Work In Progress by A. M. Bryker (grave mercy .TXT) 📖

sucks; I doubt that losing a friendship would kill me.

  Fine, I think. I'll give him a chance.

  Steeling myself, I dial his number. It takes a minute for me to actually press Call. I breathe deeply as the phone rings. 

  "Hello?" His voice makes my face burn. 

  "Hi" is all I can muster. 

  "Trin?" I can hear the smile in his voice. 

  "Yeah."

  "Feeling better?"

  "Uh, yeah," I say, feeling a little stupid. "Hey, is that dinner invite still open?"

  "Of course," he replies, sounding enthusiastic. "Is six-thirty okay?"

  "Sure."

  "Great, I'll see you then!"

  I smirk at his obvious excitement. "Okay."

  With that, we hang up. 

  See? I tell myself. That wasn't so bad. Everything will be okay.

  I hope that's true. 

6

 

When the time comes, I slowly but surely make my way to Jack's house and ring the doorbell. Jack answers the door.

  "Hey, come in," he invites warmly.

  Taking a deep breath, I gather up my courage and step over the threshold.

  When I walk through the door, a wave of sensation collides with my senses. The interior of the house is bright and cheery. I can hear people chattering and laughing in another room. The smells emanating from the kitchen make my mouth water. The feeling I get while I stand here is that of comfort.

  Jack motions for me to follow him, so I do. He leads me out of the front room and into a cozy dining room. An ornate chandelier hangs from the ceiling. The walls are a nice creamy color. A decent oak table rests on a smooth, dark brown wood floor. Surrounding this table are six chairs. Occupying three of these chairs are three people. I'm sure this is Jack's family... minus one. They all fall silent when we walk in.

  At the head of the table is a man with dark hair--like Jack's--and happy brown eyes. He seems to be around his early thirties, but I'm sure he's older--late thirties or early forties, I'd say.

  One of the seats beside him is unoccupied, but across from that one is a little boy. His red curly hair is an adorable mess, and his eyes are so dark they look black. I'd guess his age to be around six or seven. He's staring at me like I'm some sort of insect. I shift uncomfortably.

  Sitting beside the empty seat is a young girl. She looks like she could be thirteen or fourteen. Her dark hair is pulled back in a long braid, and her bangs are long enough to cover her elegant eyebrows. Hazel eyes peer up at me curiously.

  Everybody in the room is watching me, and I look at Jack, who says, "Everyone, this is Trinity." They all give me welcoming smiles.

  "Have a seat," Mr. West invites. He gestures to the table. "Dinner will be out in a minute or two."

  Jack pulls out the chair at the end of the table for me. Hesitantly, I sit. He takes the seat on my right. On my left side is the girl.

  Mr. West clears his throat to say, "We're pleased that you accepted our invitation, Miss Hill."

  "Trinity."

  He takes a sip of his water and chuckles at my correction. "Of course. My name is Jordan. These are my two other children--Toby and Katie. My wife, Mary, is preparing dinner. Katie, why don't you go help her bring things in?"

  Katie obediently rises from her seat and disappears into the kitchen.

  "I would have helped, but Mary insisted that she do everything." Mr. West smiles. "I'm pulling strings by sending Katie in there."

  A few minutes later, Katie comes back in carrying two bowls. One holds rolls, and the other contains vegetables. She carefully places them in the middle of the table before heading back into the kitchen. When she returns, she brings in a platter of perfectly sliced meat surrounding a bowl of mashed potatoes. Following her is a woman--Mary, I'm guessing--carrying a bowl of salad.

  Mary is a beautiful woman, wearing a silky blue blouse and black pencil skirt. Her flaming red hair compliments her porcelain features and lovely green eyes.

  When she sees me, she smiles widely. "Good evening, Trinity. I'm so glad you decided to join us."

  I don't respond, not exactly sure how to.

  Mary takes her seat beside her husband and looks at those around the table. She puts on a stern expression and says, "I put a lot of time and effort into this meal. Enjoy it."

  Jack and his family begin to dish food onto their plates enthusiastically. Not wanting to look out of place, I do the same, but with considerably less enthusiasm.

  The food is delicious. I savor each bite. Mary is an excellent cook.

  Katie leans over to me, and asks quietly, "Are you a vampire? I mean, I know you're eating real food, but you could be faking it somehow."

