9 Tales Told in the Dark 3 by 9 Tales Told in the Dark

Author:9 Tales Told in the Dark [Dark, 9 Tales Told in the]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bride of Chaos
Published: 2014-08-11T22:00:00+00:00

THE END.

BESS-----By John Grey

Johnny parked his car in the driveway of Dale’s raised ranch house. Funny how he’d run into Dale that afternoon. It had been years since they last spoke. Probably right after college. Johnny went to Chicago to pursue his career in medicine. He did his internship at a large suburban hospital, started a private practice in a northern lake-side community. Dale dropped out of medical school and headed right back to Crooked Bend to…what was it Dale did anyhow?

“Gotta come over. Meet Bessie. You won’t believe how beautiful she is, Johnny. You gotta see her. Man, she’s fantastic.”

Johnny wasn’t sure why he’d returned to Crooked Bend. He was never one for nostalgia. But there was always curiosity. And not even he was immune to that. So, one free weekend, for no particular reason other than nothing else to do, he drove south a hundred miles to the place of his birth.

“I wonder how much the old town has changed,” he thought to himself.

And it was when he was strolling down Main Street and stopped to peer into the window of Patterson’s department store that he realized that absolutely nothing had changed. Same shops. Same bank. Same diner. Same Chinese restaurant.

That took him all of a few minutes. So what to do next? Drive that hundred miles back? Dale Coogan put a stop to that. He spotted Johnny from across the street, recognized him instantly.

“Come on Johnny, I’ll buy you a beer. Wait a minute. You never were a beer drinker. How about a scotch?”

“Sure, a scotch,” he replied.

“Just gotta make a call to the old lady. Tell her I’ll be late.”

Dale muttered into his cell phone for five minutes or more, out of Johnny’s hearing.

They stopped in at the bar. Donovan’s of course. It looked no different from the night of Johnny’s first legal drink, ten or more years before. But after one round, Dale suggested they go back to his place. He had beer in the fridge. He had scotch. And he had Bessie.

The Coogan home was middle-class, neatly-kept which surprised Johnny because Dale had always been such a slob. The lawn was cut. The curtains in the window went with the fresh paint on the outside. The flower garden sparkled colors in the early spring afternoon. Johnny figured that Bess must be quite a champion home-maker.

“So how long have you been married?” Johnny asked as he followed Dale through the front door.

“Married?” A weird look crossed his face. “Oh Bessie and I ain’t married. She just lives here.”

Johnny tried to slip his old buddy that kind of knowing glance from years before but his eyes wouldn’t cooperate.

Dale ushered him into the parlor. They both sat and talked for some time. Dale fiddled with the television remote, accidentally turned the large flat-screen on every so often, then quickly turned it back off.

“Don’t suppose you want to watch anything,” he stammered. “You must excuse me. Don’t get to see much of the old crowd any more. Everybody’s moved out.

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