meant to be yours | d.w

17

"I felt still and very empty, the way the eye of a tornado must feel, moving dully along in the surrounding hullabaloo"

Dinner at the Davis household can go two certain ways. Chaotic destruction, or a tense, but serene sense of clarity.

Her mother had made lamb chops today, her father's favorite. If only the premise of a fine meal could settle the building tension.

Her father was grumbling on earlier about something Rebecca couldn't quite make out, something about Wills school. But even though she couldn't quite listen in on what her father was saying earlier, she knew it had something to do with mealtime. For dinner was silent today, but anything but the definition of tranquility.

She stuck her fork into the meat, splitting it open gently as she took small bites. Table manners have become customary as she grew older. And if she were to tell the truth, and nothing but the truth, this was a lesson her mother taught that she wholeheartedly supported.

The arranged greens and mashed potatoes cooked to perfection made this beautiful array of food that looked almost too beautiful to touch.

But as much as the meal was extraordinarily lavish, that didn't mean family supper wasn't filled with this undeniable tense discomfort.

In this mess that my mother called dinner, all I wanted to do was leave.

"So tell me Will, how was school today?" The chief asked his son like it was an interrogation, taking a sip of water to ease everyone's awkward stares towards my brother.

Will remained silent for a moment until Officer Davis sent him his typical stern look that he has to put on everyday. The police officer and Will both paused, not saying a single word until Will responded.

"It was alright, I got to play with blocks." He said eagerly, completely numb to acknowledging the repetitive teasing he's faced on the previous days. At this age, it's difficult to realize that some people are cruel for absolutely no reason at all.

His answer was blunt, and her father wanted more. And everyone knows that Richard Davis is one to always get the answer he desires out of a person.

Rebecca wanted to bury herself into the deepest hole she could crawl into. Will simply doesn't understand, and she wasn't sure if he ever would. The entire mealtime was filled with not a soul being able to understand one another, and that's what in the end made it all the more dreadful.

She could hear dishes clinking into the sink as her mother deeply sighed, dangerously close to damaging her fine china.

"What are we going to do?" Marie Davis said frantically, turning around to face her husband in despair. "They're picking on him again... calling him queer." She continued on, more aggressiveness in her tone towards that last word. However she was careful to keep her tone hushed so that it was barely audible.

"The insults will only get worse. What if they start calling him a... a faggot." Her tone continued to be low, almost like a whisper.

But little does she know that someone is listening in right at this very moment. Not to mention they're hearing every word at that. Right behind the door lies two ears, picking up this attainable, but terrible new information.

She then let out a small airy gasp. "What will the neighbors think, what if they find out everything about Kristina..."

He cut her off right then and there. "God damn it Marie our son has bruises on his knuckles and the first thing you think about is what Mrs. Clark next door will think."