Toby woke up on the couch, trying desperately to get rid of the hangover that had overtook him somewhere in the night. He didn't remember much of what had happened the night before- he'd made sure the whiskey had done its job. At first he didn't even realize that he was on the couch until he flung his arm down and his hand hit the floor.
That's odd. I haven't slept on the couch since she was here.
And there were many sleepless nights on the couch. It didn't seem to matter what he had done. Maybe he had come home from work a little late without calling, or he didn't have an extra thirty dollars to give her for the week. Somehow it was his fault. It was always fault. And he accepted that. And he always would have. He never would have left her, though sometimes he thought about it. Sometimes he would actually stay later at work than he had to, rather than to go home to her. And he hated himself for it. So it was totally his fault that she left.
It worked better that way, if he were to blame for everything. Better not make waves. It worked that way at the office, especially when Michael yelled at him. Toby knew he could probably get Michael fired if he wanted to, if not for harassing him than for all of his other comments to his employees, but instead he did nothing. He did nothing while Michael constantly berated him, humiliated him in front of his peers and friends, laughed at his troubles and trials, mocked him, questioned his authority, and generally just made a fool out of himself making sure that Toby was as unhappy at work as possible. But Toby did nothing. He learned a long time ago that words couldn't hurt, could they? No. As long as he did his job then he didn't have to worry about Michael.
And after losing Sasha, his beloved daughter, Michael didn't seem so bad anyways. He almost welcomed going to face him instead of being all alone in his home on the weekends. Why did he decide to go out the night before anyways? Instead of being miserable he was sick and miserable. And lonely. That much was a given. But he had learned you didn't have to be alone to be lonely. He learned that at work- and at home.
Toby wasn't going to lie. If it so happened that he met a female last night, than so be it. He usually didn't do that sort of thing, he was more of the slow romancer type of guy but last night he really could have used the companionship of a woman. He always heard his friends talking about friends with benefits. One of those would be nice right about now. But he wasn't that type of guy.
Who was he anymore? These days he couldn't tell you. He'd given up his dreams to be with Cathy, a sacrifice he gladly made, and got settled into the HR profession. That wasn't his passion. He didn't wake up one day and say "this is what I want to do for the rest of my life." But it provided for his wife, and he liked that. He liked being needed. And Cathy needed him. She quit her job after Sasha was born. Times were tough but they managed. He made sacrifices. He had only a few suits that he wore to the office. It would have been nice if he could have bought a new one, but that didn't matter. His family had enough, and that was all that mattered. Let Michael crack on his suits all he wanted. Sasha was a very happy girl, and that was all Toby cared about.
And now here he was, miles away from his daughter. Suddenly it dawned on him how he got back home last night. Michael. Oh boy. He saw him at his weakest, and now he had to face him on Monday. Maybe, Toby thought, he could just quit. Costa Rica wasn't that bad. No one really missed him when he was gone. It was nice there. Hot, but nice. And he could always buy himself an air conditioner.