there was. There was nothing else. There was nothing wrong! Have you ever heard of Christian love? Pureness and sweetness and thankfulness? Have you ever heard of that?”
The light flashed on as Adrienne pushed the door open, the door slammed shut and she was gone.
Wilf watched her run across the road holding her coat tightly against her small body.
He looked up at the window.
The face had disappeared.
CHAPTER EIGHT
There was no light on in the study. Wilf left it that way, felt for another bottle of rye he knew was in the liquor cabinet, tucked it under his arm and made his way up the stairs.
He sat down on the edge of his bed, snapped the light on, opened the bottle and took a drink. He looked around the room. He took another drink.
This was the real world. Maybe he should try to stay in it. Cling to it with all his might. Two chairs. The dresser. The outside wall. It was three bricks thick. His father had told him that a long time ago. To keep the cold wind out. The elements. They seemed to be clawing outside right now.
Wilf took another drink.
It wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility that Adrienne was innocent. Maybe the old man had asked her to make a copy of his key for reasons of his own and she was going up to Galt anyway, it was just another errand to run. Another one of her Christian errands. That was all it was.
Wilf thought about his sleeping pills. They were waiting for him, sitting inside the bathroom cabinet. Maybe he’d try three.
She could hardly have stopped the old man from making a will, if that’s what he’d wanted to do.
Wilf began to pull off his clothes, struggling one-handed out of everything until the only thing he had left on was the sling that supported his arm.
He could see Adrienne’s eyes, fresh tears shining.
Dirty filthy mind, she’d said. He should be ashamed.
He did feel ashamed.
Wilf stood in the yellowish light from his lamp and looked at his reflection in the mirror. He unbuttoned his sling, his arm dropped limply to his side. His left shoulder and his left hip and leg were rippled with scars. Some places were shiny as silk, some veined and scaled and faintly blue.
“Hello, monster,” Wilf said.
* * *
“Wake the hell up. Come on!” Andy seemed to be pleading. He seemed to be pushing Wilf on his shoulder. “Jesus, you must have tied a good one on last night.”
Wilf opened his eyes a little. The morning light hurt. His head hurt.
Andy looked to have a suit on under his overcoat. Wilf could see a multicoloured tie dangling down inches from his face. He could see the half-empty rye bottle nestled on the pillow beside him.
“Mmmm,” Wilf said and struggled to sit up. He held his arm against his chest so Andy wouldn’t have to see it flopping around.
“I knocked. I yelled. Nothing worked,” Andy was saying, looking a little embarrassed now. Or shocked. He walked over to the bedroom window and peered out as if he’d just remembered that something of extremely compelling interest was going on outside.
Wilf dragged his legs over the edge of the bed.
“I came to tell you about that pill bottle,” Andy said.
“What time is it?”
“Almost noon.”
“Why are you dressed up?”
“Well, there’s lots of excitement. Some bigwigs are in town.” Andy couldn’t contain himself, he turned back to Wilf. “Jesus, don’t you want to know about that pill bottle, for chrissake?”
Wilf reached for his underwear. It was lying on the floor.
“Wilf, you were right. They found prints on it that matched up with her prints on the glass. She had to be there that night. She was there!”
Andy’s face had gone bright red. Wilf hadn’t seen him look so excited since grade school.
“It only proves she was in the house.” Wilf’s throat felt raw. “It doesn’t prove anything else.” He tried to measure his own feelings but he couldn’t reach them.
“Wilf, after she went to work this morning the OPP picked up her boyfriend. He’s already crying his
The light flashed on as Adrienne pushed the door open, the door slammed shut and she was gone.
Wilf watched her run across the road holding her coat tightly against her small body.
He looked up at the window.
The face had disappeared.
CHAPTER EIGHT
There was no light on in the study. Wilf left it that way, felt for another bottle of rye he knew was in the liquor cabinet, tucked it under his arm and made his way up the stairs.
He sat down on the edge of his bed, snapped the light on, opened the bottle and took a drink. He looked around the room. He took another drink.
This was the real world. Maybe he should try to stay in it. Cling to it with all his might. Two chairs. The dresser. The outside wall. It was three bricks thick. His father had told him that a long time ago. To keep the cold wind out. The elements. They seemed to be clawing outside right now.
Wilf took another drink.
It wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility that Adrienne was innocent. Maybe the old man had asked her to make a copy of his key for reasons of his own and she was going up to Galt anyway, it was just another errand to run. Another one of her Christian errands. That was all it was.
Wilf thought about his sleeping pills. They were waiting for him, sitting inside the bathroom cabinet. Maybe he’d try three.
She could hardly have stopped the old man from making a will, if that’s what he’d wanted to do.
Wilf began to pull off his clothes, struggling one-handed out of everything until the only thing he had left on was the sling that supported his arm.
He could see Adrienne’s eyes, fresh tears shining.
Dirty filthy mind, she’d said. He should be ashamed.
He did feel ashamed.
Wilf stood in the yellowish light from his lamp and looked at his reflection in the mirror. He unbuttoned his sling, his arm dropped limply to his side. His left shoulder and his left hip and leg were rippled with scars. Some places were shiny as silk, some veined and scaled and faintly blue.
“Hello, monster,” Wilf said.
* * *
“Wake the hell up. Come on!” Andy seemed to be pleading. He seemed to be pushing Wilf on his shoulder. “Jesus, you must have tied a good one on last night.”
Wilf opened his eyes a little. The morning light hurt. His head hurt.
Andy looked to have a suit on under his overcoat. Wilf could see a multicoloured tie dangling down inches from his face. He could see the half-empty rye bottle nestled on the pillow beside him.
“Mmmm,” Wilf said and struggled to sit up. He held his arm against his chest so Andy wouldn’t have to see it flopping around.
“I knocked. I yelled. Nothing worked,” Andy was saying, looking a little embarrassed now. Or shocked. He walked over to the bedroom window and peered out as if he’d just remembered that something of extremely compelling interest was going on outside.
Wilf dragged his legs over the edge of the bed.
“I came to tell you about that pill bottle,” Andy said.
“What time is it?”
“Almost noon.”
“Why are you dressed up?”
“Well, there’s lots of excitement. Some bigwigs are in town.” Andy couldn’t contain himself, he turned back to Wilf. “Jesus, don’t you want to know about that pill bottle, for chrissake?”
Wilf reached for his underwear. It was lying on the floor.
“Wilf, you were right. They found prints on it that matched up with her prints on the glass. She had to be there that night. She was there!”
Andy’s face had gone bright red. Wilf hadn’t seen him look so excited since grade school.
“It only proves she was in the house.” Wilf’s throat felt raw. “It doesn’t prove anything else.” He tried to measure his own feelings but he couldn’t reach them.
“Wilf, after she went to work this morning the OPP picked up her boyfriend. He’s already crying his
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