  I raise an eyebrow and glance around the table to see if anyone had heard.

  When I conclude they didn't, I lean in with her and inquire just as subtly, "Why do you think I'm a vampire?"

  "Well," she begins, "your choice of clothing. Makeup. Your flawless skin. You're certainly beautiful enough to pass as one."

  I look at her with surprise. I almost smirk. Then I decide to do something completely out of my character.

  I play along.

  Making a small show for Katie, I glance around the table of people cautiously. They're all busy eating and talking amongst themselves.

  "Can you keep a secret?" I finally ask conspiratorially.

  Katie nods enthusiastically.

  Biting my lower lip dramatically, I whisper, "I am a vampire."

  Her eyes widen for a moment, but then they narrow as skepticism creeps in. "Then how are you able to go out in the sun?"

  "Special sunscreen," I answer, as though it were obvious.

  "Do you drink blood?" Her eyes are wide again.

  I give her a look.

  "Never mind," she says quickly, shuddering. "I don't wanna know."

  Then she asks excitedly, "Do you sleep in a coffin?"

  "Absolutely. I'll show you where I keep it sometime."

  Beaming, she says to me, "Can't wait."

  We both straighten in our seats. I take a bite of potatoes and wink at her. She giggles.

  Feeling someone's eyes on me, I turn.

  "What was that all about?" Jack asks me.

  "Nothing," I reply, shrugging. "She just likes my hair, that's all."

  He smiles and nods, placated.

  We finish dinner and Mary announces that it's time for dessert. Katie gets up to help her mother.

  When they return from the kitchen a few minutes later, they bring with them ice cream and peach cobbler. Mr. West insists on scooping the ice cream into the bowls, while Mary handles the cobbler.

  Is there anything that Mary can make that doesn't taste amazing? I wonder as wonderful flavors explode in my mouth.

  Everyone compliments Mary's cooking, and she brushes it off humbly.

  After we've all had our fill of dessert, I awkwardly ask Mary if there's anything I can do to help clean up. It was the least I could do after the amazing dinner she prepared.

  "Oh yes, thank you," she responds gratefully. "You can help Jack rinse off the dishes and put them in the dishwasher."

  We clear the dishes and take them to the kitchen, setting them on the counter. I go about rinsing the dishes while Jack arranges them in the dishwasher.

  "Did you enjoy yourself?" He asks.

  "I suppose," I reply nonchalantly.

  He smiles and scoffs. "You totally did."

  Rolling my eyes, I neither confirm or deny it. "What if I did?"

  He shrugs, confessing, "I dunno. I guess it'd satisfy me somehow."

  "Why?"

  "It's an accomplishment. I live here, and it's an unspoken rule amongst the family to give guests a good time."

  I nod in understanding, and say, "I see."

  We finish the dishes in silence, and when we're done we go back out to the dining room, where the rest of the family is. They lounge on their seats, seeming content and relaxed.

  Mary spots us and asks me, "Would you like to stay and watch a movie with us?"

  "Oh, um," I stammer. "No, thank you. I should be getting back home. Dinner was great, thanks."

  She smiles warmly and replies, "Thank you for coming. You're welcome here anytime."

  As I go, they all follow me, except Toby. He bolted upstairs after dessert.

  Mr. West opens the door for me, and as I begin to walk out the door, Katie stops me. Her hug almost crushes me, but I manage to keep myself together. It shocks me that I'm again in such close proximity to someone without any angst toward me. Tears threaten to surface, but I beat them back down.

  "Even though you aren't a vampire, I still think you're cool," she whispers in my ear.

  My heart melts of its own volition, and she pulls away.

  "Thank you," I whisper back to her.

  Her smile of encouragement is almost too much. The tears are coming.

  I wave goodbye to all of them and force myself to walk slowly back to my house, tears silently streaming down my face.

 

  As soon as I get to my living room, I sit on the sofa and attempt to regain my composure. After a few minutes, my tears finally cease. Sniffling, I glance around the room and feel more alone than ever. Mom can be a real pain (literally), but at least she was another person filling the house. I can't remember the last time she had a job. This is so unusual.

  Turning on the TV, I flip through the channels and try to find something of interest.

(Working on it.)

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Text: A.M. Bryker
Publication Date: 08-15-2014

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