2o0w6d0y's Journal
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Friday, December 31st, 2010
| Time |
Event |
| 2:11a |
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I tried to tell myself the picture might be
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I tried to tell myself the picture might be no
more than a figment of a mind that was still
trying to heal itselfAll my
voices were speaking clearly and coherently to one
another, and I knew what I knewPam had fucked
Max out there in Palm Desert, and when he had
suggested a longer, deeper commitment, she had
refusedPam had also fucked my oldest friend and
business associate, and might still be fucking him
209
The only unanswered question was which guy had
talked her into the rose on her tit
"I need to let this go," I said, and leaned my
throbbing forehead against the glassBeyond me,
the sun burned on the Gulf of Mexico"I really
need to let this go
Then snap your fingers, I thought
I snapped the fingers of my right hand and heard
the sound - a brisk little click"All right,
over-done with-gone!" I said brightlyBut then I
closed my eyes and saw Pam sitting on the bed -
some bed - in her panties, with a bra-strap lying
across her leg like a dead snake
Friends with benefits
Fucking friends, with fucking benefits
vii
That evening I didn't watch the sunset from Little
PinkI left my crutch leaning against the corner
of the house, limped down the beach, and walked
into the water until I was up to my kneesThe
water was cold, the way it gets a couple of months
after hurricane season has blown itself out, but I
210
hardly noticedNow the track beating across the
water was bitter orange, and that was what I was
looking at
"Experiment, my ass," I said, and the water surged
around meI rocked unsteadily on my feet, holding
my arm out for balance
Overhead a heron glided across the darkening sky,
a silent long-neck projectile
"Snooping is what it was, snooping is all it was,
and I paid the priceIf I sort of felt like strangling her all
over again, it was nobody's fault but my ownPeek
not through a keyhole, lest ye be vexed, my dear
old mother used to sayI peeked, I was vexed, end
of stor | | 2:19a |
@@@@@Thought of the long message Elizabeth
had
@@@@@Thought of the long message Elizabeth
had left on my answering machineThe anxiety in
her voiceShe'd said that I must take precautions
I came to a sudden decision and went back
downstairs, going as fast as I could without
falling
xi
Unlike Wireman, I don't lug my old swollen Lord
Buxton around with me; I usually tuck one credit
card, my driver's license, and a little fold of
cash into my front pocket and call it goodThe
wallet was locked in a living room desk drawerI
took it out, thumbed through the business cards,
and found the one with SCOTO GALLERY printed on it
in raised gold lettersI got the after-hours
recording I had expectedWhen Dario Nannuzzi had
finished his little spiel and the beep had beeped,
I said: "Hello, MrNannuzzi, this is Edgar
Freemantle from Duma Key I paused
briefly, wanting to say guy and knowing that
wasn't what I was to him"I'm the artist who does
440
the sunsets with the big shells and plants and
things sitting on themYou spoke about possibly
showing my workIf you're still interested, would
you give me a call?" I recited my telephone number
and hung up, feeling a little betterFeeling as
if I'd done something, at least
I got a beer out of the fridge and turned on the
TV, thinking I might find a movie worth watching
on HBO before turning inThe shells beneath the
house had taken on a pleasant, lulling sound,
their conversation tonight civilized and lowpitched
They were drowned out by the voice of a man
standing in a thicket of microphonesIt was
Channel 6, and the current star was Candy Brown's
court-appointed lawyerHe must have held this
videotaped press conference at approximately the
same time Wireman was getting his head examined
The lawyer looked about fifty, and his hair was
pulled back into a Barrister Ponytail, but there
was nothing going-through-the-motions about him
He looked and sounded investedHe was telling the
reporters that his client would plead not guilty
by reason of insanity
441
He said that MrBrown was a drug addict, a pornaddicted
sex addict, and a schizophre |
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