In Dark Corners Read Online Free PDF Page B

all you're good for any more, feeling sorry for yourself and sucking up the sauce. So, where you coming from, calling me names?"
    Ian was stunned.
    Feeling sorry for himself?
    A drunk?
    He just stood there next to the desk, not really hearing the words as his son continued tearing him apart…
    Then the dark figure in the doorway suddenly became fuzzy, its shimmering outline gradually compressing to a pencil-thin, neon-blue edge—and abruptly, the outline flared briefly as the voice increased in volume then everything began to fade away.
    Before his son completely disappeared, Ian squeezed his eyes shut, as if to magically halt the weird process.
    Jesus, he was drunk on his ass.
    He blinked, refocused, but Liam had gone—and by the time Ian shuffled through the litter on the floor, the boy must have gone down the stairs. "Liam, wait," he whispered in vain.
    Then, stumbling quickly down the stairs in pursuit, he shouted frantically, "Liam?" At the foot of the staircase he listened, but heard no car pulling away. "Liam," he repeated hoarsely.
    From the kitchen, he heard his wife explain, "It's okay, Ian, he's going over to Tom's. He'll eat there."

    ***

    After pushing his dinner around on his plate and ignoring Sadie, Ian remained in the kitchen by himself. He'd considered another drink of whiskey, but thinking about what Liam had said, he settled for a can of Bud.
    He wasn't really a drunk. No way. He could quit or at least cut back any time he wanted. Sipping the beer, he decided he'd better have his vision checked though, maybe even a complete physical. Something strange was going on here with him, with people shimmering and then disappearing from sight. He'd known this welder at the Yard who developed seizures, apparently triggered by the arcing of his torch. The guy would fade out in the middle of a conversation for just a second or two, then come right back, but confused by what he'd missed. Ian wondered if it was possible that maybe he was experiencing some kind of petit mal seizures, too. A neurological problem brought on by the lay-off, the strange vision episodes triggered by any additional stress, like Denny's yapping about his drinking or Liam calling him a drunk—
    Brring!
    The phone interrupted his thoughts. Ian stood and picked up the receiver. "Hello."
    "Daddy, it's Dana," his daughter announced, excitement evident in her tone.
    "Hiya, Babe," Ian responded.
    "Got some news, Dad," she said, her voice a little more measured. "Are you sitting down?"
    "I am, now," he answered, finding his chair and can of beer.
    "I'm getting married next Saturday."
    "What—?" Ian asked, almost choking on the sip of Bud he'd taken to fortify himself against the impending news.
    "It's not a regular marriage, Daddy, not like you think," Dana explained, laughing. "This guy in my apartment complex, he was a student, but got some bum grades and dropped out. Anyhow, he needs to get married to stay in this country, because they're jerking his student visa. Are you following me?"
    Ian took a long pull on the Bud, then said, "Sorta." Keeping the receiver on his shoulder, he stood and poured himself a shot of Jack as his daughter continued.
    "He's really a great guy, and this will just be a ceremony of convenience, you understand?"
    Ian nodded dumbly.
    "He's from Uganda—"
    "Uganda?" Ian repeated as if he'd never heard of the country. "That's in Africa?"
    "You're right, Daddy," Dana said, laughing again. "Robert is an African. You know, like black."
    "Ah, isn't Uganda the country with a major AIDS problem, Babe?" asked Ian, unable to keep the slurred words apart or hide the concern in his tone.
    "Daddy have you been drinking again?" Dana said, more of a condemnation than a question. "You promised that all that..."
    Ian squeezed his eyes closed as her voice suddenly flared in intensity then began to gradually fade away, finally replaced by a hum—the dial tone.
    He sat there at the table for a few moments until he got tired of listening