Don't Jump to Conclusions

Tessa examined her new apartment from the terrace out front. It was a forgettable, two-story building erected in the 1950s. Once she turned 18, her parents said, out you go. She brought up box after box to her tiny one-room apartment in Hamilton, away from the big cities of New York, away from her parents, away from the shallow dorks at her high school. It was all she could afford with her part-time jobs, and by the look of the building, she overpaid. The topmost floor of a brownstone had four windows that faced the outside, and other than the transom window at the top of the door, very little light came in.

Just like her life.

Tessa stacked boxes that belonged in the rooms: kitchen, bedroom, bathroom, living room. Each “stack” consisted of two boxes. It was everything in the world she owned. She started in the kitchen, putting away a few dishes and flatware. The two pots she owned were placed under the sink. The more she looked into the crevices of this place, the more she wanted to cry. She had nothing and felt like nothing.

The walls were institutional gray, and the off-white ceiling was beginning to peel in places. While the floor was swept, it was in obvious need of a deep clean. Bleach and Lysol would take care of most of the living space. The furniture left behind was meager, a small round dining table with two Windsor-inspired chairs, a faded sofa, a metal bed frame and mattress, a chest of drawers, and very little else. The gray linoleum peeled up at some of the corners, and air escaped from under her door and around her air conditioning unit. These were things she could work on in good time.

In the bathroom she hung up a plain white shower curtain and a single towel. She sorted out her toiletries, a little make up, her brushes; all the typical things an 18-year would own. Some of the items were part of her childhood, and she treasured them. Times were much better then. Simple family life without the intrusion of tragedy.

This space provided her some comfort. It wasn’t much, but it was hers. She checked the lock on the door; a sturdy deadbolt and chain lock kept her safe inside. Tessa approached the boxes in her room. The sturdy chest of drawers made of oak seemed like a relic of the 60s. Four drawers and seven knobs. Her undergarments took the top, uniforms next, and then her remaining clothing barely covered the bottom of the third drawer. She’d have to work her way up. One day she’d like to hang up clothing in her closet, she thought.

The mattress had seen better days; she had remembered to buy a mattress cover and put that on the bed. She had one fitted sheet, one top sheet, and the pillowcase. But no pillow; she just used her jacket stuffed in there as part of the linens. She dressed the bed, and then finished emptying the boxes. There was an old landline phone built into the apartment building, and the phone was on the windowsill behind her. An old clock radio sat on the chest, and she set the time to match what she saw on the clock tower through the window.

Maybe, she thought, she could use the empty boxes as furniture. Cover them with a sheet and no one would know how empty she and the boxes were. She moved the boxes into the living room, and checked to see that the door was locked, the windows were latched, and she was ready for bed. She’d pick up some food tomorrow to go along with her instant coffee and peanut butter.

Back in the bedroom Tessa set her alarm for 6 in the morning for her early shift at F & S. Flour and Salt was a small breakfast eatery that served the best bagels in town. In her long t-shirt, she left the radio on the only station that had music. Jazz wasn’t her cup of tea, but it would put her to sleep. In her mind, though, she was amused to hear a small voice say, “Nice choice of music.” She eased into the freshly made bed. The light from the clock tower came in through her window, illuminating her walls, reminding her where she came from, and where she was now. She started to cry.

“Oh, please don’t cry. It makes me sad, too,” said the tiniest of voices.

Tessa froze. She thought maybe she was so tired she was hallucinating. “Hello? Is there someone else here? She thought to herself, I locked the windows, I locked the door, there’s no fire escape. Her heart was pounding a mile a minute. She didn’t need this right now.

“I’m up here,” replied the tiniest of voices. “In the corner.”

Tessa looked up but didn’t see anyone. The light coming through the window cast a shadow, but not of a person. She squinted and saw a spider in the corner. I am going crazy. “Spiders don’t talk, do they?”

“I do, but I’m not like the others.”

At this point Tessa screamed and scooched back in the bed, pulling the sheet up to her chin.

“Shhhh! Shhh! You don’t want to wake the neighbors. They’re not all nice people.”

“No. No. No. No. I’m not hearing this.” Tessa’s eyes were wide open, and any sleepiness she had was completely gone.

“Yes, you are. But it’s ok. I’m a good spider.”

Tessa closed her eyes and hoped it would be gone when she opened them. She opened her eyes, and the spider had moved across the wall. Feeling around near her bed, she grabbed a shoe and was ready to toss it.”

“No! Please don’t do that. I can help you.”

She paused. “How?” she asked tentatively.

“You look like you’re going through some hard times.”

“Thanks – you’ve been watching me? Creeper.” Tessa was still trying to reconcile that she was talking with a sentient spider. “What should I call you?”

“Buddy would be nice.”

“Buddy.”

“Yes, Buddy. As in friend.” He shifted his weight and moved farther across the wall. “I can rebuild over here if that’ll make you feel better.”

Tessa, rubber her eyes, moved the hair out of her face. “First of all, bugs don’t talk.”

