Dear Bully

Ch. 01: Dinner

Dear Bully

Ch. 01: Dinner

It wasn’t until five o’ clock that I remembered that I had invited Corway over for dinner.

“Momma?” I wandered into the kitchen and found her in front of the slow-cooker, a salt-shaker in her frail hand. “Would you mind if I had a friend over for dinner?”

Mom set the salt-shaker down and wiped her hands off on her apron. “Of course not, honey. I’ve made too much for the three of us to handle anyhow.” Mom smiled at me, before she noticed how tense I was. “What’s the matter?”

I looked down at the richly colored tiles. Gray, blue, and white assaulted my eyes. “He’s not exactly a friend. In fact… I kinda hate him. But after today… I know that he needs this. And I think that I need it too.”

Mom looked at me oddly. Carefully, she tucked a chocolate brown curl behind her ear. “What do you mean, honey?”

“He tried to kill himself today, Momma. He tried to walk out in front of the train and… and I saved him.”

“Oh, honey.” Mom’s voice cracked as she made her way over to me and took me into her warm arms. Chamomile and lavender overwhelmed me and I felt so at home, so comforted, that tears of relief flooded my eyes.

“I don’t… I don’t know what to do, Momma. I was so scared. I didn’t even think. What if I didn’t make it in time? Or what if I was too late and the train killed us both?” Mom’s arms tightened around me.

She shook her head furiously. “Tessa, none of that happened. You’re here with me, safe and sound. And you saved that boy’s life.” Her voice started to tremble near the end and I knew that she was crying too.

“I just need him to know that somebody cares about him. I need him to know that he’s not alone.” I said.

Mom nodded. “Okay, honey. What time did you tell him to come over?”

“He said that he’ll be here at six.”

Mom looked over at the clock. It was half-past five. “Okay. Set the table and tell your sister that it’s time for dinner.”

Thankful that she had been so accepting of this, I smiled at her. “Yes, ma’am.”

Mom had already taken the dishes and set them on the counter, so I walked over and carefully balanced them in my arms. The dishes were a dark blue that matched the color of the tile floor, and the glasses had a frosted checkerboard design on them. They were my Momma’s favorite. Blue had been Daddy’s favorite color and they were one of the first items that they had bought as Mr. and Mrs. Blackwater. She only took them out when she missed him.

Making my way into the dining room, I set a place for each of us at the round table. It was one chair short, so I took one of the extras from the sitting room and added it for Corway. Next, I set a trivet in the middle of the table so Momma could set the slow-cooker down. Momma slid some of the cloth napkins across the counter and I folded them, setting them underneath the forks. It looked oddly normal… but this entire day had been far from normal.

I shot one last look back at my Momma. Her dark curls barely fell down to her chin and were wedged up the back of her head, causing them to frame her ovular face beautifully. Her eyes were wide and dark, like bottomless pools of melted chocolate. Two red bows were in her hair and bright red lips stood out on her ivory skin. Momma was the kind of woman that anyone could talk to. Maybe that was why she was a middle school guidance counselor.

Silently, I thanked her for allowing Corway into our home. And then, after inspecting the table one last time, I made my way toward the old, creaky staircase that lead to the second floor of our house. Really, it wasn’t much of a second floor. It was one bedroom that had somehow been made into two. On one side was my Momma’s room, on the other side, the room that I shared with my little sister, Stacey Blackwater.