Page 62 of Talk to Me

I blinked at her.

“At least I hope not,” Mom said, turning to Theo to laugh. “We only have the two bathrooms and I can’t have her keeping one occupied all day long with a house full of people. Couldn’t have happened to a nicer person.”

Theo laughed nervously as my mom cackled.

“Uh,” Merle is Mom’s brother and Diane is his wife. My uncle and aunt. No one really likes Diane,” I said, explaining to Theo.

He nodded back. I turned to Mom.

“And could we keep the watery diarrhea stories to a minimum on Theo’s first day with us?” I asked.

Mom swatted at me again.

“I just wanted you to know in case they don’t show up and you wondered where they were,” Mom said, shooting Theo an apologetic smile. “Everyone poops, Josh.”

“Diane’s situation feels…different,” I said.

“Oh.” Mom waggled her head at me. “Go take the bags upstairs for you and your guest.”

Mom slipped her arm through Theo’s and turned him towards the back of the house.

“And you come with me and tell me all about you,” she said to him.

As I slung both bags over my shoulders, Mom was dragging Theo towards the kitchen. He looked over his shoulder, a terrified expression on his face, and I laughed. Not bothering to try and rescue Theo—since Mom wouldn’t have let me—I jogged up the stairs, our bags bumping against my back with each step. At the top, I turned left in the hallway and walked down to the last room on the left. I swung my hip against the half-open door and stepped inside.

My bedroom was exactly as I’d left it when I’d started my junior year at Midway. Mom had dusted and deodorized the room for us, and Dad had set up the cot on the far side of the room, but it was virtually untouched otherwise. The same band posters were on the walls. My blue and tan plaid comforter covered my bed. My study desk was still organized and neat, ready for homework to be done. And it was still the chilliest room in the house.

Shivering, I placed my bag next to my queen bed on the left side of the room, then I went over and set Theo’s bag next to the cot. Due to the layout of the room, the cot was tucked against the wall under one of the two windows. The farmhouse was in good shape, but it was old and drafty, especially around the windows. I checked the bedding Mom had put on the cot and found that she’d put a fitted sheet on the mattress pad, a flat sheet, a blanket, and a comforter. Even with the chilly room and the draft, Theo should be okay for sleeping.

Rushing back downstairs, enough time had passed that I could save Theo from Mom without her getting upset with me. I made sure to trudge down the stairs loudly so Theo would know I was on my way to rescue him. There’s no relief like knowing help is on the way. I found them both in the kitchen, Theo sat at the table and Mom busying herself over the stove. She was talking ninety-to-nothing as Theo nodded and listened with wide eyes.

“So,” Mom was saying, “I told him that chickens can remember nearly a hundred human faces. So, if they take off after you and peck at you like that, they remember what you did. He can’t fool me. He was mean to those chickens and they attacked him because they remembered. Chickens aren’t mean just to be mean.”

“That makes sense,” Theo responded.

“Does it?” I asked, sauntering into the kitchen. Theo looked over at me, relief etched all over his face. “Dorothy attacks Dad every time she sees him and he’s been nothing but nice to her over the years.”

Mom turned to me, pointing a spoon covered in gravy at me.

“Dorothy is a sensitive soul and she knows your dad doesn’t like her!” Mom grumbled.

Gravy dripped off the spoon and splattered at her feet.

“Well, shit,” Mom said.

She quickly put the spoon back into the gravy pan and dashed to the counter to grab some paper towels.

“He doesn’t like her because she attacks him,” I said as Mom knelt to wipe up the spilled gravy.

“Speaking of which,” Mom said, standing up, “go out there and tell your father that lunch is about ready. ‘Bout ten minutes. I’ll holler up at Evie.”

I shrugged. “Okay.”

Marching across the kitchen, I reached down and grabbed Theo’s wrist, pulling him up from his seat. I’d never seen such a relieved look on a person’s face as I did on Theo’s when I pulled him towards the kitchen door. Before Mom could ask why I was stealing her conversation hostage, I pushed open the door and led us down the back steps into the yard. Theo shut the door behind us and gave me a wide-eyed look of shock.

“Mom has never met a stranger,” I said.

Theo stared at me for a moment as we stood there.