Buddy bristled at the statement. “No need for name-calling. I am NOT a BUG. I am a daddy long-legs, I believe you call them. Not a harvestman, not a tarantula, not a black widow. Just a plain old spider.”

“But. You. Talk.” Tessa hesitated, still thinking she was out of it.

“Two tenants ago, a lady with lots of herbs and potions and incense sticks lived here. She made this stuff that smelled so sweet I had to try it.”

“And?”

“And then I could talk.” Buddy moved even farther. “After that, she moved away, but I kept the ability to talk.”

“So,” Tessa stated, “You drank a magic potion from a witchy woman, and now you can talk. Are there frog princes here, too?”

Buddy scoffed. “No. That would be silly.”

“And this isn’t,” Tessa replied. “Look, Buddy, I have a shoe and I’m not afraid to use it. You leave me alone, and I leave you alone. Deal?”

“Deal,” he said. “Good night, um-“

“Tessa.”

“Good night, Tessa. Don’t forget you set your alarm. Sleep well.”

The buzz of the alarm woke Tessa up. She slept surprisingly well, considering. OH GOD – WHERE’S THAT SPIDER? She looked up in the opposite corner of the room and noticed he created another web that he was sleeping in like a hammock. She had no idea that spiders slept. She put on her uniform and apron, brushed her teeth, and arranged her hair up in a bun for work. She tiptoed out of the room.

In the kitchen she made a cup of hot water from the sink and added the instant coffee. The smell filled the tiny apartment, and for a moment everything was normal. Then Buddy showed up.

“Hey, is that coffee I smell?

Tessa jumped out of the kitchen chair and spilled coffee on her shirt. “Now look what you made me do.” She tried cleaning it up.

“Try some vinegar and water. There’s an old bottle of vinegar in the cabinet by the stove,” Buddy suggested.

Tessa moved slowly to the cabinet, never moving her eyes off the spider. This could be a trick. Opening the cabinet, she saw a bottle with a small bit of distilled vinegar in it. She took it down and mixed it with a little water on a washcloth. She dabbed the coffee stain until it disappeared. “It worked. It worked. How did you know this would work?“

“I’ve been here a while. I notice things.” Buddy noticed the coffee. “Um, could leave just a tiny drop on the countertop for me? I promise I’ll clean it up.”

“Uh, sure.” Tessa used her finger to pull up a drop of coffee on the countertop as he asked. A spider that drinks coffee. “I have to go to work now, bye.” She waved. At a spider. Out the door she went.

Inside, Buddy spun a thin string of web toward the counter and crawled toward the drop of coffee. He drank it in, enjoying its flavor, and mostly its caffeine. Now he would make the craziest webs because caffeine is to spiders what catnip is to cats. Buddy left that little detail out.

At work, the counters at the bakery were busy. After the pandemic, people starting visiting shops and bakeries again. She served coffee, bagels, donuts, and danishes all morning. She was making good tips this morning, and the smile on her face grew. She watched a young man enter the bakery, and Tessa waited on him.

“May I get a bag of croissants?” he asked.

“Sure. How many would you like?”

“Two.” She seemed crestfallen. “I’m hungry this morning.” She smiled again and rang him up. She waved at him as he left; he waved back. All she could think of was telling Buddy when she got home. And then she laughed. The other servers looked at her, and she just lied about remembering a funny joke. Which a talking spider would be.

After her 8 hours at the F & S, she picked up her shift at the Hamilton Eatery for four more hours. At this place she was allowed to take home food leftover from the dinner crowd. Twelve-hour shifts, but she had to get paid if she wanted to make it on her own.

She brought her tips, payout, and food home to her apartment. When Tessa saw Buddy, he was on his back on the counter. She cried out to him, hoping he hadn’t died. Buddy immediately flipped over. “You scared me!”

“You looked dead,” she revealed.

Buddy said, “And you look like you’ve had a rough day. Let’s do yoga.”

“Pardon?” She wasn’t sure she heard him right.

“Yoga will relax you, ground you, and allow you to focus on you. Try it. Get a towel and put it on the floor beside the counter.”

Tessa shook her head but inwardly laughed. I’m learning yoga from a spider! They’re going to take me away! She changed into a pair of shorts and a tank top. She brough the towel into the kitchen and set it on the floor. “Now what?”

“First, stretch a little. Reach toward the sky, one arm at a time. Now bend down and touch your feet. Feel your muscles move.”

Tessa did as he instructed.

“Ok. The first move is downward dog. Put your hands on the front of the towel, lift your butt up, and your legs stay straight and down on the back of the towel. Stretch forward a little, then back a little.” He demonstrated it for her, and she did it.

“Next, lunge, one leg a time, and lift your arms slowly as you do each one.” Buddy lifted his two middle legs and did the lunge so she could see.

Tessa started giggling. “Oh. This can’t be happening.”

“It is. Now lunge.” Tessa lunged.

They practiced several poses, Buddy modeling, Tessa following. Buddy said, “Two more for tonight. Upward dog is next.” He admitted, “This one’s a little more difficult for me because my thorax doesn’t move this way, but yours does.”

