Tara

15

I already miss sweet Tommy

Enjoyyyy!!!

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My table was now littered with multiple letters. 

Some were from my church mates, the pastor, my brother and my siblings. 

And some were from Mr James Anderson. 

I had only read most of them, but not all because all the letters contained the same contents. 

Deepest condolences and prayers, along with all these people asking me whether I was okay or needed to be around people. 

Of course I wasn't fine. No black person in Mayville was because we had lost four of our people. The same people who were willing to fight for our rights in that small backward town. 

During this time, I closely followed the news, hoping that we would get more helpful information on who exactly shot those men. 

The reason was already blatantly obvious. We just wanted to know who the person or people who were behind it were. 

Yet, there hadn't been any meaningful progress or investigation into it. 

All that was being offered on the news was that the police were working day and night trying to get to the bottom of this heartless act. 

The same statement they used for months after my mother was run over. 

I hadn't gone to work for a week, and I honestly didn't know if I was going to be able to. I didn't know if I had the strength to deal with Mrs Anderson. 

She obviously hadn't forgotten that I had walked in on her having sex with the Sheriff's son,because I certainly hadn't. 

The gory image was still drilled and plastered in my mind, not going anywhere anytime soon. So I wasn't sure how she would want to proceed with me. 

Either fire me and blackmail me into keeping quiet about it. Yes, that seemed like something she was likely to do. 

Mr Anderson, on the other hand, was another reason why I was dreading going back to work. 

He was now going to just remind me of Thomas and how I was dishonest with him. I had no idea how I would look at him in the same way again. And with the shenanigans that his wife was up to, I didn't want to be put in the middle of it all. 

I just couldn't. 

So I was content with keeping to myself in my house. It was safer and less complicated. 

No Mrs Anderson or her husband. 

But it was definitely filled with Thomas' memory. 

I didn't go to church on Sunday either because I woke up late and I didn't feel well enough to go to church. 

That was the result of me not eating anything solid for the week. Small bites of bread and cold rice wasn't helping me with anything. 

I did try to eat something around lunchtime, when I noticed an all too familiar black car slowly stopping in front of my house before parking. 

Pulling the curtain to the side at the corner, I watched with one eye as Mr Anderson got out of the car. 

He was wearing a washed out pair of blue jeans, trainers and a gray sweater with a hood. 

My stomach sank in dread at seeing him here, in a black neighborhood, parking his expensive car in front of my house. 

Walking towards my house. Knocking on my door.