The Trouble With Eden - Lawrence Block [31]
“I really think you ought to tone down the camping, Warren. And I really think I ought to go home myself.”
“To Gretchen.”
“Yes, to Gretchen.”
“What an odd medium you selected as salvation from the quagmire of faggotry. She’s just a mother substitute, Peterkin.”
“Leave it alone.”
“Although I have to admit her maternal impulses are sometimes hard to detect.”
“God damn it—”
“I’m sorry. I am sorry. I enjoy baiting people but when I drink too much I carry it too far. It’s primarily self-destructive because now I’ll have to sit around hating myself. You’ll forgive Aunt Warren, won’t you?”
“Of course. You found a sore spot, that’s all.”
“It’s a habit of mine. One of the more regrettable ones. You’re going now? How was the orange juice?”
“Better than the screwdriver.”
“Extraordinary. Well, I think I’ll have one more before I toddle off. I’ll see you tomorrow. And remember what I told you about Tony. Don’t sell yourself any shorter than you absolutely have to.”
“I’ll remember.”
The apartment was dark when he returned to it. He let himself in and checked Robin. She was curled on her side, her thumb in her mouth. She sucked her thumb only when she slept.
He went to the big double bed. He undressed quietly in the darkness, went to the bathroom and urinated. When he was on his way back to the bed she said, “You can flush it. I’m not asleep.”
He flushed the toilet. “I thought you were out. I was hoping you’d be able to sleep.”
“I can’t just yet, but I’m getting a little drowsy, baby. My head is still making circles but they’re slowing down a little. I took a trank.”
“I hope it wasn’t a Librium.”
“No, it was Valium. Librium would have been a bad idea.”
“A very bad idea. I didn’t know we had any Vals, or I would have gotten one into you before.”
“I took the last one. I almost took a sleeping pill but I didn’t. Are you proud of me? I’m proud of me.”
“I’m proud of you. Who was going to give you the sleeping pill?”
“I still have a couple of reds.”
“Christ.”
“I had them hidden. Isn’t that disgusting? Only a couple, Petey. Not enough to kill yourself if you wanted to, and I would never do that anyway. I don’t think I would.”
“It’s such a bad drug. People kill themselves by accident. They have one and they get groggy and forget they took it so they take another, and they empty the whole bottle that way and never wake up.”
“I’ll throw them out tomorrow. I swear I will. I’ll give them to you and you can throw them out. You’re right. They’re scary. To kill yourself by accident. Isnn’t that what happened to Marilyn Monroe? I’ll give them to you and you can—did I say something wrong, baby?”
“Just a mental connection. Nothing.”
“Oh, I didn’t ask you about the show.”
“It was fine. I think I’ll have a jay before I go to sleep, but I don’t think you should have one.”
“No, I don’t want to smoke.”
“I’ll just have enough to get a little buzz. I don’t want to be very high.” He got the plastic vial and a pack of cigarette papers and rolled a skinny cigarette. He smoked half of it, then pinched it out and emptied the stub back into the vial. “That’s enough,” he said. “Just to soften the edges.”
“Come to bed, Petey.”
He lay down beside her and she turned to him. “I’m going to come out of it this time, Petey. I can feel the wires loosening. I’ll be better.”
“I know you will.”
“I wish I knew it. All I can do is think it and not be sure. You’ll help me.”
“Sure.”
“I can’t stay a hundred percent clean, but I can at least balance myself. Don’t leave me, Petey.”
“I won’t.”
“Hold me, Petey. Just hold me. Make us be warm. It’s so cold out there, and there are men with long sharp knives. Hold me.”
Linda was just drifting off to sleep when there was a knock at the door. Her mind was beginning to shift from thought to dream, and for an instant she tried to fit the knocking sound into the dream pattern. Then it registered—a knock on the door—and she sat bolt upright, her heart pounding.
Was it Marc?
But Marc wouldn’t knock. And Marc would not come back. Marc, once gone, would