The Kindness of Strangers

Ch. 3 - Rest My Eyes

Once I'm done with my dinner, I excuse myself and bring my plate to the kitchen sink. My face feels like it's going to melt, the fire of embarrassment is eating me alive. I pop my head back into the dining room where everyone is making conversation.

"It was a very nice dinner, Mama, thank you. I'm goin' to bed now. G'night everyone."

Everyone says their various goodnights to me before I take myself back to the guest room. With each step, the fire behind my skin cools but I still feel the knot in my damn gut all the same. Silently, I close the door behind me. A wail of despair threatens to escape my throat. How could I forget my table manners? What did Mama think of me? What did Tommy think of me? I try to shake those horrible thoughts from my head. It shouldn't matter that much anyway. I should be gone by the day after tomorrow anyhow. I hold my velvet bear to my chest, thumbing his fuzz in thought.

I wonder if Thomas and I could be penpals, or Nubbins if Thomas couldn't write well. Dust fills the air as I let myself fall back on the ancient mattress. All these thoughts in my head aren't good for me. Nothing a good night's rest couldn't fix. I let my mind ease into the world of slumber, the fire of embarrassment gone, and the knot in my chest finally untangling itself.

I wake up with alarm when someone taps on my arm, the morning light blinding me as I try to open my eyes. Grabbing into the void, I feel a sleeve in my fist. "What's wrong?" A deep grunt causes my eyes to snap open, meeting Thomas's. The man is trying not to laugh, his eyes crinkled in amusement. I fling myself out of bed, grabbing random clothes out of the bags. "I am so sorry, Tommy! Lemme get dressed for the day and I'll meet you outside!" He nods and leaves, the door clicking softly behind him. I nearly fall getting my dress over my head, the sunflower pattern mocking my clumsiness. Looking in the mirror, I start to take inventory of my outfit. Shirt? Check. Underwear? Check. Pants? Check. Socks and shoes? Double-check! I meet Thomas outside his room, his form leaning against the wall. I do a little spin to show my work outfit and he huffs in amusement, leading me to start our day.

"I'm guessin' Mama and Drayton left for work before ye got me?" Thomas nods. "Is Nubbins gonna help?" Thomas shakes his head, mumbling lowly while gesturing to the air dismissively. I take that as a fat no. I take a little stool from the hall to the kitchen so I can help with cooking, holding eggs, butter, etc. We perform your tasks in comfortable silence,

I notice that Thomas is wearing his dress, his black slacks poking out from underneath, and the white kitchen apron contrasting nicely against the dark blue. It makes me smile knowing that he's so comfortable with himself. The man deserves to be comfortable in his own home. Guests be damned.

"I like your dress, Tommy. It's real pretty." Thomas freezes, his egg whisking slowing considerably. I can see his neck turn tomato red as he hunches down and starts hawking and squalling his humble little non-words at me. Slowly taking the bowl from him, I begin whisking. "You wanna go set up the table for us?" Still mumbling in his high, breathy way he takes some silverware and cups to the dining room.

I bring out the plates, making a second trip for the orange juice. It wasn't as good as whatever Thomas could probably make but he seemed happy with the results.

"So about Grandpa...I'm sure he wouldn't appreciate me touching his naughty bits. You help him with that and I'll feed him. Sound like a plan?" I look toward Thomas as he shoves a fork full of egg into his maw, nodding in agreement.

Thomas gives a grunt of thanks as i take both our empty plates to the kitchen. The plates are rinsed with the pots before I turn my attention to the fridge. My eyes land on a jar labeled Grandpa, the same red ooze contained within. I grab it, with a strained smile. Poor Grandpa.

Following Thomas upstairs, he stops me at the second flight, his large hand touching my stomach. I flush for a second before confusion takes over. "What's wrong?" Thomas lowers his head and points upstairs mumbling. "What about Grandpa?" He shakes his head holding up two fingers. I squint at him for a bit before it clicks. "....Grandma?" I lower my voice to a whisper. "Ain't she dead Tommy? Don't tell me Grandpa made y'all keep her up there too!" He licks his chapped lips nervously, and his pig squeals becoming upset as he clenches and unclenches his hands. I hold up my hands to placate him.