The Bully (2)

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"Tony. TONY THE BULL." I mumbled, as I swung myself around on my stool and faced in his direction.

     "The bully of my seventh grade geography class," I thought.

     How many times that sorry guy had made fun of my big ears in front of the girls in my class? How many times this sorry son-of-a-gun had laughed at me because I had no parents and had to live in an orphanage? How many times this big bully slammed me up against the lockers in the hallway just to make himself look like a big man to all the other students?

     He raised his hand and waved at me. I smiled, returned the wave and turned back around and began to eat my breakfast.

     "Jesus. He's so thin now. Not the big burley guy that I remember from back in 1957," I thought to myself.

     All of a sudden I heard the sound of dishes breaking so I spun around to see what had happened. Tony had accidentally hit several plates knocking them off the table as he was trying to get into his wheelchair which had been parked in the bathroom hallway while they were eating. The waitress ran over and started picking up the broken dishes and I listened as Tony and his wife tried to apologize.

     As Tony rolled by me, being pushed by his wife, I looked up and I smiled.

     "Roger" he said, as he nodded his head forward.

     "Tony" I responded, as I nodded my head, in return.

     I watched as they went out of the door and slowly made their way to a large van which had a wheelchair loader located in the side door of the vehicle.

     I sat and watched as his wife tried, over and over, to get the ramp to come down. But it just would not work. Finally I got up, paid for my meal, and I walked up to the van.