The Dead Parade Read Online Free Page B

for the baby. He was never ready for the baby. So now the little feller is sitting outside and it’s February. And it’s as cold as tits on a seal out there and Harold’s gone to the mall. After a while he realizes what he’s done and holy shit does he feel bad. Real bad. So he comes racing home as fast as he can, but the guy lives downtown, you know? And when he gets home the cops are everywhere. The baby’s dead, got run over by a truck.”
    “ Oh shit.”
    “ Oh shit is right. And when the smoke finally clears, Harold gets two years. Needless to say, the girl hates him and her family hates him. In fact, both families hate him. And worst of all, he hates himself. So guess what? After he’s released from jail the first thing he does is get drunk. Then he phones his mother, says goodbye, and jumps off a fucking bridge. He kills himself.”
    “ Oh man, that’s hard,” Johnny said.
    “ Tell me about it.”
    James looked at the gun. It was inches away, hanging loosely in Johnny’s hand. Johnny seemed lost in thought. If James wanted the gun bad enough he could take it. He could reach right out and snatch it up. But James wasn’t snatching anything. He was so worried he was trembling. Talking. Keep talking, he told himself. Talking seems best.
    He said, “After the funeral I realized something. I’m not ready to be a dad. I decided that I’d never be a dad. And now this happens, and my mom expects me to take care of Mathew. She expects me to be a father. And I’m not ready, Johnny. I love the little guy, but I’m scared shitless. I’m scared I’ll make a mistake, a big mistake. I’m scared I’ll fuck up, like Harold did. I’m telling you, I’m not ready for this. The idea of caring for that kid scares me half to death.”
    The two men sat in silence.
    Looking at the gun, James ran both hands along his arms. He was cold. The house was freezing.
    “ You know what?” Johnny said, suddenly smirking.
    “ No, what?”
    “ Your five minutes are up.”
    Johnny didn’t shoot James. Instead, he slid the gun into his own mouth and tried his luck again. This time, the blast was deafening.
     
     
    11
     
    Anne sat with Mathew.
    A nurse named Patricia––who had a face like a mule if Anne ever did see one––entered the room asking Anne if she would like something to eat.
    “ A tea would be nice,” Anne said, offering a smile. “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, that is.”
    Patricia took a quick glance at Mathew’s chart, which was attached to a board at the front of the bed. She checked the IV, tilted her head to one side, and returned the smile. “No trouble at all, Mrs. McGee.” She spoke with that low-level cheer all nurses seem to be naturally equipped with. She sounded happy, but not too happy. She sounded like she cared but probably didn’t. “Is there a tea you’d like best, any particular flavor?”
    Anne considered her options, while running a finger along her rosary beads. “Earl Gray?”
    Patricia nodded. “I drink that myself, first thing in the morning. Can’t start my day without it. You like milk? Sugar?”
    “ Milk please. I don’t take sugar.”
    “ That’s the way I take it too, with a shot of milk. You and I are peas in a pod, Mrs. McGee. Oh yes we are. We’re two of a kind. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
    Anne smiled kindly. She noticed, for the first time since she had arrived, how medical everything smelled. She wondered if the woman had brought the medicinal smell in with her somehow. She wondered if something had been spilled in the hallway. The aroma was way beyond strong; it was almost science fiction. “No dear. The tea will be just fine.”
    Pat glanced at Mathew one last time with eyes that had seen it all. “One tea, coming up. I’ll be back in a few minutes. Maybe I’ll bring cookies. Sometimes I like to have a lemon cookie with my tea.”
    Again, Anne smiled. “Thank you,” she said, thinking, forget the cookies; I won’t eat them