Not Much of a Bully Now
The radio called them oldies, but most of them were chart toppers while I was in high school.
Unwilling to admit I had reached ‘a certain age.’ I danced about the kitchen.
There was more egg on the counter and my apron than on the bread as I dropped another slice into the pan.
If Mum and Gladys returned from the store, they’d see an uncoordinated disaster.
I couldn’t be happier.
After Mum went to bed, I returned to the kitchen table and the scrapbook.
One painful page at a time, I relived my past. Underneath the bubble letter cutouts, he scribbled notes about every article.
The guilt shifted from wishing he had seen the man I had become to wanting to know the man he became.
Before she headed to her room, she shared an amusing tidbit about Pops. “He wrote poetry. Not good poetry, but it made him smile. We’d be lying in bed and ask if I wanted to hear his latest. I always said yes. No matter how dreadful, the smile on his face reminded me of why I loved him.”
It hurt that I didn’t know my favorite person had such depth.
I could have let the guilt consume me. She didn’t wait for a reply as she left.
I realized I still had a chance of knowing him.
Through him, I could reconnect with Mum.
Perhaps this had been his plan all along?
He might not be with us, but he wasn’t done with me… us… not yet.
“Shit.” I gave the pan a shake, flipping the French toast, revealing a darkened crust. The men in this family shouldn’t be allowed to cook. Then again, would it be breakfast in the Sanford house without a little smoke and the smell of burnt toast?
My phone vibrated on the counter.
Lacie: Tomorrow’s the night.
Nick’s tornado of a companion had sent the text directly instead of using our group chat. She might be well-meaning, but I knew a scheme when I saw one.
Charlie: For what?
Lacie: The curse.
Lacie: We break the curse.
Charlie: I’m not supplying a sacrificial lamb.
Lacie: No more blood magic for me. It got out of control last time.
I rolled my eyes. I wasn’t ready to deep dive into Firefly like Lacie. At this point, she knew more about the town than I did. My opinion might have shifted. Slightly. The minor victories required me to sacrifice the personal space I demanded. So far, it hadn’t bitten me in the ass.
Charlie: What do you need?
Lacie: What’s your sign?
Charlie: Virgo? Why?
Lacie: Perfect. We need an Earth element.
Lacie: Tomorrow in the green. Bring firewood.
Charlie: Huh?
Lacie: Don’t worry. I’ll get everything else.
Lacie: Look cute.
Charlie: Is that necessary?
Lacie: No, but your man will appreciate it.
Charlie: Fine.
“Shit.” I snatched the French toast from the pan and dropped it onto a nearby plate. Both sides were equally burnt. The inability to cook without scorching food must be a genetic trait.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
I could only imagine Mum’s arms filled with groceries. I’d tell her to take it easy, she’d argue. The more time I spent ‘helping’ her, the more I understood where I got my stubbornness. I turned off the stove and dashed through the living room to the foyer.
She’d crack up at me wearing her apron, complete with a floral design and frilly edges. I wiped the egg from my hand, grabbing the doorknob. Jerking it open, I froze. Where I expected an elderly woman cursing under her breath, stood a slender man.
“Can I help you?”
He didn’t have a pie in hand. His work boots were well-worn in, as were the jeans with more than a few stains. Something about his face struck me as familiar, as did everybody in Firefly. Sharp angles and a five o’clock shadow covered his face.
“It’s about my kid.”
Four words, and I found myself in the lone hallway of Firefly Valley Middle School. Pushed against my locker, I could see the angular jaw, the hiss between his teeth as he threatened to give me a knuckle sandwich. My heart raced as I heard kids laughing, going along with the bully’s assault.
“Johnny,” I mumbled.
“Matt won’t be able to go on the camping trip.”
I hadn’t seen it before, but the similarities were there. Matt had his father’s nose and angular jaw. When puberty finished with him, he’d be a little version of Johnny.
“Why?”
This wasn’t middle school, and I wasn’t the defenseless kid who ran away crying. The blood in my veins boiled. My fingers tightened into fists as I tried to even my breathing.
“It’s not a good idea.”
His lack of an answer wasn’t good enough. Anger filled my ribcage. From Johnny, to Matt, to Seamus for introducing me to the gremlins. I had avoided getting involved, sidestepping any connection with this godforsaken town. I let my guard down, and now I had my childhood bully in my doorway.
