Before my accident Elzabe Zietsman and I put on a cabaret in which we sang and performed short sketches. In one, I told the audience a true story about me and Tobin Shostakovich. Great name, huh? Tobin Shostakovich! But he was known as Toby or Tobe. If I had had my way, he would definitely have remained Tobin. Admit that has a far more romantic nuance to it!
I was ten years old and Tobin Shostakovich was twelve. He was our neighbour and what a neighbour! Toby was already starting to broaden out in all the right places. He was tanned this golden brown and his voice was starting to break. That was something I, at the advanced age of 10, found tremendously attractive.
We were sitting round the side of our house, well out of the way of any prying adult eyes. Tobe turned to me and said in a very nonchalant manner: “Hey…do you want to smooch?”
The Gobstopper that I was sucking was just about swallowed whole. “Smooch?” I squeaked.
“Yeah, you know…..do ya..er…want to smooch?” he repeated.
I did know! I had seen people smooching in movies and it looked…it actually looked…cool! The womens lips always looked full and succulent. Certainly not stained by Gobstoppers! I took mine out and threw it into a nearby bush. “Okay, let’s…let’s smooch!” I finished a little breathlessly. After all this was a totally new experience for me. I had never been smooched before! We were sitting opposite each other and Toby attempted to put his arms around me.
“Move a little closer to me,” he said. I did so and licked my lips attempting to get them full and succulent. “No, come closer still!”
Why didn’t he move? I thought as I edged closer. I shut my eyes, anticipating his “smooch.”
“A bit closer,” he croaked. My excitement must have been intense for as I eagerly moved forward so I let out this enormous…FART! Toby moved pretty quickly then. He jumped to his feet and took several steps backwards. “Ahhh, sheesh…!” was his response.
And that was the last time anyone attempted to “smooch” me until I was sixteen!
As you can imagine, the audience simply rocked with laughter at my “smooching” tale.
Time moves on and in July 2010, my sister, Liz, was renovating her flat. She had decided to put in beautiful sash windows in the lounge. She had looked in The Yellow Pages and found the number of someone who would give her a quote. She was measuring things when the car pulled up. I went outside to greet the “window” man. A good looking guy got out the car.
“Hi, I’m Gaynor Young, Liz’s sister,” I said my arm outstretched to shake his.
A big grin spread across his features. “Gaynor Young,” he said beginning to laugh as he grasped my hand. “ I am…Tobin Shostakovich!”
My comprehension was slow. “Tobin….no, oh…no!” I cried also beginning to shake with laughter. Liz was standing just behind me and had cracked up as well.
“My secretary came to see your performance in 1987 and I never lived that story down in the office! Then you had your accident and I wanted to write to you but I wasn’t sure you’d remember Tobin Shostakovich”
“I have forgotten a lot since my accident but fortunately my experience with Tobin Shostakovich has remained crystal clear.”
“Do you know that three years after “our incident” I met the girl who I would ultimately marry. Who knows what we would have been to each other if it wasn’t for that…for that one hellishly loud fart!” he said cracking up once more.
He gave me his card and said that some time I must come have dinner with his wife and…Tobin Shostakovich!
Closure to my tale!
Disclaimer: To protect privacy some names in this story have been changed