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Tears for Toby

Written by Caleb Wilson

Part 8

In Conclusion

We all trooped back to the changing rooms and I had just finished dressing when Toby walked in. There was silence for a second then the whole team merged on Toby and he disappeared from my view. I waited for a moment then the bodies parted and he walked towards me.

"You coming home with us?" he asked or are you returning with the team.

Before I could answer Nick Price was yelling go home with him Joey he's better looking than us, and there were roars of approval from the rest of the team. I looked over to Coach Findlay who gave me the nod and I walked out with Toby by my side. As we reached the door Jimmy Glover yelled out "Bring Toby with you next season when we play he's good luck."

Johnny Byrne shouted out, "Don't believe him Joey he fancies Toby," and there was more laughter.

"See you at school on Monday guys" I called with Toby also waving his hand.

Bye Joey, Bye Toby, vibrated around the dressing room, and we were outside heading towards dad, and Paul.

That night as we lay in bed facing each other Toby leaned forward and kissed me gently on the lips saying, "I'm so glad you were accepted by the boys' in your team even before you won the game."

We didn't fight that night, just lay in each other's arms content to feel the nearness of the other, so Paul had a trouble free sleep.

At 29 I'm a successful chartered accountant with quite a successful business helping the filthy rich to reduce the amount of taxes they have to pay to the state. I watch a lot of football on the telly but after school never played it again.

Toby who I might hasten to say is at this moment giving me the evil eye, as he's waiting impatiently for me to finish this narrative.

He finished his contribution some time ago, was a very successful actor. And then he gave it all up just to stay at home. I think he got fed up with all the attention directed at him and the continuous struggle to fight of the attentions of both male and female fellow thespians trying to get inside his trousers.

I've left that bit of whatever you want to call it as an indication of what happens when an irate lover gets fed up of waiting and pulls you off your chair with your hands still on the keyboard.

Now to continue before I was so rudely but nicely interrupted. Paul at 22 is at university and invariably stays over during his breaks. He still cracks the odd remark from time to time are we still fighting in bed. To which we respond does he and his fiancé fight in bed which makes him blush.

Danielle at 17 will be sitting her A levels in a years time and the boys hang around her like flies around a jam pot.

Ooops! Have to go someone has just come down and is giving me that look again.

Bye all.


I'm having the last say in this narrative we're just going up to do some more fighting.

Some other time.


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