Waking Anastasia Read Online Free PDF

not possible.”
    ~Frank Zappa
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    THREE HOURS LATER the sun had just set and Jerry was finally on the road back home to St. Marys, having used the excuse of the two-hour winter drive to turn down his mother’s insistent dinner invitation, and the no-doubt long list of tasks that always awaited his attention at her townhouse. She’d not been happy, but Jerry was worn out and beyond worrying about either his mother’s driveway or her mood. If nothing else had come of the day, he’d made his decision about the West Coast. He opened a cold can of Pepsi and took a long, thirsty sip.
    “Ahhh . . . pure ambrosia.” With one hand on the steering wheel he slipped a white ear bud into his right ear and pulled his iPhone out of his pocket. Grabbing quick peeks at the road between button pushes, Jerry dialled Manny in Victoria. Manny answered on the third ring.
    “JERRY! Talk to me, mate!”
    “Manny, I have to give two weeks’ notice here and will need another week to ship my stuff and drive out, but I can be there by Christmas.”
    “Bloody marvellous, Jerr! I knew you’d come ’round sooner or later. Glad it was sooner. Will your girlfriend be joining you?”
    “She’s now the ex-girlfriend.”
    “Damn. Sorry to hear it. But don’t you worry none, Jerr—lots of beauties here on the island and some of them are even under fifty.”
    “To be honest, Manny, I’m looking forward to losing myself in the new job for a while. Some days I think my luck with women has been bad since birth.”
    “You got it, Jerr. You want me to take care of the apartment for you?”
    “That’d be great, Manny. I’m going to have enough stuff to worry about at this end that if I know there’s a warm, dry roof over my head waiting for me out there, it’ll take a lot of pressure off.”
    “You name it, mate, we’ll have it done for you. Just put my phone number on anything you ship out and we’ll take care of it when it arrives. I can’t tell you how much we’re really looking forward to your joining us, Jerr.”
    “Likewise. It’s just the kick-in-the-ass my life needs.”
    “Perfect! Call me Monday in the A.M., and we’ll get the paperwork scanned and emailed to you for signing. In the meantime, have a great weekend, cuz I know I will.”
    “I’ll do my best. Thanks, Manny.”
     
    TIME ONCE AGAIN drifted along aimlessly, but she’d long ago grown accustomed to it, so she relaxed. Wherever she was, it now had at least a veneer of safety to it, and that was just fine with her.
     
    A WEEK LATER , Jerry’s apartment looked like Mavis’ had the week before, with everything in boxes, and boxes everywhere. The key difference was that many of Jerry’s boxes were labelled “For Salvation Army”, and the music playing was Harry Chapin’s “Old College Avenue”, rather than Glenn Miller. He picked up an empty liquor store box to fill with books but stopped when he saw the still unopened shoebox on the floor behind it.
    “That’s where you’ve been hiding. No time better than the present to open a present.” Jerry took the shoebox over to the box-covered couch and coffee table. He fit into a narrow spot left on the couch and placed the Hush Puppies box on top of a sealed-and-ready-to-go bin on the rustic barn-board coffee table. With a gentle pull of one end of the string it was undone and fell away. Carefully, reverently, Jerry opened the box, finding the $20 bill first.
    “Good old Aunt M. I’m twenty-four and she still slips me money whenever she can.” Next was an envelope with his name on it, but he caught sight of a photo beneath it and put the envelope to one side. He wiped his hands on his jeans, then, as an afterthought looked down at them. They were filthy from moving and packing. “Damn. Not good.” He left the box on top of the bigger box, went into the bathroom, and washed and dried his hands thoroughly.
    When he was sure his hands were as clean as he could get them, he