Page 92 - Where the Dream Ends ebook

Marc Erdrich

he wanted to do now that Edith was gone. Whenever he had
tried to fix it before, she complained he was letting the mos-
quitoes in.

The silence that was left with the closing of the door was
momentarily startling, and Liam stood for a moment surveying
the antiquated kitchen and the tiny living room like someone
seeing it for the first time. He hadn’t actually planned what he
would do once Edith was gone, and now that she really was
gone, he wasn’t quite sure how to begin. It was six o’ clock —
Edith had taken the five-forty ferry — so he decided to make
himself an early dinner. Ordinarily, they ate at seven, but he
was eager to alter the daily ritual.

The refrigerator was almost empty. He had insisted that
he did not want Edith to go shopping for him. He could go
out to eat. There was a restaurant open in the next village.
He could walk. It was only two miles. No, not tonight. There
would be plenty opportunity to eat out. Better to eat at home
the first night.
He made a fried egg sandwich, the way he liked: cooked
in butter, with bacon, cheese, tomato, and mayonnaise. Better
than McDonald’s. He ate on the deck, drinking a beer right
out of the bottle. Edith hated when he did that. She called it
low class. He watched the sun settle down behind the tallest
houses, and watched some more as the earth tipped toward
darkness.

* * *

He missed Edith’s first call — the phone was ringing as he
turned into the walk. No need to run, he thought. She’ll call

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