Asylum Lake Read Online Free PDF

to give him “the talk” out on that float; he wasn’t sure who had been more horrified. Now, like his dad, the float was merely one of a collection of memories that Brady rarely, if ever, revisited.
    I guess I don’t blame them. It would have been a tough reminder to have around. He sighed, this was the part he had been dreading for the past fourteen years; standing here and looking out as the lake brought the memories of his last days at the Up North House all rushing back.
    It was 1995 and shaping up to be the best summer of his young life. A summer of firsts, he thought, and almost of lasts. His first beer and kiss happened within a week of each other. Her name was April Mayer, a combination which Brady had found so cute, yet April had hated with a passion. To this day the smell of cherries reminded him of her chapstick. The stale, albeit exciting, taste of that warm beer came in a distant second to that kiss.
    They had met at Charlie’s, the small ice cream place in town. Summer never officially began for his family until they enjoyed their first cone from Charlie’s. Maybe it was the way she kept tucking her light brown hair behind her ear as it fell across her face when she leaned over to scoop ice cream. Or how her blue eyes sparkled under the visor she wore, but April took both his order, medium chocolate chip in a sugar cone, and his breath away.
    It was a wonderfully uncomfortable feeling; much like getting the wind knocked out of you from a punch to the stomach only a million times better.
    Every day for the next week he pedaled more than five miles each way for a banana split. His rationale: a banana split takes much longer to prepare than a simple cone, giving him more time to steal glances at her from behind his sunglasses. Twice he had waited in line only to have Maude, the heavyset woman who owned the place, swap-out April’s station behind the counter to take his order. Aside from the obvious disappointment, Maude was also known for being very stingy with the toppings.
    It took a week and nearly all of the birthday money from his grandmother, to muster the courage to say something other than “Banana split, please.” And even then, it wasn’t as if he had cleverly delivered a witty ice-breaker; although he had spent enough time in front of his mirror practicing. The best he could do was, “I like bananas.” He cringed as he thought back to what he had pathetically said so many years ago.
    Brady nearly fainted when she replied with her own nervous giggle. “That’s good, because you sure do eat a lot of them.” She noticed! He shouted inside his head and smiled. From that moment on they were nearly inseparable.
    Gruff walked down to the water’s edge, careful to keep Brady within sight. Ever since Karen’s death the dog had suffered from some kind of canine anxiety disorder. Sometimes, he would pace from room to room in that small apartment; as if he would somehow find her if he just kept searching. And whenever Gruff was left alone for more than a few hours he became destructive, chewing and clawing at the flooring and curtains.
    Dateline did a segment on pet anxiety disorders once and Brady remembered sitting on the couch with Karen and laughing at the people who took their pets to psychiatrists who treated them with antidepressants. But on the advice of a friend, Brady had set up his camera and caught it all on video. Watching it made him crumble inside. Although, in some odd way seeing Gruff grieve for Karen gave him permission to grieve, too. Part of his grieving process was letting her go in ways both big and small.
    Maybe that’s why I’m here. He pondered, still unsure of why he had decided to come back to the Up North House to put some distance between him and his memories of Karen.
    That’s the funny thing about memories; however, they can attach themselves to places…and things. No matter how much time or distance you give them, they wait for you to return and since his return