Damnation of Adam Blessing by Packer Vin

Author:Packer, Vin [Packer, Vin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-4405-3716-5
Publisher: Fawcett Publications, Inc.
Published: 1961-09-10T04:00:00+00:00

PART TWO

12

“… and I often think of Timmy, too, and see him asleep on Billy’s mattress, afternoons when I would sit there in the dark and watch him. I suppose one of my smartest moves was to strip Billy’s bedroom of rugs, furniture and blankets during those few days when Tim was my guest, but I wish I had been able to make him more comfortable. It does not seem that a year has passed. Too much of it was spent in Bidart! Ah well — ”

FROM ADAM BLESSING’S JOURNAL

He was huskier now, not quite “plump.” He saw his reflection in the window of the small café, as he nursed an aperitif before lunch, at an outside table. His hair was no longer parted and cut short, but thick now, combed straight back with an almost pompadour effect, and longer than he wore it back home. He had grown a beard, too. In Europe no one looked twice at a man with a beard. Adam liked his — it gave him a certain dignity. To his surprise and delight, it had grown in darker than his hair, and the contrast was interesting. White-blond hair, nearly black beard, and his face was tanned from a spring of warm sun, spent in southern France. His jowls were a bit flabby, and his cheeks had filled out more than he liked, but he could blame that on the wretched starches the hospital had served continually. He was glad to be away from there; glad to be back in Paris. His breakdown had occurred in late January. One morning he had awakened in his room at the Quai Voltaire, to discover he had forgotten how to tie his shoes. A psychiatrist told him of the “rest” villa for overwrought businessmen, in southern France. It was located in a sleepy Basque village called Bidart. A total of five months Adam had spent there.

He ordered another Cassegrain. The restaurant was famous for this aperitif — a glass of Montrachet colored by a drop of black currant liquor from Dijon. In the months before his breakdown, he had come here often. He needed the stronger stuff in those days; no aperitifs about it. Now it was moderation in all things. Adam smiled, remembering Dr. Melnik’s advice: “Moderation in everything, Adam; moderation in moderation, too.”

A feeling of bitterness followed the smile. He had almost begun to trust Melnik; he had nearly believed they were friends. During the months Adam had been there for recuperation, Melnik had become fascinated with Adam’s handwriting analyses. For his own amusement, Adam had done analyses of his fellow patients. Most everyone had looked upon it as a form of “fortune-telling,” more than character reading; few had taken it seriously. It was considered great “fun.” Melnik knew better. He had studied graphology in Zürich, and he congratulated Adam on his remarkable intuitiveness. When Adam was practically recovered, Melnik often invited him to his quarters for dinner. Together they would discuss this one and that one, and Melnik would listen to what Adam had to say, as though Adam were a colleague.

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