The Visitor

Wednesday, September 3rd
I’m not the only one who made a new friend. Dad brought his friend home to dinner tonight. Mr. Tucker is his name and he’s not like anyone I’ve ever met before. He has thin grey hair that stands up in strange angles. His face is reddish brown with deep lines and I didn’t touch it, but it looks rough. I did touch his hand when he extended it to shake. It was like touching the bark of a tree. He smelled strange too, musty like the old house and sweet smelling too. After he left, Mom said he smelled like a brewery. But the strangest thing about him is that he’s never even been inside the safety net.

Mom wasn’t too happy when Dad walked in and said we were having a guest for dinner. She muttered something about giving her some notice and that all we were having were leftovers anyway. Dad said it didn’t matter, that Mr. Tucker wasn’t picky. And it seemed that Dad was right. Mr. Tucker ate every bit on his plate.

He didn’t say much during dinner. And after dinner he and Dad went outside and walked. I stood up to go along too, but Dad waved me back. “Mr. Tucker and I have things to talk about, Mandy girl. How about if we go for a walk tomorrow night?”
“Sure,” I said, but I was disappointed. I wanted to learn more about Mr. Tucker. If he’d never been inside the safety net, he might know what had happened to the writer.