Rum, Sodomy, and False Eyelashes by Scott Phillips

Author:Scott Phillips
Language: eng
Format: azw3, mobi, epub
ISBN: 9780983585152
Publisher: Concord ePress
Published: 2011-05-29T04:30:00+00:00

He made it home without serious incident and parked a couple of doors down, not wanting to go in right away. He sat there for a long time with the motor running to keep warm, thinking about all the sublime possibilities stretching out before him, all the other things he could learn to do if he wanted. He wished he’d thought to ask Ruth and Teresa the title of the record, or who’d recorded it, and then it came to him that since he knew the damned thing by heart now, he could just go to the record store and sing it for the clerk. He also regretted not asking what exactly they’d put in the bourbon, but he remembered where to find them, and he was pretty sure they’d be happy to see him again. He looked up to see a neighbor, in pajamas and bathrobe, peering cautiously into the passenger window. Jerry rolled it down. “Howdy, Danny.”

“You okay, Jerry? You been sitting out here a long time.”

“Oh, I’m okay, thanks. Guess I’d better get inside. Carol’s probably got dinner on.” He glanced at the dashboard clock. It was ten past midnight. He turned the van’s engine off and walked over to his own house, leaving his neighbor standing alone in the street.

Crossing the dry winter lawn he saw Carol sitting up in the living room waiting for him. For the first time in a long time he was delighted to see her, and he quickened his stride, anxious to tell her about the afternoon’s events. He stopped before he reached the door. Surely she was angry with him for being out so late without calling. He giggled at the thought of his unfaithful wife’s concern for his well-being and decided he’d wait until she had gone to bed to go inside. He walked around to the back yard and sat down at the foot of the big oak, resting his arm on the wooden seat of the swing he’d installed for the kids years before, following various tangential thoughts as his face got colder and colder.

Finally a pale yellow light came on in the bedroom window upstairs and after a few seconds went off again. He waited a few more minutes and went in as quietly as he could through the back door. The skin of his face felt tight and numb in the warm air of the kitchen, and as he wondered how long he’d been outside he realized that at some point in the day he’d lost his watch. He looked up at the clock mounted over the kitchen doorframe. It was three forty-five, almost time to head out to Shattuck. He was aware that he was free to go to bed instead, but this was the last morning of his old route, and he felt a strong sentimental urge to run it one last time.

He passed through the house and out the front door, leaving it standing open, and crossed the street to the truck.

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