came back to him and his stern expression returned.

“I just want to show her, to tell her, you know?”

“Spit it out.”

“That I love her, always have, always will.” It was that simple. He did love her, and wasn’t that enough? Couldn’t love overcome, can this possibly work?

The words stayed in the air, their weight pressed upon Mr. Bowman. Unless this boy was the best actor in the world, his words rang true.

“In the end it’s not up to me, to believe you… or to kick your ass for that matter. That’s up to Natalia. I won’t interfere; one way or the other. Oh, and here’s a blanket. Mrs. Bowman thought that you could use it, you sound pretty bad.”

As if on cue, Tobey sneezed violently. His head pounded with the effort to stand up and take the out reached blanket.

“Thanks,” he settled back down on the swing, and Mr. Bowman went back inside.

This was going to be a long night.

* * *

After spending approximately 14 hours on the Bowman’s front steps, Tobey was finally ushered into the warmth of the house by Mrs. Bowman at the crack of dawn. By this time he was running a 102-degree fever and had kept Mr. Bowman up half the night with his sniffles, sneezes and coughs. Mrs. Bowman tucked Tobey into the spare bedroom and made him some tea.

Tobey dozed for a couple of hours out of sheer exhaustion, but had trouble leaving his thoughts of the previous couple of days. He had two major hurdles he needed to tackle and they both kept his tired mind rolling. The first of course was Natalia. It had gone pretty well yesterday – up to a point. At least she’d spoken to him, even if the cutting remark of "Now you know what it feels like" had stuck with him throughout the entire night, threatening to erase his mantra from his mind again. He realized now he should have better prepared himself for the anger she obviously felt for him. Who could blame her? He tried not to continually beat himself up over it, but the truth was that he felt this whole mess had been his fault. He never should have walked out on Nat that morning for one, and hell – he shouldn’t have even left her alone with Brittany and Courtney in the club that night. He knew they were nothing but trouble!

Of course the other thing on his troubled mind was the fact that Brittany and Courtney had clearly had a hand in the drugging, and together with the things Monica had told him, he felt that it was something they needed to tackle head-on. He knew Monica had not talked to Nat about seeing the girls in the café that day, so she had no clue that Monica had had her mini tape recorder in her bag and had taped the conversation she overheard. Tobey had listened to it the previous morning, and while it was full of static, Brittany could be heard clearly stating the obvious: she’d coerced Courtney into dropping Rohypnol and MDMA into Nat’s drink that night. Her motive, as she clearly stated on the tape, was that she simply wanted Tobey for herself. Never mind what he wanted, of course.

He had to tell Natalia about the events surrounding her drugging. He knew Brittany was scheduled to leave the country the day after Christmas, and he wanted Nat to consider pressing charges before that happened. He wasn’t too sure how she’d react to all this, but he was certain that if he could just get her to listen to him, he could convince her not only that she should be pro-active in the case of the drugging, but also of his feelings for her. If only she’d listen . . .

* * *

Natalia

It was barely eight AM and I had hardly been able to sleep, my mind filled with so many images, thoughts and emotions. I mulled it all over endless times in the night but when the sun came in my bedroom window, I was still confused – and still tired.

I wasn’t sure what to make of Tobey’s stubbornness. He’d spent the night out in front of my parents’ house, refusing to leave. I’d heard my mother tiptoe him into the spare bedroom next to mine at about six o’clock. He was coughing and sniffling - had probably caught himself a doozy of a cold bug. For some reason this perturbed me. Why did he have to be so weird?

I’d been over the events of the previous afternoon a million times. The last thing in the entire world I had expected to see was Tobey Maguire on my parents’ front lawn when I went to retrieve the day’s mail. On the one hand, there was nothing more in the entire world I wanted than to have Tobey back in my life. I yearned for that, I ached for it. But yet – something was just not right. I could feel it in the pit of my stomach; something about him made me – mad. I was mad he would show up out of the blue like that, after four and half weeks of ignoring my calls and not even trying to get in touch with me, he just showed up – unannounced.

All of my hurt had now suddenly turned into this anger at him, but worse yet were the images of the previous day that kept coming into my mind like uninvited guests. His puppy dog eyes swimming with tears filled my mind and I had to shake my head to make them go away. Next I’d see the sweet bouquet of daisies he’d held out to me, as if they were a peace offering – and that sad little stuffed pup. My mother had sat the little dog on the stand near my bed and I retrieved it now, felling its soft fabric and the smoosh of its little stuffed body. As I looked at it the memory of Tobey’s kiss came rushing back. His lips smooth and warm, like velvet . . .

