Page 63 - The Myth and the Moment

Evening

Got it! Brass ring around the nucleus, burning in my hand, hot as
hell. Dizzy ride: I’ll jump off here. Won’t miss it, won’t miss me.
Miss, won’t you move over; I’ve got to sit down on the bus. So hot
by the window. Want to see what I’ve got, Allison? Bit of the sun,
bite of the son. Yeah, baby, it’s hot but I can handle it. What’s in
your purse? Looks loaded.
No! I’m in Phil’s back yard! Must have dozed off. Half in the
shade, sun’s moved. Got to be five o’clock already. Stand up: oh,
dizzy, dizzy. Nobody out here. Hungry; or something. Maybe an
ulcer, who knows? Didn’t eat much today. Eh? Note under the glass
on the table. ‘Nate: I hope you’re all right. Lin & I decided to let you
sleep while we went shopping. Would you stay for dinner? Let’s talk
some more. We can work this out if you let me explain a few things.’
“Bah!”
What kind of condescending crap is that? Time is not on my side
now. I’ve mostly got a lot of bluff going, and he may be out there
manufacturing or destroying evidence, bribing witnesses and judges,
rehearsing alibis written by the finest talent in the land: soap-opera
scribblers. And he’s playing some kind of psychological game with
me, trying to destroy my momentum, my self-confidence; once
blunted, righteous indignation cannot easily rehone its edge. Left me
to stew, he has, so my disorientation will work in his favor: no
antagonist in the flesh, so my brain creates one far more powerful. A
house divided has many mansions, most in a state of decay; that old
bit of biblical piety is pure baloney. How can the monotheists
possibly concede the validity of multiple incompatible revelations,
scriptures, churches, moralities? By the mere ineffability of their
source, I suppose. One good turn of illogic deserves another. Whoa:
I’m wandering. But I’m not agreeing with Phil, at least. He’s guilty.
I’m innocent, injured, and indignant. Damn him!
Well, if they’re not here, I’ll wait inside. Sliding screen door isn’t
locked. Wait! What if it’s a trap? He’s lurking in there with a shotgun,
ready to blast the intruder. ‘BURGLING POOL CLEANER
BUNGLES, SCRUBBED BY VIGILANT HOME-OWNER: End
to Trousdale Crime Wave?’ Great, just what he’d like: more publicity

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