After Life Read Online Free PDF Page B

to the
    bedroom. She listened after him.
     
    Strange how she had come to be able to sense his mood even in the way he
    walked. But then again, she could tell a great deal about someone from
    the way they walked. Heavy ponderous steps conjured up the image of a
    big person or someone with a lot on his mind. Light tread was carefree,
    young. She could sense age, temperament, confusion, firmness, and
    determination just from the sounds of footsteps.
     
    That's what made those footsteps she had heard before so confusing, she
    thought, now that she recalled them more thoughtfully. They were fast,
    energetic, but there was an intermittent shuffle, especially after
    whoever it was went out of the house.
     
    Yes, she thought, almost crying out, the dying away of sounds it didn't
    come because of distance it came because the footsteps changed until it
    sounded more like the individual was dragging himself or herself over
    the walk. How odd, she thought, but she put her confusion aside for the
    moment and went into the kitchen to get the dinner on the table.
     
    Lee's mood was dramatically changed when he returned from his quick
    shower. It was as if the water had washed away the turmoil that had
    somehow formed a crust of depression over him.
     
    I am hungry, he announced, slapping his hands together, and this does
    look great. I don't know how you do it.
     
    From memory mostly, she said. Don't forget, I did a lot of cooking for
    my mother before I met you.
     
    Well, remind me to thank her for being so lazy, Lee quipped, and
    laughed.
     
    You want to talk about your day now or wait until after we eat? Jessie
    asked.
     
    Naw, it's all right. The regular day went great.. .
     
    small classes, manageable, most of the kids quite nice.
     
    I met a few more faculty members, mostly old-timers, from the house in
    which old man Carter and the Overstreets lived.
     
    For a moment the driver focused on the lighted windows upstairs. Then
    the truck inched forward as if on its own.
     
    A startled owl flew off a nearby tree limb and sailed across the truck's
    path before disappearing into the night.
     
    The driver didn't seem to notice. Nothing took his concentration off
    the windows. Not more than fifty feet from the house, he stopped the
    truck again and just stared. Finally he lit a cigarette. Its glowing
    ash looked like the single eye of a terrified alley cat reflecting the
    stray glitter from garbage cans. The driver rolled down his window, but
    the escaping smoke was barely visible.
     
    After a few more moments he flipped the cigarette into the night. It
    landed with an explosion of sparks and remained a tiny, red-orange bead
    against the blackness.
     
    A shadow crossed the first lit window.
     
    Reaching over to the dashboard, the driver of the truck opened the glove
    compartment and took out a pint bottle of rye whiskey. He unscrewed the
    top carefully and took a long swallow. He shuddered as the whiskey
    burned down his throat and warmed his chest. Then he screwed on the
    bottle cap and put the bottle back in the glove compartment, catching a
    glimpse of himself in the rearview mirror. Only he didn't see himself;
    he didn't see a drawn, unshaven man with sunken cheeks and a pronounced
    jawbone. He didn't see his own bloodshot eyes or his disheveled, thin
    brown hair. Instead he saw the face of a teenage boy, round and full of
    health, a face of smiles and optimism. The driver paused to smile back.
     
    Just a little while longer now, Paulie boy, he muttered Just a little
    while longer. You're gonna know it, too, boy. I can feel it. It's
    gonna wake you up, bring you back to the way you was. Just a little
    while longer.
     
    The dark silhouette in the house moved across a second window. The
    driver reached behind his seat and brought out a rifle.
     
    Oh yeah, Paulie boy, he muttered. Oh yeah.
     
    He started to open the truck door, but the handle didn't turn. He
    pressed down on it again and again. It didn't move. He leaned