Damn him! I thought and threw the toy dog to the floor.

I had tossed and turned wrestling with these feelings all night. Was I in love with him? No. I was mad at him! But I loved him. But I was so mad and hurt and - that was it, it was that hurt. It wouldn’t go away, and it was making me angry on top of everything else.

At eight o’clock I crawled out from under my covers and dialed Dr. Carroll’s office. I’d been seeing the counselor for a couple weeks and was by now very comfortable talking with her. She always put me at ease and helped me not only to understand my feelings – but also to accept them. I hoped and prayed she’d be in the office this early Saturday morning before the holidays.

The receptionist answered the phone and I explained I was a patient of Dr. Carroll’s. I was told they would not be making any more appointments until later in the week, could I come in on Thursday?

“No,” I said, “actually – could I just leave a message please? If Dr. Carroll has time to call me back . . . “

“What’s your name dear?”

“Natalia Bowman.”

“One moment,” she said and Muzak Christmas carols began playing in my ear.

“Hello, Natalia?”

“Dr. Carroll,” I breathed, relief filling me at the mere sound of her voice. “I’m sorry to bother you . . . “

“It’s no bother, Natalia,” she said soothingly. “You’re lucky you caught me, I’m flying to Tahoe with my family this afternoon. What can I do for you?”

I launched into the events of the past two days – how I’d come to stay with my folks and Tobey had shown up and sent me into this mess of confusion.

“I just don’t know what to do,” I said helplessly. “I can’t figure it all out, I’m mad and . . . “

I heard him sneeze then, just the other side of the wall from where I was.

“He stayed in my front yard all night,” I told Dr. Carroll. “He told my dad he wouldn’t leave till I talked to him!”

“Then maybe you should talk to him, Natalia,” Dr. Carroll said gently.

“But you see, I’m mad at him,” I said, my voice backing up with emotion. “I don’t want to be – I mean I do – but I love him . . . “

“Natalia, you can love someone and still be angry with them,” she said quietly. “That’s why it hurts so much – because you’re in love with him.”

Suddenly things kind of started to fall into place inside my head.

“Anger and love are closely related emotions, Natalia,” Dr. Carroll was saying. “It’s completely possible to feel both things at the same time.”

“I thought I was losing it,” I admitted to her.

She assured me as she had so many times in the past few weeks, that what I was feeling was normal. Her words and her voice calmed me and helped to clear my head. She encouraged me to think about what really mattered most and to examine my needs as well as my feelings. When we concluded our conversation, I thanked her again and again and wished her a happy holiday. I hung up the phone trying to summons the courage to do what I knew I needed to do.

I stepped out into the hallway outside my room and saw my mother disappear into the small spare room next to my own. I knew she had sequestered Tobey into the tiny bed that was wedged between her sewing machine and my dad’s tool chest. I could hear their voices but not their words. Tobey sneezed and interrupted the stillness in the hall where I stood.

Mama came out of the small room and smiled at me. “Good morning, Natalia,” she said, wrapping an arm about my waist. “This is a very stubborn boy you have. He caught himself a death of a cold last night pining for you out on the porch, kept your father awake with his sniffling and sneezing.”

“I’m sorry, Mama,” I said. “I was having a hard time . . . “

“I know dear,” Mama said, smoothing and kissing my hair. “It takes time, these things. Sometimes we can’t figure them out . . . ”

“Mama?”

“Yes, Natalia?”

“Thank you,” I said. “I’m glad you were nice to him when I couldn’t be.”

Mama hugged me. “He’s a sweet boy, Natalia,” she whispered to me. “He made some mistakes. But he loves you very much, honey.”

Tears burned my eyes as I nodded into her shoulder.

“Go on, Natty,” she patted my back. “He’s waited all night.” Mama gazed at me with her soft brown eyes and I could see that she knew how I felt about Tobey. It seemed he’d wormed his way into her affections with sneezes and sniffles overnight.

I bravely faced the doorway of the little room and peeked in. Tobey was curled up in the center of the small bed, blowing his nose. He looked small, even to me, and almost helpless lying there. He looked childlike, and I at once understood my mother’s growing affections for him. I tiptoed in and whispered his name.

Tobey turned and looked at me, then started to sit up.

“No,” I said, “lay down, you’re not feeling good.”

He sat up anyway, determination furrowing his brow, “Natty I – I – I AHHHH-CHOOOOOO!”

I passed him a box of tissues and he took a couple, meekly meeting my eyes. “Thank you,” he said.

“You sound terrible,” I scolded him. “Why didn’t you just go home last night?”