This is why I loathed Firefly.
“Matt said—”
“I remember you,” I muttered.
“We were in homeroom together,” he said, as if that were the entire story. Those years had shaped my entire life, and he couldn’t even remember the torture he had put me through.
My forearm shot up, my body spinning until I had him pinned against the exterior of the house. He didn’t have a chance to struggle before I pressed my forearm across his throat. Johnny grabbed my arm, but I refused to back away.
“Homeroom? You tortured me.”
The words came out in a low growl. Leaning in, our faces were only inches apart. Because of him, I spent my childhood hiding, bouncing from one class to the next, hoping I could get in front of a teacher before he caught me alone.
“Not much of a bully anymore.”
“I was—a kid.” He struggled to breathe.
If I wanted, I could have taken a punch. I doubled his weight, and with a single blow, I could have retribution. This wasn’t about Matt or the gremlins. This was about me protecting my younger self.
“Fuck the trip. It’s off.” I didn’t want any part of him or this town. For a moment, I thought they could change. Instead of threatening to give me a black eye, he used his kid as a pawn. I wanted nothing to do with these head games.
“Charles!”
I didn’t let go as I turned to see Mum getting out of the car. It took every ounce of willpower to not toss Johnny onto the porch and drive my foot into his stomach. I wanted to. Badly. Not in front of Mum, even after I left, she’d have to deal with the fallout.
“Consider yourself lucky.” I withdrew, fists still clenched.
“What’s wrong—” He gasped, sucking in oxygen. “—with you.”
“Doesn’t feel great, does it?” I waited for him to make a move, any slight advance. I didn’t start this morning looking for a fight, but if he gave me a reason, I’d leave him battered.
He massaged his throat as he staggered down the stairs.
He scurried past Mum. Gladys had gotten out of the driver’s side of the car, watching as he ran to his truck.
The queen of gossip had watched the entire thing.
It’d only be a matter of hours before Firefly hummed with speculation, talking about how I tried to beat up one of their own.
“Charles.” Mum hobbled toward the front steps. “What’s going on?” She worried, even as my nails dug into my palms. “What happened?”
In all the years that man bullied me, I never revealed his name.
There had never been a reason to give away his identity.
He might have been the one shoving me against lockers and tripping me in the cafeteria, but it had been the entire school that participated.
Complicit, they let it happen. Johnny was one of many.
“Taking care of business.” I eyed Gladys, still standing at her car. “It’ll give them something to talk about.”
“Charles, what’s gotten into you?”
It didn’t make me feel better. Not in the least. I could have easily tossed Johnny around like a rag doll. I had the opportunity, but knowing I could have done it didn’t take away the sting. It had nothing to do with getting revenge for the sleepless nights and fear of getting on the school bus.
More than the gremlins, I had been looking forward to our excursion. My opportunity to pass on Pops’s legacy had been shattered by a self-righteous asshole. The one good thread binding me to Firefly came unraveled. It hurt more than expected.
My time in Firefly had an expiration date. Once Mum could get around, I’d pack my bags and return to my life in Boston, or at least what was left of it.
Johnny’s truck vanished down the street. I hoped that, if nothing else, I occupied space in his head as he recounted every action that brought us to this point. If he didn’t regret his decisions, I wanted him to know I’d easily put him in his place.
I looked back at Mum’s worried face. “Breakfast is ready.”
“I can get the mail for you.”
Mum rolled her eyes as I helped her out of the truck.
At the far end of the green, the post office could very well be the oldest building in town.
White with a bay window on either side of a dark blue door, I could see the countless layers of white paint, none of them quite hiding the previous effort.
She might find my attempts to help irksome, but I noticed how she held on to my arm for support.
“Foolish boy,” she chided. “I’m not here for the mail.”
The brown package slip said otherwise, but I knew it served as another excuse to visit.
I could have picked it up for her, but she wanted to chat with somebody.
Another small-town quirk. In Boston, the mailman would have dropped it at the front door of the apartment building and gone about his business.
This served as yet another way Firefly forced interaction.
After this morning, I didn’t want to interact with anybody.
Inside, it was as if I had entered a time capsule.
Decades had passed, and nothing inside had changed.
Along the back wall, small brass doors opened to post office boxes.
While there were at least a hundred of them, their tiny windows showed only a fraction held mail.
The right wall held dozens of posters, with a bulletin board covered in events hosted by the school.