Read Online Falling for June: A Novel by Ryan Winfield - Free Book Online
Authors: Ryan Winfield
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asked, seeing me stumble.
“I’m fine,” I said, shaking it out. “Where did you say the bathroom was again?”
“Just down the hall there on your left.” He reached for his cane and started to rise. “I’ll make you some more tea.”
“No thanks,” I said. “The one cup seems to be working as advertised.”
I didn’t think I was away that long, but when I returned from the shitter the old man was gone and there was a glass of water and a plate of sliced apples on the coffee table in front of where I had been sitting. When Mr. Hadley reappeared, he was carrying a plate of apple slices for himself and a glass of milky liquid that I could tell tasted terrible just by how it looked.
“I thought you might like a little snack,” he said, indicating the apples with a nod. He set down his plate and took up his cane to lower himself into his chair again. “I’m supposed to take my medication with food, but an apple’s about all I can stomach any longer before noon. That and MoonPies.”
“Thanks,” I said, biting into an apple slice, then adding quietly, “Just what I need after that Smooth Move tea too, more fiber.”
I said it under my breath but I could tell he heard me because he laughed. I guess those hearing aids worked pretty well. Then he said, “It’s a lovely sound, isn’t it? The crunch of an apple. Have you ever heard a horse eat one?”
“No, I don’t think I have.”
“Well, maybe later we’ll go out and feed one to Rosie.”
“You have horses here?”
“Just Rosie. I’ve managed to place all of the other animals elsewhere, but Rosie’s blind and she’s been rather bad off since her seeing-eye horse passed away. She can’t eat a whole apple at once any longer, on account of her missing teeth, but she still loves them. June spoiled her something terrible and she almost expects one every day. Won’t touch a carrot, but she sure loves apples.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, where will Rosie go?”
I didn’t say it exactly, but by “where will Rosie go?” I meant when the bank foreclosed. He seemed to understand, though, anyway.
“She’ll be gone by then,” he said.
“Yeah, but where?”
“Who can say until they get there,” he mused, with a bit of a twinkle in his old eye.
He pulled his bridge from his mouth and picked a piece of apple peel free that was caught in its wires. Then he smiled at me with no front teeth. “Don’t get old if you can help it, kid. You start losing pieces of yourself. What doesn’t fall out, they want to cut out. Of course, of everything I’ve lost I probably miss my mind the most.” He laughed at his own joke and slapped his knee. Then he reinserted his bridge and picked up his drink. He winced when he sipped it. I knew it tasted bad.
“Are the apples enough for you?” he asked. “I have some microwave dinners.”
I assured him that I was fine, and he leaned back in his chair. Then he smiled again, this time with all his teeth.
“Shall I continue with my story then?”
“Sure, but I do have a question. I’m assuming that was your wife, June—the lady on the roof with the parachute. But I’m curious why she wasn’t wearing any shoes.”
“That’s a good question, Elliot,” he replied. “A good fine question. And I wondered the same thing. Especially after I found her boots . . .”
6
H E FOUND HER boots sitting neatly together on the top step just inside the roof access door, with the socks stuffed inside. Why she had left them there before jumping he could not have guessed at the time. Perhaps they had been part of her disguise, he mused, or perhaps she had planted them as a kind of false clue. They were old worn hiking boots in men’s size nine, and they were much too large for her feet as he remembered them. He was quite shaken by the encounter, and it eventually occurred to him as he squatted there that he should probably disappear before being discovered, so he scooped up the boots, tucked them
“I’m fine,” I said, shaking it out. “Where did you say the bathroom was again?”
“Just down the hall there on your left.” He reached for his cane and started to rise. “I’ll make you some more tea.”
“No thanks,” I said. “The one cup seems to be working as advertised.”
I didn’t think I was away that long, but when I returned from the shitter the old man was gone and there was a glass of water and a plate of sliced apples on the coffee table in front of where I had been sitting. When Mr. Hadley reappeared, he was carrying a plate of apple slices for himself and a glass of milky liquid that I could tell tasted terrible just by how it looked.
“I thought you might like a little snack,” he said, indicating the apples with a nod. He set down his plate and took up his cane to lower himself into his chair again. “I’m supposed to take my medication with food, but an apple’s about all I can stomach any longer before noon. That and MoonPies.”
“Thanks,” I said, biting into an apple slice, then adding quietly, “Just what I need after that Smooth Move tea too, more fiber.”
I said it under my breath but I could tell he heard me because he laughed. I guess those hearing aids worked pretty well. Then he said, “It’s a lovely sound, isn’t it? The crunch of an apple. Have you ever heard a horse eat one?”
“No, I don’t think I have.”
“Well, maybe later we’ll go out and feed one to Rosie.”
“You have horses here?”
“Just Rosie. I’ve managed to place all of the other animals elsewhere, but Rosie’s blind and she’s been rather bad off since her seeing-eye horse passed away. She can’t eat a whole apple at once any longer, on account of her missing teeth, but she still loves them. June spoiled her something terrible and she almost expects one every day. Won’t touch a carrot, but she sure loves apples.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, where will Rosie go?”
I didn’t say it exactly, but by “where will Rosie go?” I meant when the bank foreclosed. He seemed to understand, though, anyway.
“She’ll be gone by then,” he said.
“Yeah, but where?”
“Who can say until they get there,” he mused, with a bit of a twinkle in his old eye.
He pulled his bridge from his mouth and picked a piece of apple peel free that was caught in its wires. Then he smiled at me with no front teeth. “Don’t get old if you can help it, kid. You start losing pieces of yourself. What doesn’t fall out, they want to cut out. Of course, of everything I’ve lost I probably miss my mind the most.” He laughed at his own joke and slapped his knee. Then he reinserted his bridge and picked up his drink. He winced when he sipped it. I knew it tasted bad.
“Are the apples enough for you?” he asked. “I have some microwave dinners.”
I assured him that I was fine, and he leaned back in his chair. Then he smiled again, this time with all his teeth.
“Shall I continue with my story then?”
“Sure, but I do have a question. I’m assuming that was your wife, June—the lady on the roof with the parachute. But I’m curious why she wasn’t wearing any shoes.”
“That’s a good question, Elliot,” he replied. “A good fine question. And I wondered the same thing. Especially after I found her boots . . .”
6
H E FOUND HER boots sitting neatly together on the top step just inside the roof access door, with the socks stuffed inside. Why she had left them there before jumping he could not have guessed at the time. Perhaps they had been part of her disguise, he mused, or perhaps she had planted them as a kind of false clue. They were old worn hiking boots in men’s size nine, and they were much too large for her feet as he remembered them. He was quite shaken by the encounter, and it eventually occurred to him as he squatted there that he should probably disappear before being discovered, so he scooped up the boots, tucked them
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