Read Online The Long Wait for Tomorrow by Joaquin Dorfman - Free Book Online
Authors: Joaquin Dorfman
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packing his green satchel.
Patrick kept his voice down. “I just wanted to talk to you about what Kelly asked.”
“ Uh-huh. I’m listening.”
“It was … I just wanted to let you know that he was serious about that.”
“I know.”
“You do?”
“Gave him a serious answer, didn’t I?” Bill paused to glance down at Patrick. He went back to packing his things, talking all the while. “Ever have one of those moments where someone asks you how old you are and for some damn reason or another, you have to actually think about it?”
“Can I ask you a favor, Bill?” Patrick found himself unconsciously pressing his palms together just below his chin. “Just this once?”
Bill slung his bag over his shoulder. “Of course, Patrick.”
“Could you just …” Patrick struggled, words adrift. “Let it be known, to the other teachers, I mean … Let them know that Kelly’s acting not himself, that he’s acting weird? He woke up all strange this morning, and I just thought … If you could? So he doesn’t get himself into any trouble.”
Bill thought about it.
Patrick had expected such a reaction, though what came next was pure left field.
“You’re a good friend, Patrick.”
Before Patrick could summon the words, Bill went rightahead. “Yeah, Kelly does seem to be a bit touched today. I’ll put in a good word for him around the staff room. Wouldn’t worry about him getting into too much trouble. Heard Ohio State finally won him over, so short of killing a man, doesn’t look like this place is going to make much of a difference anymore.”
Bill smiled, lips pressed together.
That’s what regret sounds like
, Patrick’s angels whispered.
“You hear anything from OSU?” Bill asked.
“No … nothing yet.”
Bill gave Patrick a smack on the shoulder. “Keep an eye on Kelly, best you can.”
End of conversation, Bill’s tan hiking boots were already taking him out the door.
Patrick caught his saxophone case staring at him from the table. He went over, picked it up, and shouldered his book bag. He stepped out the door, ready to guide Kelly in whatever way he could, and stopped short.
Kelly was gone.
Wandered away like a lost lamb.
Patrick glanced around in a slipstream of students. Bill’s palm imprinted on his shoulder and final words floating in his head like alphabet soup.
Keep an eye on Kelly, best you can.
t didn’t start until after second period.
First period, Patrick had sat through an excruciating review session for his final in Medieval History. Not one of his strong suits, and time wasn’t on his side that day. A watched kettle never boils. Same thing went for toasters and clocks. The seconds ticked off at the rate of one per minute, and Patrick’s mind wandered further and further from his notes. Wondering if boiling a pot of water,
while
toasting bread and watching a clock, might actually make time go backward.
You’re starting to sound like Kelly McDermott
, his angels had admonished, slipping him notes beneath the teacher’s steady drone.
The
new
Kelly McDermott.
The New Kelly McDermott.
That was the term he had settled on.
Now trapped by the confines of everyday responsibilities, Patrick began what he could only describe as detoxification. No longer distracted by Kelly’s bizarre behavior, he found he could no longer stop thinking about it. As time went by, he actually found himself sweating. His foot bounced nervously beneath his desk. Pen caps were chewed, notes became doodles, which soon enough became musical notation. He felt as though hewas waiting for an inevitable explosion, eruption, some violent event just beyond his capacity to control.
Now that Patrick’s angels had dubbed his friend the New Kelly McDermott, it was impossible to think of him as anything but. There was a new sheriff in town, but apart from that paranoid certainty, Patrick had little else to hold on to.
He was the first one out the door when class was dismissed. Ran fast as he
Patrick kept his voice down. “I just wanted to talk to you about what Kelly asked.”
“ Uh-huh. I’m listening.”
“It was … I just wanted to let you know that he was serious about that.”
“I know.”
“You do?”
“Gave him a serious answer, didn’t I?” Bill paused to glance down at Patrick. He went back to packing his things, talking all the while. “Ever have one of those moments where someone asks you how old you are and for some damn reason or another, you have to actually think about it?”
“Can I ask you a favor, Bill?” Patrick found himself unconsciously pressing his palms together just below his chin. “Just this once?”
Bill slung his bag over his shoulder. “Of course, Patrick.”
“Could you just …” Patrick struggled, words adrift. “Let it be known, to the other teachers, I mean … Let them know that Kelly’s acting not himself, that he’s acting weird? He woke up all strange this morning, and I just thought … If you could? So he doesn’t get himself into any trouble.”
Bill thought about it.
Patrick had expected such a reaction, though what came next was pure left field.
“You’re a good friend, Patrick.”
Before Patrick could summon the words, Bill went rightahead. “Yeah, Kelly does seem to be a bit touched today. I’ll put in a good word for him around the staff room. Wouldn’t worry about him getting into too much trouble. Heard Ohio State finally won him over, so short of killing a man, doesn’t look like this place is going to make much of a difference anymore.”
Bill smiled, lips pressed together.
That’s what regret sounds like
, Patrick’s angels whispered.
“You hear anything from OSU?” Bill asked.
“No … nothing yet.”
Bill gave Patrick a smack on the shoulder. “Keep an eye on Kelly, best you can.”
End of conversation, Bill’s tan hiking boots were already taking him out the door.
Patrick caught his saxophone case staring at him from the table. He went over, picked it up, and shouldered his book bag. He stepped out the door, ready to guide Kelly in whatever way he could, and stopped short.
Kelly was gone.
Wandered away like a lost lamb.
Patrick glanced around in a slipstream of students. Bill’s palm imprinted on his shoulder and final words floating in his head like alphabet soup.
Keep an eye on Kelly, best you can.
t didn’t start until after second period.
First period, Patrick had sat through an excruciating review session for his final in Medieval History. Not one of his strong suits, and time wasn’t on his side that day. A watched kettle never boils. Same thing went for toasters and clocks. The seconds ticked off at the rate of one per minute, and Patrick’s mind wandered further and further from his notes. Wondering if boiling a pot of water,
while
toasting bread and watching a clock, might actually make time go backward.
You’re starting to sound like Kelly McDermott
, his angels had admonished, slipping him notes beneath the teacher’s steady drone.
The
new
Kelly McDermott.
The New Kelly McDermott.
That was the term he had settled on.
Now trapped by the confines of everyday responsibilities, Patrick began what he could only describe as detoxification. No longer distracted by Kelly’s bizarre behavior, he found he could no longer stop thinking about it. As time went by, he actually found himself sweating. His foot bounced nervously beneath his desk. Pen caps were chewed, notes became doodles, which soon enough became musical notation. He felt as though hewas waiting for an inevitable explosion, eruption, some violent event just beyond his capacity to control.
Now that Patrick’s angels had dubbed his friend the New Kelly McDermott, it was impossible to think of him as anything but. There was a new sheriff in town, but apart from that paranoid certainty, Patrick had little else to hold on to.
He was the first one out the door when class was dismissed. Ran fast as he
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