Read Online The Stranger Beside You by William Casey Moreton - Free Book Online
Authors: William Casey Moreton
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the ground. Pedestrians and joggers streamed around us.
“I don’t understand,” Karly said. “Please tell me why you are so upset.”
I couldn’t form a thought because my brain had sort of short-circuited and my body was functioning on autopilot because I was no longer in control.
Karly glanced up at Clive. “Are you the one from the phone? The Lawyer?”
He nodded.
“What did you tell her?” she demanded.
His voice was flat when he said, “I told her that her husband died this morning.”
13
This wasn’t how I had pictured the worst day of my life, not even close. I remember watching Four Weddings and a Funeral , that great Hugh Grant film from the 1990’s. At the funeral in the movie someone reads a poem about loss, something about “stop all the clocks” and “silence the bells” or whatever. It’s a real poem and it is devastating but I understand it now. Here is my version: I want the world to stop. I want this big machine we live in to shut down. I want everyone to stop where they are and offer a day of reverence, a day of stillness, to show respect for the passing of the most important person who will ever be a part of my life. There should be rain, and dark, dark clouds. The wind should blow with a chill. All laughter should cease. I want the flowers to wilt, the grass to turn brown and the leaves to lose their color and fall to the ground. The traffic should stop and all conversation should hush so that there is only silence. If I had my way, the sun would hide itself, for there is no room for its splendor or brilliance or warmth in the midst of my pain. Until further notice, it is banished from the sky.
In reality, this was a gorgeous day. The sun was high and bright. People rushed around, busy, stressed, happy, cheerful, depressed. Birds sang from treetops, and the breeze carried on it the sweet aromas of the park.
They helped me to a park bench and Karly twisted the cap off of a bottle of water and insisted that I take a drink. My vision was still blurred and my head was spinning.
“I don’t understand, I…don’t…understand,” I repeated like a mantra.
“Just sit down,” Clive told me.
He stood facing me. Karly was seated at my side.
“Tell me what happened,” I demanded.
“I will. I promise.”
Clive stared past me, his gaze drifting off in the general direction of Trump Tower.
My chest tightened as I sipped the water and held it in my mouth. My husband was gone. I could feel myself slipping. I flashed on that moment at midnight and waking to the sound of the door and looking at the back of Tom’s head, the side of his face mashed against his pillow. I could see him at the bottom of the stairs, glancing back at me, telling me to relax. And then I watched him disappear inside the back door of the black SUV parked in the driveway, a wink of streetlight coming off the silver handcuffs.
A breeze rustled my hair.
Karly handed me a tissue, and I held it loosely in both my hands for a long, numb moment.
“I need to talk to Clive alone,” I said.
“Sure,” Karly nodded.
“Let’s take a walk,” I told him.
“Take your time,” Karly said. “I’ll be here.”
Clive and I lit off down a footpath, shoulder to shoulder.
“I want answers.”
“It happened early this morning,” Clive began. “Tom tried to escape.”
“That’s a lie.”
“I don’t think so.”
“They shot him?”
“No.”
“How did he die?”
“Understand, Brynn, everything I’m telling you came straight from the mouth of Special Agent Chapman. He woke me up with the call. I met with him first thing this morning.” Clive paused a moment, uncomfortable with having to give voice to such raw words. “He showed me the body.”
The words stung me. The sun seemed so bright, making my head throb.
The body . Tom had been reduced to an inanimate object. I slowed to a stop. I stared
“I don’t understand,” Karly said. “Please tell me why you are so upset.”
I couldn’t form a thought because my brain had sort of short-circuited and my body was functioning on autopilot because I was no longer in control.
Karly glanced up at Clive. “Are you the one from the phone? The Lawyer?”
He nodded.
“What did you tell her?” she demanded.
His voice was flat when he said, “I told her that her husband died this morning.”
13
This wasn’t how I had pictured the worst day of my life, not even close. I remember watching Four Weddings and a Funeral , that great Hugh Grant film from the 1990’s. At the funeral in the movie someone reads a poem about loss, something about “stop all the clocks” and “silence the bells” or whatever. It’s a real poem and it is devastating but I understand it now. Here is my version: I want the world to stop. I want this big machine we live in to shut down. I want everyone to stop where they are and offer a day of reverence, a day of stillness, to show respect for the passing of the most important person who will ever be a part of my life. There should be rain, and dark, dark clouds. The wind should blow with a chill. All laughter should cease. I want the flowers to wilt, the grass to turn brown and the leaves to lose their color and fall to the ground. The traffic should stop and all conversation should hush so that there is only silence. If I had my way, the sun would hide itself, for there is no room for its splendor or brilliance or warmth in the midst of my pain. Until further notice, it is banished from the sky.
In reality, this was a gorgeous day. The sun was high and bright. People rushed around, busy, stressed, happy, cheerful, depressed. Birds sang from treetops, and the breeze carried on it the sweet aromas of the park.
They helped me to a park bench and Karly twisted the cap off of a bottle of water and insisted that I take a drink. My vision was still blurred and my head was spinning.
“I don’t understand, I…don’t…understand,” I repeated like a mantra.
“Just sit down,” Clive told me.
He stood facing me. Karly was seated at my side.
“Tell me what happened,” I demanded.
“I will. I promise.”
Clive stared past me, his gaze drifting off in the general direction of Trump Tower.
My chest tightened as I sipped the water and held it in my mouth. My husband was gone. I could feel myself slipping. I flashed on that moment at midnight and waking to the sound of the door and looking at the back of Tom’s head, the side of his face mashed against his pillow. I could see him at the bottom of the stairs, glancing back at me, telling me to relax. And then I watched him disappear inside the back door of the black SUV parked in the driveway, a wink of streetlight coming off the silver handcuffs.
A breeze rustled my hair.
Karly handed me a tissue, and I held it loosely in both my hands for a long, numb moment.
“I need to talk to Clive alone,” I said.
“Sure,” Karly nodded.
“Let’s take a walk,” I told him.
“Take your time,” Karly said. “I’ll be here.”
Clive and I lit off down a footpath, shoulder to shoulder.
“I want answers.”
“It happened early this morning,” Clive began. “Tom tried to escape.”
“That’s a lie.”
“I don’t think so.”
“They shot him?”
“No.”
“How did he die?”
“Understand, Brynn, everything I’m telling you came straight from the mouth of Special Agent Chapman. He woke me up with the call. I met with him first thing this morning.” Clive paused a moment, uncomfortable with having to give voice to such raw words. “He showed me the body.”
The words stung me. The sun seemed so bright, making my head throb.
The body . Tom had been reduced to an inanimate object. I slowed to a stop. I stared
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