Read Online The Animal Hour by Andrew Klavan - Free Book Online

Nana’s bedroom was down there and, across from it, a back door that led to the freight elevator and the fire stairs. Staring down the hall, he was thinking about seeing Zach on Friday. Zach in his skull mask. And Tiffany. Goddamned Tiffany , he was thinking. Goddamned Tiffany.
    â€œAnd he’s seeing his doctor, his psychiatrist,” Nana said over her shoulder.
    â€œWell, I didn’t ask him but I guess so. He looked happy, Nana. He looked fine.”
    â€œWell, as long as he’s not taking those … horrible, horrible drugs …”
    He had wandered back along the sofa now to where he could see her from the side. He saw her shudder, her hands clasping each other. He saw her shake her head at those nasty old drugs, her lips pressed together tight. He smiled sadly with one corner of his mouth. Sometimes, some moments like that, she was just his mother to the life. The same birdlike tremolos. The same ardent, wide-eyed worries; her sacred fears. That wringing movement of the hands—he could remember his mom doing that. Oh, don’t let Zachary get too cold, Ollie. He wanted to throw his body around the old woman, to fend off the hovering archangel.
    She had the same heart as his mother too. The same problem: That’s where Mom got it from. Normally, it can be kept fairly stable, the doctor had told him. But it’s unpredictable. The valve can close suddenly and … Perkins had to shut his eyes a moment to fight off that last image of his mother. The way he’d found her: stretched out on her side between the sofa and the coffee table. Her short hair spilled over her cheek. Her thin arm flung out over her head. The saucer upside down on the rug and the cup on its side and the small spurt-stain of tea on the white shag. A weak valve. The same damn thing.
    â€œReally, Nana,” he heard himself say. “Do me a favor: don’t get all upset over nothing.”
    â€œWell, but, Ollie, that’s what I always do.”
    â€œWell, but, Nana, it isn’t good for you. Jesus.”
    She tried to draw herself up, but sagged again almost at once under her anxieties. “Well, why did Tiffany say the mews? She said you had to go to the mews.”
    â€œOh … Tiffany.”
    â€œWell, she’s worried about him, poor thing.”
    â€œWell, she should’ve waited. She shouldn’t’ve called you. I’d’ve plugged my phone in eventually.” He muttered this. He knew Nana liked Tiffany. The closest thing she had to a granddaughter-in-law. Still. “She should’ve kept trying,” he muttered again.
    â€œBut she was very specific,” Nana insisted. “She said you had to go to the mews. She said she was sure he must be there.”
    â€œI know, I know.”
    â€œAnd that’s where he always went to take the drugs. So why would she say that, Ollie?”
    â€œForget it, Nana, really.” God damn Tiffany , he thought. “He’s not on the drugs. I just saw him.”
    â€œI wish someone would buy that place,” she said, meaning the mews. She pressed her hands down on the blanket. The yellow strands of her hair trembled at her ears.
    He walked over to her. He crouched down by her chair. She turned her head to him. Her thin, shriveled face. The loose flesh on it quivering. The water in her eyes threatening to overflow.
    â€œI’m serious now,” he said to her. “You keep this up, I’m gonna have to start breaking some old lady bones. You’ve gotta calm down.”
    â€œHe thinks too much,” Nana said. “That’s his problem. Your mother was just like that. He thinks and he worries about nothing at all. All those strange books he reads. And all that talk about … about God and salvation and I don’t know what else.” She reached out weakly, patted his hand where it held to the arm of her chair. “That’s why you were always such a comfort to me, Ollie. You