muttered.
The hand behind the ear. Max inquired, “Pardon?”
“What are you doing?” Harry asked again, more loudly now.
“Past tense, old friend,” Max answered. “What you should say is, what have I
done?”
Harry still didn’t understand. I understood only too well.
Max tossed the empty vial to Harry—who tried to catch it, but massed; it fell into his lap. He picked it up and studied it. There was no label. He looked back at Max in confusion. Then he smelled the opening of the vial, wincing at the odor.
“Bitter almonds,” Max informed him.
Arsenic
, I thought in horror.
“Arsenic,” said Max.
“Oh, my God.” Harry labored to his feet. “You’re
crazy.”
“I believe we’ve already established that,” said Max.
Harry rushed to the desk, his legs appearing somewhat rubbery. He snatched up the telephone receiver.
“A waste of time,” Max told him calmly. I felt ill. “I’ll be dead long before anyone can get here.”
Harry looked at him in agitation. “What the hell do you expect me to do, just stand by and watch you die?” he demanded.
Why not?
My thought was stricken.
It’s all
I
can do. Except that I’ll be sitting by instead
.
“Just stand by,” said Max, “and offer me the courtesy of listening with attention for the last few minutes of my life.”
“Oh, God,” said Harry—and my mind—and stared at Max.
Then he said, impulsively, “I’ll drive you to the hospital in your car!”
“There isn’t time,” Max told him quietly. The calmness of his tone was chilling to my blood. “I have five to seven minutes left at most. Sit down.”
“Jesus, Max!”
“Sit down,”
said Max. His smile was thin. “And, for once in your life,
listen
to me.”
“Jesus,”
Harry mumbled.
There’s nothing I can do to stop this
. There was utter, helpless horror in my mind.
Nothing!
Harry didn’t sit; he couldn’t. (I could do nothing but.) He watched Max with a pained expression as my son began to pace around the room.
“The more I get my circulation going, the less time it will take,” he said.
“Jesus, Max!”
Max raised a silencing hand.
“I never told you about Adelaide, did I?” he asked. “My true love. My only love. My wife. My friend. My treasure.”
Not that
, my mind pleaded. Adelaide had always been an angel to me.
“I was married to her before you came along,” continued Max. “Before Cassandra came along.”
Harry twitched (I may have done the same without sensation) as Max’s right leg seemed to buckle momentarily and he staggered slightly. Harry made a sudden move toward him, then stopped as Max walked on, a look of haunted recollection on his face.
“Those were the best years of my life,” he said. “We loved each other deeply. I was happier than I have ever been.”
I closed my eyes and prayed to weep. I always knew that Max adored her; I could see it in his every word and action, in his face. My son adored her as I’d adored my wife, and both of us had lost those magic, wonderful relationships.
Max started to go on and, for several seconds, his voice grew thick. I saw him struggle to prevent its happening again before he’d finished what he had to say.
“My joy was her beside me,” he continued, pacing once again. “Her love unquestioning. I idolized her, Harry. I’msure you think that such an emotion was never possible for me.
He
knew though,” he added, pointing at me. “He saw it all.”
I did, my son
, I thought, agonized, opening my eyes again.
“She was, to me, everything that was good. Everything that was pure and beautiful and innocent.”
His last word was emphasized involuntarily, accompanied by a wince of pain. Harry went stiff with apprehension.
For several moments, Max stood motionless, eyes hooded, breathing slowly.
“Max, let me call an ambulance, for God’s sake!” Harry cried.
Max waved him off and started pacing once again, his movements uneven now.
“She was carrying our child when the accident
The hand behind the ear. Max inquired, “Pardon?”
“What are you doing?” Harry asked again, more loudly now.
“Past tense, old friend,” Max answered. “What you should say is, what have I
done?”
Harry still didn’t understand. I understood only too well.
Max tossed the empty vial to Harry—who tried to catch it, but massed; it fell into his lap. He picked it up and studied it. There was no label. He looked back at Max in confusion. Then he smelled the opening of the vial, wincing at the odor.
“Bitter almonds,” Max informed him.
Arsenic
, I thought in horror.
“Arsenic,” said Max.
“Oh, my God.” Harry labored to his feet. “You’re
crazy.”
“I believe we’ve already established that,” said Max.
Harry rushed to the desk, his legs appearing somewhat rubbery. He snatched up the telephone receiver.
“A waste of time,” Max told him calmly. I felt ill. “I’ll be dead long before anyone can get here.”
Harry looked at him in agitation. “What the hell do you expect me to do, just stand by and watch you die?” he demanded.
Why not?
My thought was stricken.
It’s all
I
can do. Except that I’ll be sitting by instead
.
“Just stand by,” said Max, “and offer me the courtesy of listening with attention for the last few minutes of my life.”
“Oh, God,” said Harry—and my mind—and stared at Max.
Then he said, impulsively, “I’ll drive you to the hospital in your car!”
“There isn’t time,” Max told him quietly. The calmness of his tone was chilling to my blood. “I have five to seven minutes left at most. Sit down.”
“Jesus, Max!”
“Sit down,”
said Max. His smile was thin. “And, for once in your life,
listen
to me.”
“Jesus,”
Harry mumbled.
There’s nothing I can do to stop this
. There was utter, helpless horror in my mind.
Nothing!
Harry didn’t sit; he couldn’t. (I could do nothing but.) He watched Max with a pained expression as my son began to pace around the room.
“The more I get my circulation going, the less time it will take,” he said.
“Jesus, Max!”
Max raised a silencing hand.
“I never told you about Adelaide, did I?” he asked. “My true love. My only love. My wife. My friend. My treasure.”
Not that
, my mind pleaded. Adelaide had always been an angel to me.
“I was married to her before you came along,” continued Max. “Before Cassandra came along.”
Harry twitched (I may have done the same without sensation) as Max’s right leg seemed to buckle momentarily and he staggered slightly. Harry made a sudden move toward him, then stopped as Max walked on, a look of haunted recollection on his face.
“Those were the best years of my life,” he said. “We loved each other deeply. I was happier than I have ever been.”
I closed my eyes and prayed to weep. I always knew that Max adored her; I could see it in his every word and action, in his face. My son adored her as I’d adored my wife, and both of us had lost those magic, wonderful relationships.
Max started to go on and, for several seconds, his voice grew thick. I saw him struggle to prevent its happening again before he’d finished what he had to say.
“My joy was her beside me,” he continued, pacing once again. “Her love unquestioning. I idolized her, Harry. I’msure you think that such an emotion was never possible for me.
He
knew though,” he added, pointing at me. “He saw it all.”
I did, my son
, I thought, agonized, opening my eyes again.
“She was, to me, everything that was good. Everything that was pure and beautiful and innocent.”
His last word was emphasized involuntarily, accompanied by a wince of pain. Harry went stiff with apprehension.
For several moments, Max stood motionless, eyes hooded, breathing slowly.
“Max, let me call an ambulance, for God’s sake!” Harry cried.
Max waved him off and started pacing once again, his movements uneven now.
“She was carrying our child when the accident
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