Read Online The Last Whisper in the Dark: A Novel by Tom Piccirilli - Free Book Online
Authors: Tom Piccirilli
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I wanted to go to bed with you?”
“Maybe that was it. I think that was it, Darla.”
She stretched out across the mattress and her robe slid open at the knee exposing her leg and thigh. I’d just been in the shower with her naked but somehow the curve of her knee did something to me now and my pulse started going haywire. My side throbbed like hell but only distantly, like a drum beating on some faraway ridge.
With one quick motion she drew the towel off her head and tossed it away. She shook out her hair and stared provocatively at me through the disheveled clumps.
It reminded me of that night at the Elbow Room. She sat there just out of arm’s reach, the same way as she had at the bar, drawing all attention. The smoky amused eyes were full of expectation. She’d saved me. I knew I’d have to pay her back. She wasn’t a woman who did things for free or for righteous reasons. She was as bad as me in her own way, and I wondered how much she was going to hurt me in the end.
Darla held her hand out to me. I took it and she drew me forward. I dropped on the mattress beside her and caught a glimpse of the clock on the nightstand. It was noon. I was still very aware that Gramp needed his meds by dinnertime. My father too, probably. My heart sank thinking of my old man losing himself in our house, unable to remember my voice or my mother’s face. I imagined JFK lurching out from beneath the kitchen table, and my old man talking gibberish to him.
Hi doggie
.Perhaps as much as a quarter millionre couple of
Darla said, “Stay with me. Concentrate.”
“I’m trying.”
“Try harder.”
We kissed and my torn lips hurt but not much, and the kiss turned into something more, and she moaned beneath me. I nuzzled the area beneath her ear because it’s the spot that Kimmy liked me to nestle in. Darla shirked out of her robe and said, “Terrier.” Her heavy breasts swayed as she turned over, urging me, and I moved to her and Kimmy’s name was loud in my head, thinking of her.
Terrier, I’m pregnant
.
Darla and I made a fast, angry love, full of loss and necessity, and with a cruel understanding that we weren’t helping each other much, but just enough for now. It was the sort of brutal sex that hurt, and not necessarily in a good way. We were both driven to prove something to ourselves and each other, and in the end all we demonstrated was how selfish and forsaken we were. I wondered if she could actually be a new love. I wondered if she would, somehow, manage to slip the blade between my ribs and at last destroy me.
I lay there panting with her arm thrown over my belly, her face against my throat. She was smiling. I wasn’t. The pain was pushing through. She said, “That was nice.” It wasn’t. I told her, “Thank you, I needed that.” I did. I knew that when my Alzheimer’s hit this interlude would be one of the first memories to go.
Darla put her robe back on, left for a few minutes, and returned with tea, some finger foods, and another Percocet. I ate and slurped down the tea without tasting any of it. I popped the pill. She sat beside me, leaving a few inches between us that felt as deep and wide as the valleys of the moon.
“I don’t want you to think I was taking advantage of you,” she said.
Strange, but there it was. “You didn’t. You were very giving. Thank you for helping me.”
She nodded at that. “So you want to be with me. You’re not just here because you misdialed.”
“No.”
“Was it because you simply needed somebody? Anybody?”
It was an honest question, and I didn’t have an honest answer. Apologizing wouldn’t help. Fucking her again wouldn’t help. I didn’t know why I’d phoned her. Calling my father would have made more sense. Or Wes.
“I was battered,” I said.
“Yes, you were.”
The pill started to take effect. My head got lighter. I started to drift. I held my hand out to her and she took it. “I’m sorry if you feel like I used you.”
“I
“Maybe that was it. I think that was it, Darla.”
She stretched out across the mattress and her robe slid open at the knee exposing her leg and thigh. I’d just been in the shower with her naked but somehow the curve of her knee did something to me now and my pulse started going haywire. My side throbbed like hell but only distantly, like a drum beating on some faraway ridge.
With one quick motion she drew the towel off her head and tossed it away. She shook out her hair and stared provocatively at me through the disheveled clumps.
It reminded me of that night at the Elbow Room. She sat there just out of arm’s reach, the same way as she had at the bar, drawing all attention. The smoky amused eyes were full of expectation. She’d saved me. I knew I’d have to pay her back. She wasn’t a woman who did things for free or for righteous reasons. She was as bad as me in her own way, and I wondered how much she was going to hurt me in the end.
Darla held her hand out to me. I took it and she drew me forward. I dropped on the mattress beside her and caught a glimpse of the clock on the nightstand. It was noon. I was still very aware that Gramp needed his meds by dinnertime. My father too, probably. My heart sank thinking of my old man losing himself in our house, unable to remember my voice or my mother’s face. I imagined JFK lurching out from beneath the kitchen table, and my old man talking gibberish to him.
Hi doggie
.Perhaps as much as a quarter millionre couple of
Darla said, “Stay with me. Concentrate.”
“I’m trying.”
“Try harder.”
We kissed and my torn lips hurt but not much, and the kiss turned into something more, and she moaned beneath me. I nuzzled the area beneath her ear because it’s the spot that Kimmy liked me to nestle in. Darla shirked out of her robe and said, “Terrier.” Her heavy breasts swayed as she turned over, urging me, and I moved to her and Kimmy’s name was loud in my head, thinking of her.
Terrier, I’m pregnant
.
Darla and I made a fast, angry love, full of loss and necessity, and with a cruel understanding that we weren’t helping each other much, but just enough for now. It was the sort of brutal sex that hurt, and not necessarily in a good way. We were both driven to prove something to ourselves and each other, and in the end all we demonstrated was how selfish and forsaken we were. I wondered if she could actually be a new love. I wondered if she would, somehow, manage to slip the blade between my ribs and at last destroy me.
I lay there panting with her arm thrown over my belly, her face against my throat. She was smiling. I wasn’t. The pain was pushing through. She said, “That was nice.” It wasn’t. I told her, “Thank you, I needed that.” I did. I knew that when my Alzheimer’s hit this interlude would be one of the first memories to go.
Darla put her robe back on, left for a few minutes, and returned with tea, some finger foods, and another Percocet. I ate and slurped down the tea without tasting any of it. I popped the pill. She sat beside me, leaving a few inches between us that felt as deep and wide as the valleys of the moon.
“I don’t want you to think I was taking advantage of you,” she said.
Strange, but there it was. “You didn’t. You were very giving. Thank you for helping me.”
She nodded at that. “So you want to be with me. You’re not just here because you misdialed.”
“No.”
“Was it because you simply needed somebody? Anybody?”
It was an honest question, and I didn’t have an honest answer. Apologizing wouldn’t help. Fucking her again wouldn’t help. I didn’t know why I’d phoned her. Calling my father would have made more sense. Or Wes.
“I was battered,” I said.
“Yes, you were.”
The pill started to take effect. My head got lighter. I started to drift. I held my hand out to her and she took it. “I’m sorry if you feel like I used you.”
“I
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