Eidolon Avenue by Winn Jonathan

Author:Winn Jonathan [Jonathan, Winn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: epub, ebook, QuarkXPress
ISBN: 978-0-9922414-2-1
Publisher: Crystal Lake Publishing
Published: 2016-01-15T06:00:00+00:00

APARTMENT 1D

ANNIVERSARY

Monday, 3:24 PM

We are a walking history of our failures,” Marta said as she snapped the napkin open and laid it across her lap. “A stumbling catastrophe of unbelievable screw ups that, as you can plainly see, screwed us up.” She laughed, the tight smile on her gleaming lips held a moment longer than needed. “Really, it’s just been an endless array of aborted endings. Until now, I mean.” Her pudgy hand lifted her champagne glass—her sixth, but who was counting?—in yet another toast to the elegant man seated to her side. “And for that, we thank you, Mr. Peabody.”

“I promise, this time we’ll get it right,” the stranger said with a small nod.

Even here, surrounded by the decay that was Eidolon, he seemed to fit. Untouched by the yellowing walls and the splintered baseboard, the brown stains running from the ceiling or the thin windows that rattled when the wind blew and rain pelted the glass, as it did now, this Peabody was neither tall nor short, neither handsome nor plain, neither this nor that or even the other thing. He just was.

Minus the saddlebag hips and flabby middle, she saw herself in him. Kind face. Easy smile. A steady gaze. A someone who was anonymously forgettable in the most wonderful way. So forgettable in fact, she imagined that, if he wanted to, this man could probably kill in broad daylight and still escape the recollections of even the most ardent witnesses. Because who expects something that evil from someone who’s such a nothing, right?

But right here, right now, seated at the long table, a modest buffet waiting, a candle flickering in the center, he was here and he was perfect. The answer to all she wanted tonight to be. Peabody and a bottle of champagne: the perfect combination, she thought as she took another long drink.

She looked at her beloved Benji at the other end of the table. He sat quiet, riddled with the wounds of his mistakes. Their mistakes. So very far from the man she’d married fifty years ago tonight, he was darn near unrecognizable. Their life since coming to Eidolon like a long, slow circling of their graves.

But now Benji’s handsome face was gaunt and pale, thin wisps of white clinging to his scalp like squatters on land that hadn’t yielded a crop in years. His scrawny shoulders were still square, though one sat higher than the other, and his head tilted ever so slightly to the side giving him a lopsided smile. His bowl of broth sat untouched in front of him, his remaining fingers—three on one hand, two on the other, the thumbs still intact—looking much too thin as they rested on the white tablecloth.

Red wine dribbled from his lips. “Sweetie,” she said as she gestured for him to wipe his chin.

He ignored her, his gaze fixed to the ceiling above her head.

Sighing, she struggled to rise, the napkin clutched in her hand.

“May I—?” Peabody rose as well.

“No, no, no. I’m fine.” She winced, her left leg dragging behind as she took the seven steps to Benji’s chair.

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