The Secrets on Chicory Lane by Raymond Benson

Author:Raymond Benson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Skyhorse Publishing
Published: 2017-09-06T04:00:00+00:00

15

Eddie was released on bail the next day. He called when he got home, so I went across the street to see him. He was in the fallout shelter, lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Music I wasn’t familiar with was blaring—heavy rock and the dark, metal stuff, probably Black Sabbath. Eddie had been listening to a lot of Black Sabbath; he identified with the band’s Satanic imagery and themes. It wasn’t my cup of tea.

His mother had hired a lawyer and posted a five-thousand-dollar bail to get her son out of jail. “She’s not talking to me now,” he said.

“Eddie, why did you have to hit the man with a bottle? Couldn’t we have just walked out of the bar?”

“You heard what he said,” he answered. “Besides, I don’t think he would have let us walk out without following us and doing something in the parking lot.”

“Do you really go there often?”

“Not that often. There are a few kicker bars just outside the city limits that have a seediness that appeals to me.”

“Why?”

“I don’t expect you to understand.” With that, he lit a joint, inhaled deeply, and handed it to me.

“No, thanks.”

“Suit yourself.” He continued to take drags.

I didn’t know what else to say, and I didn’t want to stay. I got up. “Well, I need to help my mom with something today. I’ll see you later.”

As I returned to our house, thoughts churned in my head. Eddie was not the same person I had fallen in love with. What had changed him in such a short time? It had only been a few months since Christmas.

His lawyer contacted me after a few days, requesting a deposition, so I gave him one. It must have helped, for two weeks later at a preliminary hearing, the case was thrown out. No criminal charges would be filed against Eddie, but that didn’t mean the man wouldn’t file a civil suit. Luckily for Eddie, it didn’t happen. The man must have sucked it up to a few stitches and let it go.

One night, I went over to the bomb shelter with some trepidation. It was very early July, I remember, before the Fourth. The month of June had been a trying one for Eddie and me, and our relationship was strained. I cared about him a great deal, but when we saw each other it felt as if he was pushing me away. He was keeping secrets from me; I could tell. It was the way he acted; I can’t explain it. Most women have an innate ability to spot a liar. Not that I thought Eddie was lying to me, it’s just that there were things he wasn’t telling me. That afternoon, I had called and told him I wanted a “serious discussion.” He said, “Uh oh.” We agreed to meet at the bomb shelter at nine o’clock.

When I opened the squeaky steel door, I was hit with a thousand decibels of what I guess was Black Sabbath. I

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