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Back At Dawn Save as PDF
Chapters (39)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Dedication
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  39. Copyright

She laughed. So did I. I didn’t intend for it to be funny, but it was. Even I saw the comedy in it. When all else fails, use humor. Maybe I should write that down, put it over my desk, read it the next time I’m stuck. Humor, that’ll be the thing to bring me out of the lull and push the story forward.

Yes, I thought. Isn’t it pretty to think so?

twenty-seven

1

ON SATURDAY, JULY NINTH, a deep malaise pulled me from sleep. I had expected it to. Morning, a new day, the sun still hidden, dark and silent in its gloom. Happy birthday to you too, world.

It was 4:37 when I crawled from bed. Too early to do anything other than walk, everything closed, resting in the gray calm of early morning. I pulled on shorts, a T-shirt, tennis shoes. I grabbed a few slices of bread and pushed through the door and walked down the stairs and out into the darkened streets, where nothing stood sentinel save the buildings and trees and the streetlamps casting pale shadows across the faded terrain. I walked east and in ten minutes I crossed Lake Shore Drive, no cars other than what I could see in the distance. I entered a park of green grass and trees. To the south, a harbor full of boats; to the north, tennis courts and a golf course. God forbid the rich be without theirs.

I sat at the break wall with my feet over the edge while the waves below lapped endlessly. There were no birds to feed. The sun starting to rise, not quite on the horizon, but close, a pallid glow slowly breaking on the eastern edge of the vast expanse as far as the eye could see. I watched it grow, the colors fade and change and brighten, a new day beginning. I was certain the sun was already up in Ohio.

I broke the bread into small pieces and tossed it in the grass for anything interested in eating it. Walked home. Carolyn still asleep. I undressed, curled beside her. I knew I wouldn’t sleep, but didn’t know what else to do. I did know, however, that I didn’t want to be alone. I nuzzled against her warm body, slid my arm in the gap beneath her neck. Let the day begin and let the earth brighten. Let it all pass without me. Let this bed and this girl be my haven from the world beyond my walls. And may I stay safe within them.

2

I woke to my cell phone ringing. I rolled over, swiped it off the nightstand, looked at the caller ID. It was Carolyn. I glanced behind me. The bed was empty.

“Hey you,” she said.

“Hey.” I cleared my throat. “Where are you?”

“Upstairs.”

“What are you doing?”