A Most Unpleasant Wedding Read Online Free PDF Page B

prescription for Tylenol #3. He’d gone to the library, taken a couple of the pills, sat in a dark corner, and rested for an hour. After that, he’d made his way to the hotel for a bowl of soup. Then he started to walk home. A guest at the West Wind had come upon him weaving along the road and had given him a ride to the laneway. He’d fallen asleep on the couch, woken sometime later in pain. He’d taken two more pills and sat down in the recliner, meaning to watch the evening news. That was the last thing he remembered before the engine woke him.
    He ratcheted the recliner into a sitting position as he heard footsteps on the veranda. The door burst open. He caught a glimpse of Evelyn as she switched on the light in the hallway and hammered up the stairs. He reached for the table lamp, finally located it, and turned it on. The glass he had tipped over had, fortunately, been empty. He looked around for his pain pills, spotted them on the floor a few feet from his chair. He was trying to figure out if he had the wherewithal to get up and get them when Evelyn came downstairs.
    â€œEvelyn?”
    She turned, startled.
    He grinned. “I dropped my pills. Could you get them for me? And a glass of water, please?”
    Her surprise turned to anger. “Get your own pills, you pathetic…” The words dissolved in an explosion of disgust. She spun and slammed out the door.
    He shrank back against the cushions, stunned. Finally, he got up, made his way to the kitchen, ran the tap for a glass of water, and dropped into a chair at the table. Gave a mirthless laugh as he realized he had left his pills in the living room. He wobbled back to the living room, bent to pick up the bottle. The change in position brought on a wave of vertigo. “OK, soldier,” he muttered, “you can do this.” He snared the bottle, then grabbed the edge of the coffee table and levered himself up. He went back to the kitchen and took the pills. He sat down, resting his head against the wall. The wing of his glasses bit into his temple. He took them off and stuffed them into his breast pocket.
    He dozed off, woke to a high-pitched whinny. He sat for a few minutes, trying to clear his head.
    He thought of the expression on Evelyn’s face. Anger? Surprise? He swallowed hard. Maybe pure hatred. He shook his head. Evelyn didn’t hate him. Maybe impatience. She’d been impatient with him lately. He paused. Maybe for a long time.
    He needed to talk to her. He reviewed what he would say. Talking to Evelyn was like walking on eggshells these days.
    He got up and went out onto the veranda. Evelyn’s car was in its usual spot. He surmised she was in the stable. Probably telling the horses her secrets. He shrugged. Lately, he’d taken to confiding in the horses himself. He sagged against the pillar, deflated. God, he needed a cigarette. He patted himself down, searching for his Player’s Regulars, found them in his hip pocket. There were four cigarettes left, all bent, two broken at the filter. He removed one of the salvageable ones, straightened it, and lit up. He inhaled deeply. The cigarette comforted him, gave him a modicum of clarity. He dragged on it as he made his way down the path to the barn.
    The stable door was open.
    â€œEvelyn?”
    No response.
    He plunged the cigarette into a pot of sand by the door and entered the stable. He felt his way along the box stalls past Gert and Maisie. Bob plucked at his shirt as he passed.
    â€œSorry,” he mumbled, “I didn’t bring you anything.”
    Ned’s stall was empty. He stood there, staring into the empty space as if he expected the horse to be hiding in a corner, then backed away. He supposed Evelyn had taken Ned for one of her nocturnal jaunts up the laneway. She did that when she was trying to sort something out. The horses were her soulmates. Sometimes, he thought she loved the horses more than she loved him. He laughed, a laugh