He met and held my eyes for the first time that morning, and shook his head determinedly. “No way,” he said, “I wasn’t about to leave you again.”

I opened my mouth to speak but suddenly didn’t know what to say.

“Please just listen to me, Nat,” he said, his stuffy head congesting his voice. “Please.”

“We definitely have a lot to talk about, Tobey,” I said, “but I don’t think I’m ready . . . “

“Natalia,” he said, taking my hand in his, “if you will just listen to what I have to say, let me say it, then I will go if that’s what you want. I really will. But I have a lot to tell you, so please – please just listen to me.”

Tobey regarded me with such determination in his voice – a determination that was belied by his weary face and tired eyes – that I was persuaded simply by the fact that I realized then he’d most likely slept very little, if any, in the past 48 hours. What on earth was driving him so hard? My mother’s voice echoed in my head: “He loves you very much.” As countless emotions twisted at my heart, I told Tobey to proceed, and he began to talk.

* * *

“So you mean . . .Brittany and Courtney really did do this to me?” I asked. “I’m not going crazy?”

Tobey shook his head. “Monica heard her Nat, she has it on tape,” he explained again. “When I stopped by there yesterday, it was pretty clear they’d been involved. And then when that Derek guy called . . . “

I winced at the name; it evoked so many emotions of shame and guilt.

Tobey took my hand. “It was very wrong of me not to listen to you that morning, Nat,” he admitted. “And I really should have known better than to leave you alone with those two in a club. But I never thought they’d sink this low . . . “

I shrugged, trying to be indifferent. “Well, they have,” I said. “Not a lot that can be done now.” I made a move to get up from the bed.

“Nat, there is,” Tobey said. “Please. Listen to me.”

“Tobey, I just . . . “

“We have a lot of evidence, Natalia,” he said. “You could press charges.”

“Oh, no way . . . !” I started to protest.

“Nat, think about it!” he urged. “Who’s to say they won’t go and do this again to someone else?”

I thought a moment, thinking how horrible that would be – some other poor girl going through what I had. Just the thought brought tears to my eyes.

“I don’t think I could,” I admitted.

“I do,” Tobey said quietly. “I believe you can do anything you set your mind to.”

His confidence in me struck a chord – it was a confidence I’d lost in myself. The tears welled in my eyes and I allowed Tobey to take me in his arms.

“I’ll do anything I can for you, baby,” he said. “You just have to let me.”

“I just haven’t – felt like myself,” I said through the tears. “Not since this happened.”

“I know,” he said and kissed my forehead, rubbing my back and my arms, helping me to relax. “But the old Nat is still here, she just needs the courage to come back.”

It was as if he’d read my mind and even my heart. I knew then that regardless of the anger I still had, nothing could take away my love for him.

“I don’t know, Tobey – it scares me,” I admitted.

“Of course it does,” he reasoned. “But you have a lot of people behind you on this, you’re not alone.”

“What do I have to do?” I asked.

“Go to the police station and file a report,” he said.

“What if they don’t believe me?” I asked. “What if they do some sort of investigation? What if the papers get ahold of this and you’re on TV everywhere . . . “

“Well that’s something you need to think about,” he said. “I’ll do anything for you, Nat. But if my name is connected to this, there will be publicity. If you want to avoid that then you’ll need to do this on your own, my name cannot be connected in any way.”

I gazed at Tobey now, simply frightened at the idea of facing Brittany and Courtney on my own.

“Whether or not my name is on some piece of paper,” Tobey was saying, “I’ll still be there for you of course.”

“Can you go with me?” I asked softly. “To the police?”

“Of course,” he said.

“I’ll think about it,” I told him.

“She’s leaving the country in four days Nat,” he said. “I think it would be a good idea for you to think quickly.”

“OK,” I sighed. “I’ll try. Why don’t you try to rest a little, and I’ll consider going down there this afternoon?”

A look of relief came over Tobey’s face. “You mean it?” he asked.

“I mean that I’ll think about it, yes,” I said.

“Could you think about not being mad at me anymore too?” he asked, then sneezed.

I rolled my eyes. “You need to rest, Tobey,” I said. “You sound really sick. Maybe you need to go to the doctor later.”

“I’ll be fine,” he said, his voice congested and hoarse.

“Get some rest, and I’ll come to check on you later,” I said.

“OK,” he said, lying down.

As I pulled the covers up to his shoulders and tucked him in, I was aware that edges of my anger were softening. I smoothed Tobey’s hair back and lightly kissed his warm forehead as his eyes fluttered closed. Poor thing – he’d spent the whole night outside on my front porch because he loved me.