One of the Family

By Regina Bruce

        This is the story of Charles Walker, a man who desires to become a part of the family who lives next door. Every evening he sits at his upstairs bedroom window with his dinner tray, turns off his light and watches the family, next door, eat their evening meal. 

        As they sit, eat and chatter, they do not realize that their not-so-friendly neighbor is watching them in the darkness of his room. He can only imagine the dinner conversations that “the family” has. He can only imagine what it would be like to date their daughter, Evelyn. He can only imagine what it would be like to become “One of the Family.”

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Nov 9, 2009
• ISBN: 9781449041403

Regina Bruce

          Regina Bruce was born in Norfolk, Virginia.  Being influenced as a young child by her mother who wrote plays, short stories, poems and many literary essays, Regina wrote her first screenplay in 2000; thus, she is registered in the Writers Guild of America. She enjoys working her puppet ministry with her husband and writing children’s books.

Book preview

© 2009 Regina Bruce. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 11/5/2009

ISBN: 978-1-4490-4140-3 (e)

ISBN: 978-1-4490-4139-7 (sc)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2009911306

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

Dedication

First and foremost, I would like to dedicate this book to my husband, Paul, who never allowed me to give up writing. He is my stronghold as well as a great critic over my works.

Secondly, I would like to thank my mother, an author, who is now deceased. Her dedication as an English professor and a dedicated short story writer has inspired me to dig deep in my soul and share my stories with the world.

Lastly, I would like to thank my sister, Brenda, another writer, who never tells me no when I constantly nag her to edit my scripts, stories, poems, etc.

CHAPTER ONE

September

The Family

You could tell that Autumn had arrived. She came to town in full array, making a grand entrance as usual. But somehow this season seemed different. She had increased the intensity of her colors to golden yellow, vibrant green, sultry orange mixed with splashes of red and a touch of dark brown in order to tease all of those who would look upon her. Autumn swirled in and out of the trees throughout the town. She touched every leaf, kissed every bush and as she laughed, golden yellow splashed the tip of the maple trees. The sap that filled every proud oak tree quickly submerged to her piercing look as if it submitted to the Almighty Himself. She was dancing the dance of death to tease Summer.

I sat at my bedroom window and watched Autumn play with the fallen crisp leaves that had fallen to the ground. I envied her; her freedom, her childlike movements. I, too, wanted to go out and play with her and the whirling leaves, but I was too old. I was a thirty-five year old fully grown man; a man who had everything but now has nothing.

I took my eyes off the dance of Autumn and knew by the growling of my stomach that it was time for dinner. The family would soon be home and the sounds of love would surround the table. I hated to be late with dinner. I never liked missing any of the warmth of love and good conversation around the table. If I didn’t get started, I would truly miss the first couple of minutes of togetherness with the family.

Before I left the room, I kissed Martha’s picture, which sat on the night table next to her side of the bed. Every time I looked at her, she seemed more beautiful. How in the world can a picture look more beautiful, I chuckled as I felt stupid inside.

Going down the stairs made me realize that the only thing that I disliked about Autumn was the going down of the early sun and how quickly evening came. I hate turning on the lights. I hate night time. I hate - - -

Let’s see, I mumbled as I opened the refrigerator, lamb chops and mashed potatoes sounds good with green peas.

After I threw the chops in the frying pan, I reached for the radio that sat on top of the shelf over the sink and turned to my favorite radio station, 107.8 lite FM on the radio. The sounds of easy listening, as the announcer always said, filled the kitchen and mingled in with the smell of the lamb chops frying and the peas simmering.

I sang and hummed along with a few of the tunes and danced lightly as I whipped the potatoes.

Within the hour, dinner was ready. I placed the old bed tray on the kitchen table and loaded it with my feast. I added a tall glass of cold ice tea and grabbed a couple of napkins. It was time to join the family.

Turning off the radio and turning down the kitchen light, I ascended upstairs.

As I entered my bedroom, I laid the tray on the bed and unfolded the folding table tray that sat in the corner of my room. Placing it in front of my favorite chair, which faced the window on the north side of my room, I retrieved my food. After turning off the ceiling light, I turned on the small night light, opened the Venetian blinds and sat in my chair. I waited for the family to gather.

Across the lawn, only twenty feet away, in the white Cape Cod house next door, I could see the family sitting in the dining room. They always sat in the same places around the table; Agnes, her mother; Thomas, her father, and Junior, her brother. Then, she, came into the dining room. The last one as usual, carrying a hot plate of vegetables which she placed in the middle of the table. Then she, Evelyn, took her seat, opposite Junior and they all bowed their heads to give God thanks. I bowed mine too and prayed, Lord, one day; just one day.... I couldn’t bring myself to whisper about how I desired to be with Evelyn, out loud; so I said nothing.

The family chattered and ate. I always longed to actually hear what they were saying. Although the sound of their voices was muffled, I always imagined what they were saying. Thomas talked of who did what to upset him at work, while Agnes shared the latest gossip that she heard at the mall with friends. Junior wasn’t much of a talker because he never let his mouth get empty and his jaws constantly worked at churning up his food as