“You mean abdomen?”

“Yes, that middle area.” She lay down on the floor, put her arms in from of her and lifted herself up. “Very good,” he said with praise.

She smiled. “This pose feels good.”

“It helps loosen up your chakras. The potion lady taught me.”

“Ok. What’s left?”

“The dead bug.” Buddy said with disgust. “I hate that name, but that’s what I was doing when you came in.”

“Oh. Maybe we can give it a better name. What do I do?”

“On your back. Lift your right arm and left leg at the same time. Then slowly bring it down on reverse it to left arm and right leg.” Buddy watched. “Oh, you’re a little uncoordinated there.”

Tessa glared at him. “Give me a minute. I have to think about this.” She practiced slowly until she got it right. “This is going to hurt tomorrow; I can tell.”

“Probably. You just have to keep practicing it every day. Now sit, cross-legged, and breathe. Breathe 5 seconds in, 5 seconds out.”

Tessa did as she was instructed.

“Now,” Buddy said, “Close your eyes. Keep the breathing going and add a vision of a perfect life.”

She closed her eyes, breathed deeply, and thought of the handsome young man at the bakery sitting on her faded sofa, his arm around her. Nothing else in the world mattered.

“That must be a special life. You did that for ten minutes.”

“No way,” she argued. “That wasn’t-“ and checking the clock, she saw it was. “But I’m so tired now.”

“Rested. You’re rested. Eat your meal, leave me a crumb or two – I don’t eat much, then it’s bedtime. I’m glad you’re home.”

“I’m….I’m glad I’m home, too. It’s nice to have someone to come home to, even if it’s a bu-“ she changed her words. “Buddy.”

“One word of advice. Take your salary and tip money and put it in the bank. Don’t keep it around here. Some of your neighbors aren’t trustworthy. Alliance Bank is nearby.”

“Ok,” Tessa said. “I’ll open a new account as soon as my new license comes in.” She paused a moment and said, “Thank you, Buddy. I had fun tonight.”

“I did, too, Tessa. Sleep well.”

She lived like this for a week, going to work, bringing home some good money, coming home to a personal yoga instructor, and having dinner together. She even bought a real pillow for her bead. No longer did it seem strange to have a spider in her room that she didn’t kill. At the end of the week, Buddy ended the day as he always did. “Sleep well.”

Tessa slept well, pleasant dreams swirling around her head. Then she felt something on her arm. A tickling sensation. Startled she almost swatted Buddy into oblivion. “What are you doing? I could have killed you!”

“SHHHHH! Call 911. There’s someone in the kitchen going through your things. The phone’s right behind you.” She called 911 and quickly provided information. “Now get the bar from the head of the bed, the one in the middle. It’s not welded, and it comes out easily. Hold on to that as a weapon but lie quietly under the sheet.” Tessa did as she was instructed. She was too terrified to make her own decisions at this point.

Her bedroom door opened, and she could make out a shadowy figure in the doorway. She slowed her breathing down, holding on to the metal bar tightly. The man in the room moved slowly toward the bed. He was barely four feet away when he started screaming, swatting at his neck like a crazed man. Tessa got up and wacked the guy’s knees until he crashed onto the floor, still flailing at his neck. She turned on the lights as the police showed up at the front door and came in.

“Are you hurt, ma’am? Do you need an ambulance?”

“No, no. I’m fine. He might, though. This guy came into my apartment. He was by my bed. I hit him with this,” and she showed them a metal bar with blood on it.

“Good thinking. You can put that away now. We’ll take it from here. You’ll have to get your window lock repaired, though – it looks like that’s how he came in. He must live in the next apartment.” They picked the intruder up and pulled his hoodie down. It was the man from the bakery with the ugliest face now that the police had him handcuffed.

“Howdy, neighbor. Thanks a lot,” he sneered as they dragged him out.

Tessa could not believe what had happened. She replaced the bar on the bed and hung the phone up. Then remembered Buddy. “Buddy! Where are you!” Frantically she checked the walls, the dresser – no sign of the spider.

A tiny voice called out, “I’m here, under the bed. A little shook up, but I’ll be all right.” She reached under the bed, and with one of the night’s receipts she picked him and placed him on the dresser. One of his legs was missing, and between two of his legs he still held a tack. “I don’t have fangs or big teeth. I normally eat smaller bugs, maybe a tick or two. I’m not even poisonous. But I know how to use a thumb tack. I got him good.”

“But your leg! Are you OK? What can I do?” Her concern was genuine for the spider who saved her life.

“I just need some time, a drop of water, a drop of jelly if you have any. I’ll grow a new leg in a week or two.”

“Buddy, of course I’ll get those for you. I don’t know what else I can say.”

“Just keep being you and getting better. You proved your worth, your bravery, your trust, and your strength. You a much better person than you give yourself credit for.”

She retrieved the tiny items he requested. “Thank you, Buddy. I owe you.”

“Sleep well. And don’t forget I’m on the dresser.”