The Demon Read Online Free PDF Page B

conversation. Three people sitting at a dinner table, a man and a woman; a husband and a wife; a father and a mother—and their only child, a young man who adds joy to their lives. The atmosphere was calm, relaxed, the cigarette smoke drifting almost straight up, moving abruptly only when the air was disturbed with sudden laughter. There was love at the table.
      When they arrived at the party, Mrs. White took Harry from one old friend to another, introducing her son proudly, telling them of his fine position and future and what a wonderful son he was, his mothers and fathers pride and joy, Harry smiling enthusiastically when old friends shook his hand, smiled and told her she was fortunate, yes indeed, quite fortunate to have such a wonderful son, a regular chip off the old block, eh? Looks just like his father, doesnt he? Spittin image. But he has your eyes, Sara. Yep, he sure does. No mistaking that. Could tell he was your son a mile away in a blackout. Sara White beamed, and indeed, you could see her smile a mile away in a total blackout.
      And Harry followed his mother obediently, and happily, feeding off the joy that his being there made possible. He was making her happy and this in turn made him happy, and making his mother happy was something that he would try to do from time to time—or at least want to try—but somehow he could never seem to accomplish it, at least not on a consistent basis. For some unknown reason something
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    always seemed to happen to prevent him from bringing the smile to his mothers face, or if he did, he usually did something that would, at least, turn down the corner of her smile.
      But tonight he was not going to allow that to happen. He felt good, loose, relaxed, and was going to make this her night. And he smiled appropriately, at the proper time, and answered the usual queries with a bow, a smile, a quiet laugh and then an, Of course, now I remember. Sure. Mr. and Mrs. Lawry—or Little or Harkness, or whatever or whomever. It did not make any difference, the anecdotes were all pretty much the same about how he looked and what he did when he was two or three or four or whatever cute or fanciful age they remembered. And as Harry and Mrs. White left one couple to go to another, Harry knew that they were smiling and saying what a nice guy he was.
      Harry pretty well had his smile fixed for the night, so even after his mother finished with her introductions he continued to smile through the room full of familiar and unfamiliar faces. When he spotted his grandmother, his smile broadened and he put his arms around her and kissed her and kept his arms around her for a few moments. How you doin, grandma?
      O, just fine, son. You know, you cant keep the ol girl down, her eyes sparkling.
    Thatta girl, kissing her on the forehead.
    How are you, son? Everything going all right?
    Yeah, just great. Couldnt be better.
    O, thats good to—
    HEY! HEY EVERYBODY!!!!
    the oldest son of the
    golden anniversary couple waved his hands above his head, quiet for a minute ... we have to give a toast. Hey Mom, Pop, come over here. They walked across the room, dressed in their finery, faces and eyes glowing, as pleased and excited as children on their first Christmas morning as they stand, amazed, looking at the tree, the balls, tinsels and lights, the stockings and presents and feeling the excitement of Christ-
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    mas all around them. The son stood behind them and put his arms around them. Now everybody take a drink if you havent got one. The other children passed around with trays of manhattans, and then they went to stand near their parents. Mr. and Mrs. White joined Harry and his grandmother. O.K., everybody got a drink? ? ? ? Good. He raised his glass high, the others joining him. A toast to Mom and Dad for fifty short and beautiful years of marriage. For loving each other and loving us, and making the world a better place, and a little more crowded—chuckling and laughter—we all