Shortest Day Read Online Free PDF

really freezing. The cold was no surprise, because the days were growing shorter as the Northern Hemisphere leaned away from the sun and raced into the shadow. Arlo hunched his shoulders and thrust his gloved hands into his pockets and warmed himself by thinking about Sarah Bailey. Her embraces were worth remembering. Sarah was all warmth and red cheeks, frowsy red hair, uncoordinated pieces of clothing, and pillowed surfaces. In Sarah a generous mother nature had created a messy masterpiece. Her affection was a congratulation from the center of the earth. Unfortunately, it didn’t mean anything in particular. Sarah hugged everybody. Her wholesome regard for the entire human race radiated in all directions, landing on tables and chairs.
    It was too bad. Arlo thought of the other women in his life, a couple of girlfriends with whom he had been violently in love at one time or another. They had been like fleshly gardens full of flowering promise, but just below the surface they had turned out to be rock, solid rock, like the granite ledges under his mother’s lawn.
    The first had been a pretty woman with the perfect features of her wealthy ancestors, people with their pick of eligible mates. Cindy had learned in prep school to rule nations and govern empires. Her voice was loud and commanding. Arlo guessed she would settle for running the Milton Academy phonathon and the capital drive for the Boston Museum of Fine Arts.
    The second was classic New Age. To try was all scented candles, aromatherapy, Tarot cards, and Birkenstocks. For his birthday she had given him a crystal to dangle over his arm. He couldn’t make it work. “Look,” Totty said, “see what happens when I do it.” Suspended over her own arm, the crystal began at once to swing gently, then faster and faster. “You’re making it do that,” said Arlo. “No, no, I swear, it’s my own subconscious energy. I’m not doing a thing.”
    Arlo the scientist had said, “What exactly do you mean by energy?” and Totty had talked about vibrations and auras and forces and pretty soon they were shouting at each other.
    From these two, Arlo had learned to be wary of hockey trophies and loud voices, bangles, spacey music, and Indian sitars. Therefore he was cautious, perhaps too cautious. Probably he just didn’t know how to talk to women.

    But with Sarah Bailey you wouldn’t have to figure out how to talk. You could just be yourself. Well, it didn’t matter. Sarah was unavailable, she was married. Naturally she was married. All the good ones were attached to somebody else. Arlo wondered what her husband was like when he wasn’t committing manslaughter. Did he deserve a wife like Sarah?
    Cautiously Arlo pushed open the door of the Science Center, hoping to avoid the old man who usually occupied the corner of the entry on cold nights. But Guthrie was there. Arlo flinched, and tried to hurry past him, but the old man stretched out his hand. “Hey, guy, I wanta tell you something, I wanta tell you something.”
    Arlo stopped and turned back. “What is it, Guthrie?” he said warily, remembering all the times he had been bored to death by Guthrie.
    â€œDidn’t you know? They run me off. I tell you, for what? For what? What did I do? Nothin’! They run me off! I didn’t do nothin’, and they run me off. For WHAT? Listen, I wanta tell you something.” The old man beckoned to Arlo, then reached out with unexpected strength and pulled Arlo’s face down to his own. “See, I just wanta tell you something.”
    â€œWell, what is it?” said Arlo. “What do you want to tell me?”
    The old man smiled. His smile was saintly. “Listen, I mean, I like you, I respect you. I just wanta tell you they run me off! For WHAT? I ask you, for WHAT?”
    Arlo gave him a dollar, and made a rush for the elevator, while behind him the old man tried to catch a couple of